The Road to Unicorn Chapter 19: Murphy's Bitch, a glee fanfic

Okay, I'll try to keep my responses short this time so I can catch everyone. :) Actually some of you I have already responded to in PM's already.

Puff614 – Thanks for the cyber hug! Sending you one back :) I also figured out that the names right there are clickable and your profile says you have a wife, so this is me having a unicorns-in-love party for you and her. :D I know it's old-news for you, but it's the best new-news for me ever! And I'm celebrating right now with cupcakes.

luceroadorada – Aww thank you so much on her behalf :D

Tonker – I definitely didn't take it as a bad thing. :) Success is all about describing the human experience well enough to bring about emotions, I think, so thank you very much for what you said. :)

hlnwst - Haha, I am blushing so much right now with all those compliments. :) I think it would be impossible to stop writing with that kind of encouragement, you are a fantastic motivator. I'm so glad I managed to write this in an accessible way, because I've been described as a very inaccessible person in the past, and I wanted to learn how to share a story rather than just tell one all in my 'own language.' I have a comment I want to make on being a hopeless romantic, but it will have to wait until the final chapter, but I won't forget! Thanks for making me feel like a really-real writer :) PS, I did the 'so here's what you missed on glee,' thing again just for you 'cause you mentioned you liked the last one!

gleetan – Don't worry, I've decided no hiatus is happening! Thanks for reading :)

prattle01 – Sending you hugs for all the sadness of the last chapter. :) You have a page in my diary too, by the way. I drew a little unicorn to represent you, and it has its hoofs out giving super powerful bitch slaps because I can always count on you to deal them out when needed to all the mean people in this story. :) Underneath it in swirls and flowery writing says "You have a way with words that I really really love" and there's lots of other quotes from you there too. Anyway, thanks as always for reading. :)

NoPlainJane - Oh wow, I wish I could hear Sherbet's version of your events too. It sounds like he was a witness in the frontline, travelling with you guys, and seeing it all. There's a whole story in that, all from his point of view, I can imagine him as the narrator sounding kind of whimsically protective of you guys. :)
I'm really sorry to hear you don't have your Nana anymore, I still miss mine so bad even years later, and thanks for what you said about my cat.
I'd love it if we could help each other… I've been trying to figure out how to contact you since it says you don't have an account here. I have the email I signed up for with for this fic which is: theroadtounicorn (then the general at hotmail dot com address, all with no spaces anywhere). I promise I will try to not ask too many questions :)

Miara848 – Lol, I will most likely address what's in the mysterious letter next chapter… unless it gets too long and I have to split the whole thing up, 'cause then it will have to be the one after. :) I loved this quote of yours "there's a lot more to the ocean than its name" because if anyone's as deep as the ocean it would have to be Santana. Also, I love, love, love it that you painted a blue rose in art class. That has to be the most awesome thing I've heard all week. *gives you the biggest hug back*

Kaau3189 – I loved what you said, because I so believe that even though much of this is sad, it's not a sad story, because all of it has brought me to where I am now. Thanks for reading, I'm glad you're here :)

harumad – I loved when Santana talked to my cats too… she had this side of her that was really fun and sweet and playful, she mostly only used it with me though. I completely agree with you about souls staying with you, and I think even when people are still living but it's like they become different and their soul kind of changes, that former part can live in somebody who loved them as they were, just as long as that person can still remember. Thank you for always making time to review even though I know you're busy because I always love hearing what you think :)

xoxo – So glad to see you back and hopefully mostly recovered from the Glee drama! I agree, so much did happen in chapter 17… and I think it ended up being about 20k so really it was like 3-4 chapters in one. Thanks so much for making it all the way through and for sharing your thoughts!

So here's what you missed on Glee.

Whew! They don't pay me enough to try and sum this up. There's been really great times, and really sad times, and sometimes both at once. Even if it hasn't seemed like it, Santana and Brittany have made tiny steps of progress together the whole way, and that's accounting for all the leaps and the falls. It seems funny to think back to the earlier days now, and remember how unresponsive Brittany used to be, and how badly she used to be at expressing herself. Hey, at least she actually talks now! The confronting situations that come with loving Santana have really forced her to grow up, because if she stayed the same and never learned how to understand and care for Santana, she may well have been left behind.

