A/N - I'm really touched by the reviews I've been getting, one in particular I'm going to address right at the very end when I finally get there because I would only give too much away of the story otherwise with what I want to say. I won't forget. I would take the support I've been lucky enough to get already from a small select group of wonderful people over thousands of mass reviews for sure. :)
This is most likely going to be the last chapter with little Brittana since I plan to age up to thirteen in the next update. I know writing about them as children is probably not many people's 'thing', and that's cool, it's just this is a story about a journey and if I started too late I didn't think people would get the full picture.
Also, I felt like I had an advantage with these older memories because 'Santana' really discussed them with me to help me, telling me in detail her side and how she felt and often also how it related to what was usually the current issue at hand that had sparked the conversation in the first place. She'd start by saying something like: "You remember that day 'Quinn' hurt you and I felt worried, well that's how I feel right now." When I get past our teen years, it's going to be so much harder writing from her perspective because stuff beyond that hasn't been so well discussed at all.
Another reviewer mentioned they've seen Parenthood which features a young boy with Asperger's. I've seen that too and I think the character is done well, but it's also true that there are many many gender differences. For one example, girls tend to choose "people" interests like Britney Spears to memorize every detail of, rather than "thing" interests like trains like boys usually do. Of the two, Britney has the better potential to help a kid figure out how to be normal in social situations because imitating and/or raving about Britney (especially if she's currently a hit on the charts) might even be seen as cool for a while. Another thing when it comes to making friends is that girls are more likely to gain BIG BAD Santana-type protectors than boys are. Boys don't really protect other boys as much. Of course my 'Santana' was the best big bad protector of them all. I don't even care if I'm biased. I don't care that I never got special help from a "real" professional either when I was little (other than 'Josie' who you'll meet in this chapter). It doesn't matter because I know 'Santana' taught me more than they ever could have.
Thanks so much for reading :)
Chapter 4 – The Brave And The Vulnerable
Brittany S. Pierce, Present
Emotions are strange things to me. It's not at all as if I don't feel them, it's just I can't always perceive them for what they are.
They always come on strongly, but not clearly. It doesn't matter which one, they all feel like my head has been locked in one of those torture boxes which crush you from all sides. A lot of the time I can't identify one from another and tell them apart. Most of the time I can figure out if it is a positive or negative type of emotion, but that's the best I can do.
I've heard most kids can figure out exactly how they feel before they can walk properly.
Emotions are too big for me. They make me short circuit out and my mind goes blank so I can't think. Usually in those times I blurt out something stupid about Lord Tubbington. That's my cat.
When I feel really emotional my thoughts practically become a black hole and I'll blurt out anything I can actually manage to think about, just to have something to say. I guess that's why I talk about cats so much.
When people ask me what emotion I'm feeling, they seem to expect either one of two responses. Some people expect me so say one of those boring stock answers everyone says like, "not too bad thanks, yourself?"
Other people like are actually interested, and they seem to want a really specific smart answer like, "I feel one part guilty, two parts scared and two parts sad" and then they wants reasons to go with all of those feelings.
I can never figure out which type of answer different people want.
This one time, I was out shopping for new spy gear stuff for Santana. By the way, once she hit puberty she would never admit to still enjoying our under cover missions, and she always made a big fuss about reminding me how nice she was to still play that game with me.
But just between us, she was totally even more into us having walkie-talkies and night goggles and setting Lord T up to stand guard for our tradition of stealthily stealing cookies at night, than even I was.
Anyway, as I was browsing for this really awesome pen that could be both a telescope and a laser shooter, the saleslady asked me that awful question of 'how I was.'
She seemed like a nice lady, and I liked her, and I kind of wanted a discount so I gave her my very best "specific" answer and tried to tell her my mood in sixteen parts even if I wasn't sure if what I was saying was exactly right. I got to "one part hopeful" about said potential discount, before she snapped at me and walked off.
Since then, I've found a way to stick it to 'em. These days I just say I feel 'grande' which in Spanish just means 'big,' because at least that answer is always true. I guess Santana and I both find it easiest to express ourselves in Spanish.
Santana's an emotional girl too. But unlike me she always knows exactly what she's feeling. Sometimes, I think she envies me, she's always been smart with her feelings in a way that once she knows what emotion it is, it actually means something to her. That makes things really different, because for her there are consequences. Feeling lonely to her means that nobody wants her. Feeling lonely to me means just that I'm lonely, I can't take it that step further. In spite of my eternal confusion, I guess that's easier.