And, even though Santana is still defensive, she has come a long way in learning how to be there for Brittany, and now places more importance on that than she ever has before. That's been good for her, it has made her softer and in her worst moments it has helped her find something to live for, and is something she has always taken pride in.

Those two became kind of sexual too. Wow. I know I'm just the narrator guy, but I know I need a cold shower. It was inevitable, I guess. It's pretty obvious that Brittany wants to help Santana, and recognizes that she can help her in ways other people seem to not have the power to help. She wants to help so bad that I think she'd do almost anything, and I guess 'trying harder' often leads to crossing new boundaries physical or otherwise. I guess Brittany thinks that if only she could show Santana that level of dedication, it will make all the difference. Just one more thing might finally make them connect on that level so she can reach her, and Santana might get better. Brittany's trying not to lose herself in the process, but it's possible she never really had herself to begin with. She's never really focused on herself, just on Santana. Also, may the fat cat rest in peace.

And that's what you missed, on Glee!

Chapter 19 – Murphy's Bitch

Brittany S. Pierce, Present.

Kesha is a cultural icon. We all want to do her music justice.

One of her most inspiring messages is that We R who we R.

So who R we? I'd like to just call us unicorn superstars, but it's hard to always feel like that. All people have many sides, some almost too hard for us to admit are really part of us.

Santana had the angry raging version of herself, and I had Autistic-Brittany, and in the days when these sides of us came out, we did not feel like superstars at all.

Miss Pillsbury went as far as to say that both Santana and I had a tendency to 'dissociate,' which is just a fancy way of saying we often detached from ourselves and our surroundings.

That's how Snix was born, and it also explained my lapsing into fantasies to escape.

Everyone dissociates. When you lose track of the world outside of what you're doing, like if you sit for hours writing an assignment not noticing the time going by - that's dissociation.
Usually while driving, most people naturally dissociate, because while you still remain in control of the vehicle, you might be seeing other things in your head that aren't really there. You might be picturing someone you love, or that pair of shoes you need, or perhaps the going through the bills you have to pay this week.

Everyone does it, but there's still a line that can't be crossed, at least not if you want to keep your grip on reality.

When I found the world too scary, I'd leave it, seeing what could be classed as other worlds in my mind, where cats could read diaries, where god might be an evil dwarf and where time machine's exist. Often, I would be a completely different person in those worlds.
It was a lot about distracting myself, and trying out different identities so I didn't have to be autistic.

Santana did the same thing with Snix, insisting that she became another person entirely when she was angry. She had a dark side, and a lot of anger over how she'd been treated in life, but not really an acceptance for this anger. She would get angry, and then she would be cruel to other people, and she would always think that this made her a bad person. So, she invented Snix, a separate and distant side of her who could take all the blame for it all, so that Santana could save face.

We were both running away from ourselves, both not really able to be complete as people, while our identities were split in two.

We were more alike than we ever thought.

Brittany S. Pierce, age 17.

(S)- I'm coming home soon, Britt! My plane just landed. I've just got something to do first. PS. Missing you like crazy - Santana

(B)- OMG aweekearly? socntwt2cu! Gonnagveuthebggsthg! - B

(S)- Okay, yeah, Britt, you must be excited. You only text speak me like that when you have happy fingers.

(B)- Sorry, it's just that I've missed you so bad, I've got so much to tell you. How was your flight?

(S)- I hate flying -_-

(B) -Aww, I know. Poor San, I'm gonna give you an even bigger hug now. Did you catch a snake?

(S) -No Britt, unfortunately there aren't snakes on all the planes. But I specifically requested one of those in-flight coloring-in books for you.

(B) -The one where you can color-in the boy barfing into his sick bag rainbow colors?

(S) -Yep. The flight attendant totally stared at me the wrong way when I asked for it too.

(B) -Is she dead?

(S) -Nope. She got lucky.

…

(S) -Britts, why'd you stop texting :(

(B) -Oh, I didn't hear my phone go off 'cause I'm eating cheetos. I just recorded the sound of me eating them on webcam to see if it's just as loud outside my mouth. It's totally louder. Or my speakers are up too loud. Call me and you can listen!

(S) -That's very tempting Britt, but I think they're about to call my name to go in here.

(B) -That's okay. I finished the packet anyway. :(

(S) -You're okay right? You've been eating?

(B) -Yep! And I've even been cooking. I'm awesome. Even the fire alarm cheered me on!

(S) -Oh my god Britt, are you okay?

(B) -I'm great! My dinner and me are smokin'

(S) -I think I just saw a clever little play on language there.

(B) -I am the master of the English language now… sort of. Hey, how was your mom's friend, was she nice?

(S) -She drove me insane. She kept wanting me to call her 'auntie' and she kept coming in and leaving my door open when I was trying to pretend that she didn't exist. Her family was kind of mean as well :(

(B) -Well, I hope they all stand on a Lego in the dark.

(S) -You would say that Britt. And I'll take it, because coming from you that's some hulk-like aggression right there.

(B) -Just defending your honor… and you left them alive right?

(S) -You honestly think I'm that homicidal? And unfortunately, yes they will live another day.

(B) -You can be the hulk, and I'll be your hulk-ette. You're gonna explode through your clothes.

(S) -Just… wanky.

(B) -I've missed you so much, San.

(S) -Britts, you keep that feeling okay, and promise you won't be too mad when you see me?

(B) -Why would I be mad? – B

…

(B) -Why would I be mad? Did you do something?

…

(B) -San?

…

(B) -San, I'm watching Despicable Me, you have to watch this. There's this great song. Hang on, I'll text you the lyrics.

Unicorns I love them, unicorns I love them. Uni-unicorns I love them!

…

(B) -San? did you like the song? Do you want to hear the Purple People Eater song now?

-…

(B) -I'm getting really worried. Where are you? - B

(S) -Britt Britt? I can't see my feet. Do I have feet?

Brittany looked up from her phone. When Santana started acting like her, it was always cause for alarm. She tapped out a message quickly.

(B) -Where are you? – B

(Q) -Hi Brittany, this is Quinn on Santana's phone. You need to get to her house, right now.

"You know what? Brittany is the least of your worries, Santana," Quinn said throwing open the car door to Santana's side.

"What about what Coach Sue is going to say And, of course Brittany's going to notice, especially considering how close you both seem to each other," Quinn yelled, struggling to keep her anger under control before she said something she'd regret.

"What would you know?" Santana tried to yell back, but found that her loudest was hardly loud. Her throat was scratchy and dry. Yelling, (or as close as she got to it) somehow strained her chest and pulled everything tighter, and while it didn't hurt all that bad, it didn't exactly feel good.
She hid her face in her hands. Was Quinn still driving or was her head still spinning?

"Maybe Brittany will just think I'm sick," she said softly, knowing as soon as she said it, that that would never be the case.
She looked down. Her chest was so swollen. Will it get better, or will it always look like this, she wondered.

Quinn gave her an exasperated look. Brittany wasn't bright, but no-one could miss that rack.

"They look amazing anyway, I knew it would be worth it," Santana mumbled as defiantly as she could.

"Yeah, totes amazeballs, Lady Ta-ta," Quinn drawled sarcastically.

Too involved in their argument, neither Quinn nor Santana heard the hurried pattering footsteps Brittany made running up the path.

"Hi Quinn," Brittany said noticing her first, then puffing and bending double. "That's a record," she said, "that's the least number of steps I've taken to get to Santana's place yet!"
She had run all the way from her house to Santana's, but even miles away she had seen Quinn standing beside her parked car, yelling at it furiously. "Why are you so angry at your car?" she asked.

Quinn turned towards her, gesturing to Santana in the back seat.

A smile split Brittany's face in half. "Santana!" she exclaimed, and stepped back, poised for a hug-attack. We can do that thing where we roll around in the backseat again, Brittany thought joyfully. She paused.
Well, maybe we can, if only we can get rid of Quinn. Maybe we could convince her she really needs to pee. That would be enough time for a proper hello, Brittany thought. Quinn takes ages in the bathroom, not on the peeing part, but whenever she walks past a mirror she gets her face stuck in it for at least fifteen minutes. I don't know what she's looking at, but she always looks so sad.

Watching Brittany shift in a catlike pose that reminded her of a feline about to pounce, Quinn reached over quickly and held her back. "Wait Brittany, you have to be careful," she said, not unkindly, tightening her grip on her arm.

Brittany looked at her, willing her to explain why. Quinn had been nicer to her ever since she'd gotten pregnant, and especially since she'd had her baby and had become obsessed with mirrors. Maybe she thought having a baby made her not pretty?