She had it hard when she was young. Her Abuela was the only one who was really there for her, but that lady has about as much maternal instinct as wolf spider. Really, it's lucky that she didn't have Santana for brunch one day. Her mom was there too, but she wasn't there at the same time, if you know what I mean. She was always working and spent most of her time with whichever boyfriend she was with of the moment. I guess Santana feels things more deeply now, because she started feeling emotions that were too big for her when she was too young to really handle them.
Santana's dad only really started taking her for one weekend a month when her parent's divorce was finalized when she turned five. That was when he remembered, I mean.
Before that it was no regular thing, he could be gone for months and Santana just had to wait and wait for him to come back. All that rejection in a person so young changes you. It gives you the idea that you're unwanted, and that you're unworthy of love.
I don't blame her for thinking like that, because I can personally remember so many times that her Mom and her Abuela yelled at her pretty much just for being Santana, and told her she was just like her father, and I know it happened even more when I wasn't around.
When she was little she seemed so ashamed of herself all the time. She seemed to think that the reason her family didn't want her around much, was because she was like some kind of defective model.
I think after a while she became convinced that she really was a bad person. So, she became defensive and started acting like one.
She began to lash out at anyone she could.
I guess after such a long time of feeling rejected and weak, being seen as a cold-hearted bitch was better.
And when her defenses came up, she started closing her feelings off to where nobody could get at them, least of all herself.
The exception was when she was with me.
It took me a long time to understand that the way Santana was with other people was more a defense, than who she really was.
I guess she felt safe enough to be herself around me, because she knew that I didn't have it in me to judge her.
I struggled, wondering for years which Santana was real, and I should have known all along, that of the course the real one was the one that was mine.
Brittany S. Pierce, 10 years old.
In spite of the fact that Santana begged and pleaded with Susan that she could take care of Brittany, Susan still got Brittany an aide that was supposed to come over most afternoons and see how she was doing.
Brittany kind of liked Josie, but she hated the fact that she was singled out for special treatment, and she swore it was for no reason.
Santana detested Josie with every fiber of her being. She thought that it was totally obvious that she was a condescending butt-head, even if Brittany didn't think so. She was more than a little on the overweight side, which provoked a steady stream of Santana's gleeful insults.
Santana also liked to walk around holding her nose when Josie was near, and Josie had fallen into paranoia about this, always using breath mints and showering more often, even though Santana had never revealed the exact location of the frequently-alluded-to smell.
But in Santana's mind, the worst thing of all was that Josie thought she could take away her job. Helping Brittany was Santana's thing.
Understandably, Josie was always shooing Santana out of the room, but that hardly deterred her. Santana hated to leave Brittany alone with her, and felt a red hot anger every time Josie told Brittany that she was too helpless to do certain things. Santana doubted she had a license of any kind. The Pierces weren't rich so she knew that Susan probably would have had to look for someone less qualified as a compromise.
Santana made it her mission to get rid of her, so she began to teach Brittany things to say to drive her away.
She made Brittany parrot fat jokes and then some more rude jokes about Josie's mother. She also taught her how to swear in Spanish because in Santana's opinion, that was much stronger than swearing in English. Santana knew more creative ways to swear in Spanish than she did in English, because of the excessively long torrents of it that would come out of her Abuela's mouth, always directed at Santana herself, and sometimes at her absent father.
If there was one thing Santana was good at now, it was being mean.
In her own way, Brittany was constantly helping Santana's crusade to rid the Pierce home of Josie with some of her random comments. The first thing she said to Josie was "I'm sorry you have aids."
Susan had hissed at her daughter angrily, "She doesn't have aids, Brittany, she is an aide to help you learn how to look after yourself better, and to help you with your homework."
Brittany replied, "Um… I'm sorry you are aids then, that's really sad."
Susan gave up, but made a mental note to ask Brittany who it was that was telling her about sexually transmitted diseases.
Brittany was a natural mimic, she took to imitating Santana a little too well. After her brilliant imitation of Santana's 'Save the Josie Whale' speech, and after dumping her cup of water on Josie's head as part of the performance, that was it, Josie was gone.
When Susan asked Brittany if she had said something to her to make her leave, Brittany was completely honest with her when she said she didn't think so.