"You're really pretty Quinn," Brittany told her honestly.

Where did that come from? Quinn thought confused. Brittany always confused the hell out of her; she was like putting together a puzzle without seeing the picture on the box. She looked at Brittany's irritatingly sincere face, and noticed for what seemed like the tenth time lately, that the sight of her didn't make her want to slap her nearly as much it had used to.

The realization always hit her square in her own face. She had spent so long hating Brittany, and not really knowing why. If she had to guess, she'd probably put It down to the fact that she had always hated the way Brittany could get away with things and people would just shrug and say 'yeah, that's just Brittany.'
But if I do anything out of the ordinary, people gasp like a dying fish, she thought. Why did Brittany get excuses made for her when Quinn herself was always condemned?

After she got pregnant, she'd wanted to hate her more than ever, but she couldn't. If anything, she now felt strangely maternal, even protective, towards the girl, like they were no longer that different. Brittany hadn't cared that was pregnant, and had talked about it like it was the most ordinary thing in the world, which had earned her some odd stares from other people. Yes, she had definitely asked way too many personal questions, but in a way, having Brittany sit by her and stare at her until Quinn let her feel where the baby's feet were again and again, had made her feel both normal and special all at once.

I guess there's something about walking around with a baby bump advertising 'I am a teen rebel' that is so freeing. Sometimes I just kind of want to dye my hair pink and wear black and just not give a fuck, Quinn thought. Brittany didn't seem to know how to be anything but 'free' and Quinn was beginning to wish she hadn't bullied her so much for that. Now, when I look at her, maybe I don't want to slap her anymore, but I still kind of want to push her and then maybe... Quinn couldn't finish the thought.

Quinn kept her hand on Brittany's arm, seeing she was still ready to spring onto Santana at any moment. Taking Santana's whole form in, Brittany's eyes grew wide.

"Woah, baby!" Brittany exclaimed, shooting glances back and forward to Quinn and Santana, and then pointing at Santana's chest. "Did you finally cash in?" she blurted out, looking down at her own chest and finding her boobs still there. She shook her head to clear it. No, that wasn't possible. A child's cheque willing one's bodyparts to another did not give boobs the ability to teleport. She breathed in and out, trying to get back her grasp on reality, her eyes still goggling.

"Quinn?" she asked, when Santana said nothing, her head still buried in her hands.

"Santana, get out of my car now," Quinn said, "we're here, we're not driving anymore."

"Santana looks like Katy Perry in that video I saw the other day," Brittany said to herself, unaware that no one was listening to her. "She also needs the blue hair and those daisy dukes, bikini's on top."

"We are so still driving," Santana said pouting, clutching at her head as if to keep it steady, "and you're still driving over ever single hole in the road you can find, and you're making my head spin."

"Ohh ahh ohh ahhh ohh ahh ohhhh," Brittany sung the tune to California girls, literally dancing to the beat of her own drum.

"We've been parked for ages, and for your information I avoided every hole in the road and crawled over every speed bump, which made me drive slower than even Puck does when he's circling round the Cheerios at practice, hoping to see some skin," Quinn said angrily. "As pissed off with you as I am, I was so not having you throw up in my car."

At the mention of being sick, a moan escaped Santana's throat. She felt like her stomach was still turning around and tumbling over itself, like it was watching a workout video. How were they not driving when she felt this bad?

Brittany snapped out of her musical interlude and turned her attention quickly to Santana. "San? What's wrong," she asked worriedly.

"Nothing's wrong," Santana snapped, not seeing Brittany's hurt expression.

Quinn sighed dramatically. "She just had a type of surgery," Quinn told her, ignoring Santana's various attempts at making threatening gestures, all of which somehow only managing to make her look more vulnerable.

"It's not a costume?" Brittany asked.

"No. You remember when I had surgery on my stomach, when I had Beth?" Quinn asked, thinking of her cesarean.

Brittany nodded. She remembered the Glee club sitting somberly backstage at Regionals waiting for news from Mercedes, who was passing on the latest as soon as it happened. Brittany had sat at Santana's feet, her head in her lap as the dark haired girl had explained the workings of it to her, how you had to cut open a person to take out the smaller person, and then get stitched up and healed. The healing had taken a while and there had been risks to Quinn's health.

Brittany had sat in the room backstage looking down at her own stomach and touching it gingerly, until Santana had finally looked up from the magazine she was reading to ask if she was okay. She had looked like she might pass out when Brittany had then informed her that she would totally carry their baby so she didn't have to.

Brittany let her mind wander now, to a place where the surgery Santana had just had could have been just like Quinn's. She pictured the baby she and Santana would have had, wishing that it would have all of Santana's features rather than her own, so she could have a tiny Santana and a big one all to herself, even if they were both just as grumpy as each other.

Except that's not possible, Brittany reminded herself. Unless of course Santana was part Whiptail Lizard.

The Whiptails were an all female species, there weren't any males at all.

"Are you like a lizard, San?" Brittany asked hopefully, craning her neck to see if there really was a mini-Santana in the car.

Santana made an uncoordinated beheading motion on her own neck at Quinn, seeing that Brittany's mind had now wandered off, and clearly Quinn was to blame for it.

"Well it's like that," Quinn continued, ignoring her and unconsciously brushing her hand over her scar. "Except she did it on her boobs, and it's nothing like what I went through, because she put silicon implants in there, instead of taking … something that needed to be taken out."
She paused. "And, Coach Sylvester is going to freak."
Quinn turned to Santana. "I guess you're just dying to be stuck on the bottom of the pyramid. It makes sense now I guess, because with all that extra weight, you're totally now the heaviest." She couldn't help sending another glare into her direction.

It was Brittany's turn to restrain Quinn then, clamping a hand firmly on her arm, not seeing the goose bumps that immediately pricked up.

"You're such a bitch…," Santana complained, weakly. Maybe it was better to tell Brittany straight up with all the facts like this, but logic so wasn't cooperating with her right now.

"Surgery? Implants? But why?" Brittany asked as if Quinn knew all the answers. I never got to say goodbye to Lilo and Stitch, she thought unhappily, wondering what she would name Santana's new boobs. She thought wistfully of all the pretty outfits Santana had worn over the years with them, unable to cope with the sudden change. She felt like she had turned her back for two seconds, and a part of Santana had become different. Goodbye Lilo, goodbye Stitch.

"Beats the hell out of me," Quinn growled. "Now can you get her out of my car, because I've done my part, I dropped her home, and now I really have to go." She tossed a bag full of drugs in Brittany's direction. "Here's her prescription, she's going to be in pain for a while," Quinn said, unable to mask the concern in her voice.

"Pain?" Brittany asked, paling as it hit her. This was serious. Pain meant that Santana had deliberately hurt herself again. This whole 'implants' thing was so confusing.

Quinn found herself desperately needing to put much distance between herself and the two of them right then. She couldn't look at Santana right now, and Brittany's little lost Bambi expression was wearing her patience thin. Thank god for Brittany though, Quinn thought. If she hadn't come, Quinn knew she would have had to stay.

"Come on San, I'll carry you inside," Brittany said reaching out to her and unbuckling her seatbelt.

Santana breathed a sigh of relief, the belt had been cutting into her stomach, making her feel worse. Without it, the nausea began to subside.

"I wouldn't do that," Quinn said quietly, "don't pick her up. I wouldn't hug her either, you could hurt her. Be very careful."

Brittany's hands flew to her sides as if they had become dangerous things and she whimpered.

"Ugh, stop it Quinn," Santana said, seeming to wake up from a trance at Brittany's cry. "I'm fine. Okay, I'm coming out."

She attempted to get out, and felt Quinn's hand come to rest on her back helping her stand, and she figured the hands accidently sliding lower past normal boundaries in their effort to help were Brittany's.

Quinn was speaking to Brittany in a low voice. "She'll be a nightmare when the anesthesia wears off and I don't envy you. Give her pills for the pain. Don't let her lift her arms up, in fact don't let her do anything. She needs to keep her chest taped up and she can't shower. I'll get someone to cover for you with your mom, so if your mom calls your cell, you're staying with Mercedes. I'll say you're doing Christian stuff together, I'm good at sorting out moms," she assured her.

Brittany nodded earnestly, but Quinn could see her eyes were glassy and preoccupied so she simplified things.

"Look Brittany, one pill after Ellen and then…-"

"We were gonna watch DVDs," Brittany interrupted.