To celebrate their victory, Santana was going over to Brittany's for a sleepover. They never went to Santana's because the only time they tried that Brittany just stood in the middle of Santana's room the whole time completely confused by the new setting. They were still working on that.
Well, that, and the fact that I don't want Brittany to have to hear Mami and Abuela yelling at me all night, Santana thought. Brittany hears enough just in the twenty minutes she usually stays in my room after walking me home.
Now, they were slowly walking to Brittany's house. Brittany was in a randomly apologetic mood, petting the ducks on the way, and apologizing that she hadn't brought them the bread from her sandwiches.
At least i've managed to convince her not to do that anymore, Santana thought. There wasn't much to eat of sandwiches when you didn't eat the bread. Brittany had a tendency to forget that she needed to eat.
Santana watched her try to pick up a duck, the bird staying still and patiently waiting for her to get a good grip to support its weight. She forgets to eat, but somehow she always seems to remember that the ducks needed feeding, Santana thought, rolling her eyes.
They passed a paddock and next thing Santana knew, Brittany was climbing up the gate and clinging to the top, leaning over towards the horse, and tearfully apologizing to it.
"I'm so sorry your horn fell off," Brittany all but sobbed.
Santana sucked in a breath, afraid she was going to fall. She put hand out and let it stop inches from Brittany's lower back and sighed. She didn't want to startle her by touching her, because that could make things much worse, and almost certainly cause Brittany to lose her balance.
This kind of frustration was becoming a regular thing in Santana's world. There were times where Santana needed to touch her out of necessity, or other times like when Brittany's hair needed fixing, which was kind of all the time because she wasn't very good at doing it herself.
There were also moments that Santana just wanted to show her friend how she felt about her, or moments when Santana felt scared herself, like the time she had broken her Abuela's antique vase. She'd just wanted to bury her face in Brittany's neck and cry.
Brittany was the only one that knew the real story about the vase. After stammering for a while, Santana had admitted how afraid she was about her family finding out about it.
She had told a different story to the boys at school, bragging her butt off instead, and telling them how much money she'd cost her family, and that she was totally badass for not caring about it.
But she couldn't lie to Brittany, and she hadn't even wanted to. Santana had just wanted to hear her say that everything was okay. She wished that Brittany would put her arms around her and hold her sometimes.
In the few years they had known each other now, Brittany had been getting much more comfortable with holding pinkies with her friend, but sometimes Santana just wanted more, but she would never pressure her friend and say it out loud.
Right now I just wish I could hold onto her so she doesn't fall off the damn gate and break her neck, Santana thought, her body tensing.
Sighing, and knowing this wasn't possible, she retracted her hand away and spotted Brittany from the ground ready to attempt to catch her if she actually fell. She was relieved when Brittany jumped down, even if a bit ungracefully, and they walked on.
Brittany began apologizing to blades of grass next for stepping on them. Santana sighed again. She knew where all this apologizing was coming from.
She knew that Brittany hadn't forgotten what Quinn had said to her, and it wasn't like Quinn was going to let Brittany forget it either. She reminded Brittany nearly every day that she didn't like her, and that she didn't deserve for Santana to be her friend.
No matter how many times Santana reassured her that Quinn was just talking shit, Brittany still didn't seem to be able to believe her. Santana wanted to beat Quinn up, but she was already down to being one warning away from getting suspended from school.
Just wait til next year, Santana thought angrily, aiming bad vibes at Quinn. Next year all the warnings reset and I'm back up to five, and I'd totally lose one to teach you a lesson.
Even though Brittany was directing all her apologizing to inanimate things right now, Santana knew the apologies were really meant for her. Santana could tell Brittany was worried about what she would do while Santana was sleeping over. She seemed to have a limit for how long she could appear normal, and she tended to use it all up at school.
At night, Brittany could be confused and inconsolable, thrashing around in her sleep and then getting up dozens of times to do pointless things that suddenly seemed important to her at midnight. She was completely unguarded then, because she seemed to have no other choice but to be herself.
It was a contrast to how she was in school. These days, Brittany was constantly attempting to be more normal by copying everything Santana did. Santana was also noticing that Brittany was becoming a lot quieter, she almost seemed determined to react to almost nothing, just in case it gave her away as being different.
Santana knew that Brittany felt bad about 'being weird' and keeping Santana awake on their sleepovers sometimes, but Santana didn't mind. At least it was the real Brittany.