"Okay so whenever you get to putting a new disk in, you give Santana another pill, got it?"

"Got it," Brittany agreed.

"I don't need pills," Santana grumbled.

"Oh that's just like you isn't it," Quinn shot back, "you won't take them when you need them, you only take them when you don't. You're impossible."

"Yeah? Well you're a freaking psycho," Santana glared, unable to think of a better response than that, "and you drive like one too."

Quinn didn't take the bait. "Feel better Santana," she said.

"Already do," Santana said, kicking at something invisible in the dirt.

"Come on you grouch," Brittany said, putting her arm around her and waving goodbye to Quinn with her other hand. "You wake up under the bed this morning?"

"That's on the wrong side of the bed, Britt," Santana said softening now they were alone.

"Well I wake up under the bed sometimes and then I never have good days after that."

"That's because you sleepwalk, and somehow after you've made some kind of weird concoction of food in the kitchen, you head straight for under your bed," Santana said, staggering a bit over some uneven ground. She'd had more than enough sleepovers with Brittany to notice the Cooking a la Brittany show she put on while asleep, and then the eventual under-the-bed retreat.

"Well, last time I woke up under there, I had been dreaming that all these birds were flinging themselves against my window really hard and then they like bounced off and went poof into thin air. Disaster!" Brittany shuddered at the thought. "You would have ducked for cover too."

"Aww, Britt," Santana said, leaning on her shoulder heavily, "was it one of those hell on earth, end of the world dreams with like acid rain and then everything in the sky crashing down and dying?" I have them all the time, she added in her head.

"Nope, worse."

Santana raised an eyebrow.

"God was playing angry birds," Brittany told her. "He thought I was an evil pig. I had to check I wasn't. It was confusing. I woke up under my bed, holding a gummy bear Sandwich with Lord…-" Brittany trailed off. "Well the sandwich tasted good that time."

"How is that worse Britt?"

"God mistook me for an evil pig," Brittany repeated pointedly,

"Oh, Brittany, you and your obsession with watching me play Angry Birds is really starting to take over your life in these strange little ways."

Brittany giggled. "You miss hitting the pigs, then you get even angrier than the birds, it's so funny to watch."

"Well, I'm glad my rage amuses you," Santana said in an almost scathing tone.

"Aww, San, you know what I mean," Brittany said frowning, worried that she'd offended her.

Santana exhaled. She hadn't meant to upset her. She tried to smile. "Maybe you're right Britt Britt. I guess I woke up on the wrong side of the operating table before. It was so fucking cold in that room, like it was a freezer. I can't seem to get warm even now," she muttered.

Brittany searched her face trying to decide what to do next. "There's no TV in your room San, so I'm going to make a fort in the den, while you get warm and sleep for a while. Then when it's built, I'll let you over the moat past Senor S, the dragon, 'cause I'll get Kurt to bring him over here. It's going to be the biggest and best pillow fort ever and I'm going to steal all the mattresses from the spare rooms," she told her. "And then, we can take it over and move in, and not let anyone else in, ever."

Santana shrugged. She was kind of tired, and her brain was still fuzzy from being put under. She let Brittany lead her to her room and help her lie down. Brittany covered her in blankets, and Santana sighed contentedly, then pushed away the bottle of pills Brittany handed her. "Don't listen to Quinn. I'm fine," she said, unused to having to sleep on her back, instead of on her side.
This wasn't a big deal.
She said it out loud. "This isn't a big deal, Brittany. I'm fine, and this is what I wanted to do with my body."

Brittany nodded, wondering if she was serious, or in heavy denial. Whichever the case, she couldn't force her to take the pills if she didn't want to. She hoped she'd change her mind later. For some reason Santana wanted to make a huge show of being fine, and obviously she thought that if she refused pills, there was no better convincing argument, since she usually took so many others on a day to day basis when she wasn't fine.

Sitting beside her, Brittany was unsure whether or not she could hold her hand, but she didn't have to wonder long. Within seconds, Santana had already fallen into a deep sleep, breathing heavily.

"It's not a big deal, just like everything else that's ever happened to you right?" she said to Santana's sleeping form softly, before standing up and turning away.

Maybe after their time apart she had wanted them to have a big reunion where they kind of ran to each other in slow motion, fitting together like two halves of a whole, but she was almost used to things never seeming to work out like she wanted them to work out now.

Besides, she had a fortress to build.

And, maybe a shrine to Lilo and Stitch, but that one could wait, she mused. She didn't want Santana to think she didn't like her new body, because that wasn't even true. Santana was still beautiful, just different. It was like Brittany hadn't met a part of her yet, and she liked to know all of the pieces of Santana. She missed Stitch the most. It had jumped around a little more than Lilo and had more personality. And why hadn't Santana told her she was getting surgery done? Had she told Quinn beforehand?

Brittany shrugged. She couldn't let it matter right now, she had to push those thoughts aside to make sure Santana was okay.

After dragging several mattresses down, and making a floor and three walls, Brittany decided against a roof, because if they had a roof, how could they pretend to see the stars? She brought as many pillows down as she could carry, scattering them inside her creation. Now that she was a professional builder, she totally needed to have her buttcrack showing to look the part, except her clothes weren't cooperating.

She ran back upstairs to tell Santana was done. When she entered the room, Santana's eyes were wide open, but they were confused and hazy as if she couldn't remember how she had got here. Her face was contorted in pain, yet confused as if she didn't understand why everything hurt. She raised her arms to touch her own face as if that might provide her answers, and cried out when she felt something in her body pull, like a puppet strung too tight.

"Put your hands down, Santana," Brittany told her, standing in the doorway. Quinn had specifically told her not to let Santana do that.

Just seeing her brought back every detail of the past twenty four hours to Santana's mind. She remembered getting off the plane and going straight to the clinic. She could still see her shaking hands flipping through brochures she really wasn't interested in, and then throwing them all aside to text Brittany about anything she could think of to distract herself. She had then been called in. And then nothing. After that she had so suddenly been in the freezing cold post-operating room, Quinn's car, and now here. Her body felt bruised and broken.

Santana turned her head and locked eyes with her. She knew they were both thinking the same thing.

Why did I do this?

Why did you do this?

Tensing, Santana became frightened that she could never explain to her why she had made this choice. It wasn't just the surgery, she was always afraid that she could never explain to Brittany why she made the choices she made and kept making. She could never even explain them to herself, let alone Brittany. Sometimes, it felt like a completely different person had made them.

"You need to take one of these pills, San," Brittany told her, approaching her slowly as if she wasn't sure how she'd react.

Santana panicked. She wanted to explain herself, and unable to say what she wanted, she panicked more, her capabilities of self expression reduced to nothing but hysterical tears.

Brittany immediately moved closer, trying to find some part of her to hold that wasn't sore, and Santana roughly batted her hands away.

"Don't touch me," Santana sobbed, "no, no, no, no."

"San, just let me make you more comfortable okay? And I'll bring you some cookies or something, because you're supposed to take pills with food. You told me that, and you always give good advice."

"Just go away, Brittany," Santana wheezed, trying to swallow down her cries and the dryness in her throat all at once. "I'm fine."

Brittany shook her head. She hadn't always known better, but she did now. Go away in Santana language always meant don't leave me.

Sensing that Brittany saw through her, only made Santana more agitated.

"You like Quinn more than me," she gasped. It had just slipped out and she hadn't even known she had been thinking it, or where it had come from.

Brittany almost choked on the gum she was chewing. "What?" she asked.

"It's nothing," Santana said closing her eyes in pain. "Just leave."

Brittany sighed, trying to stay calm and not be buried in all the tension of the room. Santana was so frustrating when she was like this. She always put up her biggest wall when she really needed to lower her defenses and rely on someone else. Once they were past that one really big wall, everything would be okay.

She's clearly out of her right mind with pain, Brittany thought, taking in her tight tense muscles and shaking hands. She knew Santana wouldn't be able to keep her wall up forever. She would crack, and when she did, Brittany would be there.

She always came to her when she was sad, even if it took a while. That was what she had spent so long talking to Granny about. Sharing pain was hard, but sharing happiness was harder still. She'll come around, Brittany thought, she always does.

She moved a chair closer to Santana's bed and sat down. I just have to wait her out, Brittany thought, until she realizes she has no choice but to accept my help.

Nearly an hour later, Santana's hysterical cries had turned finally turned into quiet sobs. Twenty minutes after that they had become even quieter sniffling sounds which had since tapered off. She seemed exhausted. Brittany's eyes roamed over her body. She was still now, holding herself in a way that suggested she was afraid to move even an inch, for fear of more sharp, stabbing pains. Brittany knew she was close.