I like you better this way, Britt, Santana thought, watching the girl apologize to the cracks in the footpath. You're quirky, but at least you're you. I don't like spending time with just your imitation of me.
Tonight turned out to be one of Brittany's better nights. She was calm and relaxed, and just happy to be near Santana.
They had just enjoyed some 'adult cherries' as Brittany called them. Santana went with it, even though she kind of thought they looked more like plums.
Now they were watching an old show called Superted on Brittany's TV, side by side on the couch.
Brittany was sitting on the edge of the couch paying rapt attention, mouthing the words to the opening that was in every episode.
The Rainbow Unillama was old news, Superted was Brittany's thing now and had been for a while.
Santana thought that maybe she related to that bear who was discarded from the factory because there was something wrong with him, like a factory flaw. The good thing though, was that someone found him and brought him to life and gave him superpowers. Santana guessed that Superted made Brittany feel powerful. The episode ended on a cliffhanger with Superted floating through space having lost his memory. Brittany was bouncing around seemingly unable to calm down.
"What happens next, San?" she asked. Brittany often asked Santana questions that Santana couldn't possibly answer. This one was no different, no way did Santana know what happened in the series final. The retro channel was only going to play it next week and Santana hadn't seen it before.
She wasn't going to tell her this though, on account of her insides turning slowly to mush.
Brittany using her nickname always made her soft, so instead she told her that Superted would get his memory back and he would save the world like he always did.
She even acted it out a little, while Brittany hyperactively ran around the room flying an imaginary spaceship, yelling that Santana was totally her 'Mother Nature' that had given her superpowers.
Santana got into it for a while then she paused and just sat there watching her. She was worried. When she first met Brittany she was able to join her when she played make-believe. They had spent many hours chasing rainbows as Brittany learned to share her imaginative worlds with another person.
But now, Santana could feel herself changing. With the exception of their spy games (which she still excelled at in a truly badass way) she was losing her ability to lose herself in the moment when she played with her. Gone were the days that Santana believed that babies came from cabbages and that Cinderella band-aids were things to be treasured.
It wasn't going to be long until trying to join in to Brittany's games would be just awkward for her. Santana was growing up fast, so fast she was already running rings around Brittany who would probably forever inhabit the domain of a child, in many ways not just imagination-wise.
Santana didn't want to grow up if it meant losing this way of relating to her friend. What if we grow so far apart that we stop being best friends? Santana thought.
She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her chest constricting. She willed herself not to cry, not wanting to disturb Brittany who was now 'catching stars' and with some difficulty was throwing her fat cat Lord Tubbington into the air to get them down for her, much to his apparent distress.
Brittany ran over to her and skidded to a stop beside her and studied her for a moment. "San… what's wrong?" she asked.
Santana's heart leapt. She had noticed! She had never done that before. Usually Brittany wasn't able to tell when Santana was sad, unless she was crying. Brittany was now a long way from maybe thinking Santana's tears were related to being a self cleaning device, but this was a new level of progress altogether. Suddenly, Santana wanted to be brave and see if she could achieve another first with Brittany tonight, but she didn't want to push her luck too far.
"Britts," she said slowly, "would you mind if I did your hair?"
Brittany hesitated.
"You can say no," Santana told her, her eyes full of understanding. She knew how hard it was for Brittany to let herself be touched.
Brittany didn't speak, she just edged closer to Santana and sat directly in front of her.
"I'll do it in braids like mine okay?" said Santana, hardly able to contain her joy.
Brittany nodded.
Santana got on her knees and started by touching the ends of Brittany's hair, winding them through her fingers. When no obvious panic happened she moved her hands up and began combing her fingers lightly through her friend's tangled blonde hair. Brittany cringed and started breathing deeply, but Santana kept going, applying different levels of pressure and noting that Brittany seemed to calm down when Santana maintained a firm touch, although still a gentle one. After a while, Santana dropped the pretense of playing hairdresser, the braids forgotten, and she sat as close to her friend as she dared, petting her and stroking her hair, resting her hand at the top of Brittany's head for as long as she dared before bringing it down again.
They sat in silence, keeping the repetitive motion going for a long time. Santana didn't want to stop and Brittany had perhaps forgotten how to move. When Susan called them for dinner, Brittany finally turned around. Her eyes were wide and she was looking at Santana as if she'd never seen her before, as if she realized that Santana's actions were some type of affection and that confused and intrigued her.
Brittany's mom wasn't the affection giving type. She ran such a strict rule based household for Brittany, that there wasn't much room for hugs and kisses, and it wasn't like Brittany had ever asked for it, or done anything but pull away when people had occasionally tried.
This receiving affection thing was completely new, and as Brittany now saw it, decidedly far more interesting than Superted.
Santana smiled warmly at her, realizing that this was the very best so far of the handful of moments she'd had where she felt like she and Brittany were on the same page, both feeling the same connection.
Brittany copied her and managed a small smile back, but the stunned look on her face remained, which was soon matched by Susan who couldn't help but notice her daughter's hair was the neatest tonight than she had ever seen it in Brittany's entire life.
A couple of months later, school broke out and winter break began. Brittany's mom wasn't fond of the Christmas season because of the hysterical effect it had on Brittany.
She usually spent most of her time laying traps for Santa which were always accidentally set off by Susan at the worst of times.
She still laid the traps, but Brittany didn't know what she wanted to do with Santa anymore when she finally caught him. Before Santana came into her life, she had wanted Santa to be her best friend, but no way could she leave for the North Pole with him now without Santana.
Maybe this time if she caught him, she would get mad at him for not writing her back every time she had asked for him to be her friend. She had listed it as her number one wish on her Christmas lists practically every year.
Sure she understood that he wouldn't have time to write her back during the busy holiday season when kids were writing to him all the time, but Brittany had always sent him letters all year round, and she was sure most kids didn't write their Christmas lists until at least October which left nine months of the year that he was probably sitting around doing nothing, which was time he could have used to be writing to her.
She appreciate that he had always brought her great presents, but she had wanted a friend for all these years more than anything. She knew that he liked kids, because why else was he always inviting them to sit in his lap? So where was her personal invitation to the North Pole?
A few nights ago, Santana had slept over again, and Brittany had put glow in the dark paint on her own nose so she could find Santana in the dark.
It was lucky that she did. Brittany was a light sleeper and sprang awake instantly when Santana started shifting in her sleeping bag on the floor whining that she really had to pee.
Neither of them could find their night vision goggles, so Brittany lit a path to the bathroom with her glowing nose for Santana. She then used her nose so they could find their way to the kitchen, and together they broke into the box of cupcakes Mrs Pierce had made for the church bake sale tomorrow.
Brittany picked out the only pink one for Santana and was overjoyed when Santana solemnly handed half of it back to her for Brittany to eat herself. Santa would have never shared. He never even left any of the cookies Brittany left out for him. Santana was a much better friend, and not just because she had a whole two extra letters in her name.
Brittany didn't have anything on her Christmas list this year. She already had a friend, so what more could she want?
All Santana wanted for Christmas was a pet snake. She was pretty sure she wasn't going to get one though, and she knew she was probably going to end up with more of those boring Sunday dresses that she hated so much.
She wasn't bothering to write a Christmas list, she figured that asking her mom every day for one would work just as well.
Brittany vowed to find her a backup snake in case Santa forgot. Santana said that 'Santa' forgot her all the time.
By Christmas day, Brittany had acquired a snake, and was keeping it in a box in her room.
Christmas day was never easy for her. There were always so many relatives crowding around her, and to her they were just people that she hardly knew.
Her mother always hosted a party at their house, and Brittany hated Great Uncle so-and-so trying to ruffle her hair while he told her how big she had grown.
She also hated the way they talked about her as soon as she inevitably ran away from the clutching hands and hid in her room.
The party had moved inside, so Brittany had immediately found her way outdoors to get away from the noise. She had crept around the front and was planning to sit in the garden, when she heard a sniffling noise coming from in there already. She was about to run away because if her flowers had a cold, then she didn't want to go sit with them after all, but then a small voice spoke amidst sobs, hardly able to get the word out.
"B…Britts?"
Brittany peered in and saw Santana, huddled in the flowerbed, her face red and blotchy liked she'd already been crying for a while.
Brittany was confused and her thoughts ran wild. It was Christmas day, shouldn't she be at her house with her family? And why is she hiding in my favorite hiding place? Maybe she's upset because Santa didn't bring her a snake. I can totally fix that.
Santana's breathing was erratic and she hiccuped every now and then between sobs. She kept fidgeting, unsure where to put her hands and her face was streaked with dirt from the garden that had mixed in with her tears every time she wiped her face.
"Britts… I'm sorry if you're b…busy with it being Christmas and all… it's just… I really wanted to see you," she finally managed to get out, "and if I couldn't see you, I just wanted to sit here."
Brittany's mind short-circuited and her thoughts cut out altogether. A million emotions played on her face before she had managed to blank them out again, trying to figure out how to respond the right way. "Why?" she finally said attempting to model a curious look to go along with the question.
Santana took one last shuddering breath and then pulled herself out of the garden to stand in front of Brittany. She felt exposed by the sudden light shining on her face that the shrubbery had blocked out, and she tried to make herself look as small as possible.
She followed Brittany's gaze and realized they were both now intently studying her feet.
She had ran all the way here and hadn't had time to find shoes so it was just her bare feet, with the chipped black nailpolish still left on some of her toes.
"He isn't coming," she finally said, "my Papi. He doesn't even live in this state anymore but my Mami didn't tell me until today. He moved to be with someone else ages ago. I thought he just was too busy at work to see me on weekends now, but he's completely gone. He's got a new family too. He promised to always drop by on Christmas and see me….but…Mami said that he's not coming back. He doesn't want to be with me. Mami said so, and so did my Abuela."
She hid her face in her hands now, dissolving into more tears than Brittany thought was physically possible. Brittany had never seen her cry so hard before. Santana usually hid her emotions from everyone except Brittany, and even then she had still been guarded. She'd also felt uncomfortable with putting her pain onto Brittany, wanting to protect the other girl from the bad things in her life.
Santana wished she hadn't come now, she shouldn't be doing this to Brittany on Christmas. "I'll just go Britt, I'm okay," she said through her fingers, turning to leave.
"Wait," Brittany said softly.
Santana peeked out and saw Brittany's eyes were full of concern and sympathy for her. She could read Brittany so easily.
When Brittany looked at her like this, she immediately knew how much she cared and felt a little better.
Most people choose to display certain emotions to socially fit in better, but Brittany couldn't do that. When she just let herself be like she was doing now, Santana could see everything she was thinking and feeling, Brittany had no idea how to modify her body language to get what she wanted like when Noah did his innocent expression to the teacher to get out of trouble. The only thing she knew how to do was to make her whole face blank and Santana hated it when she did that. When Brittany was unguarded, she could see everything that was inside of her.
She watched Brittany stand there before her, with feelings that only Santana could label flickering across her face.
She knew that Brittany was trying to figure out what to do.
Santana figured that soon Brittany would work out that this was one of those times that Santana wanted her to comfort her and hold her pinky. She was getting good at being able to tell when Santana wanted her to do that. She was also getting pretty good at working out when Santana was hungry and wanted Brittany to make her (or rather explode her) some popcorn, or bored and wanted her to draw her a picture.
Santana almost stopped crying in shock when Brittany tentatively put a hand on her arm, curling it around her sleeve and began shuffling closer to her, gradually moving her hand further up her arm the closer she came. After a beat she slowly slid her hand around her shoulder behind her until she was gripping the back on Santana's shirt. Brittany was taller than her, not by much, but enough that Santana could feel Brittany's warm breath on her cheek.
The last time they had been this close was when they first met years ago at Santana's Papi's waiting room, and Santana braced herself for Brittany to pass out like last time, but Brittany stood firm, drawing her other arm around Santana and clasping her hands together behind her. Santana shuffled her feet closer so that her bare toes were now half on top of Brittany's shoes and their bodies were touching. Brittany could feel Santana breathe out and in rapidly against her, trying to stop herself from crying again.
When Brittany started stroking her hair, the same way Santana had done for her before, Santana broke and lay her head on Brittany's shoulder crying hot tears into her neck. Santana had craved affection from Brittany for so long, but not as long as she had craved affection from her father. Maybe she had lost her papi for good now, but something with Brittany felt as if it was finally just beginning.
Brittany didn't stop. She clutched at Santana with one hand, and ran her fingers through Santana's thick black hair with the other until the other girl had finally calmed and stopped shuddering against her, and had shifted her feet completely on top of Brittany's so Brittany was supporting all her weight.
"You're my best friend, my only friend," Santana mumbled into the side of Brittany's neck. She knew that Brittany wouldn't have the presence of mind to respond, at least not with actual words, but the fact that she was here, holding her, making her feel so safe in spite of how hard this would be for her, spoke for more than could ever be said.