"I'm really close tonight, and I feel like I'm moving inside her," Brittany sung, breaking the silence. "Lying in the dark."

Santana's head turned slowly to face her. Her red eyes were almost swollen shut. The tear tracks and the oversized shirt made her look younger than she was. Brittany ached to hold her and try to kiss her better.

"And I think that I'm beginning to know her. Let it go. I'll be there when you call," she continued, feeling every word ring true. When Santana was sad, and that one big wall finally came down, that was when Brittany really saw her. When she was happy she had so far remained so guarded, but when she cried, Brittany felt like she could see every inch of her. Santana kept claiming that she didn't have a happy side to see, but Brittany disagreed. She knew it was there, it was just a side that Brittany only knew distantly, while Santana wasn't aware of its presence at all.

"And whenever I fall at your feet, you let your tears rain down on me. Whenever I touch your slow turning pain," Brittany sung, coming to kneel by the bed, eye level with her, her fingers creeping just shy of Santana's hand.

"You're hiding from me now. There's something in the way that you're talking, words don't sound right. But I hear them all moving inside you. Go, I'll be waiting when you call." Brittany stopped when Santana closed her eyes. Was she making all this worse? Should she have given her more time? Was Santana trying to block her out because she wasn't sounding all that good?

When she didn't immediately continue, Santana's tired eyes opened again, as if to say 'why did you stop?'

Brittany smiled and kept going. "And whenever I fall at your feet. You let your tears rain down on me. Whenever I touch your slow turning pain."

Brittany stretched her hand out as if to touch Santana, curling her fingers over midair.

A soft breeze blew a lock of Santana's hair over her face. Brittany unclenched her fingers and reached out the extra distance and hesitantly brushed it back, keeping her hand there when Santana didn't pull away.
She brushed her thumb over her cheek, feeling the wetness of her tears soak into her fingers as Santana leaned into her touch, the movement subtle and almost unconscious.

"The finger of blame has turned upon itself, and I'm more than willing to offer myself, do you want my presence or need my help. Who knows where that might lead?"
Who knows where that might lead? Brittany thought. That's what I told Granny. If I can only get you to trust me completely when you're sad, you might trust me to let me make you happy.

"Whenever I fall at your feet. You let your tears rain down on me. Whenever I fall. Whenever I fall," Brittany trailed off, weaving her fingers through Santana's hair one last time and drawing the last of the moisture off her face with her other hand.

Rising up slowly to stand up, Brittany went to sit back at her chair, facing away from her. Another ten minutes went by before she heard Santana say her name so hesitantly, her voice cracking on the last syllable

Brittany was at her side in an instant. "I'm right here," she promised her, clasping one of her hands between her own. "Let's get you downstairs."

"I feel like shit that just rolled over…and then walked down the street getting run over by a passing truck, and then walked right into a cafe and bought a bagel but then ran into the automatic door…- "

"And then stood on a Lego and then kicked its little toe on the edge of the couch, and then got its man bits stuck in a zipper?" Brittany added, her voice climbing higher at the end to phrase it as a question.

"Something like that," Santana agreed.

"That sounds almost like a movie, but definitely not one I want to see." Brittany paused. "Can I undress you?"

"I'm not even gonna say it." Santana's mouth twitched up slowly at the corners in an attempt to smile. Brittany almost never saw the sexual connotations of things until long after she had spoken.

"I will. Wanky!" Brittany said bouncing on her heels, filling up a bowl with warm water.

"How did you make that so completely fucking adorable?" Santana said, poking her in the ribs, her attempt at a smile, almost becoming a real one.
"And the answer is yes," she told her dropping her eyes down slightly with embarrassment, and leaning against the sink.

Brittany went for the t-shirt first, carefully slipping it over Santana's head. She then unbuttoned Santana's shorts and then slowly pulled them down. "Are the drugs kicking in yet?" she asked.

"Yeah," Santana said, sitting down and resting her head against the back of the chair. "They make me sleepy and wired all at once. Except I don't want to sleep anymore. And I feel gross."
Santana had slept for almost two days while Brittany had played guardian angel, watching over her day and night. She was well and truly sick of sleeping now, and even more sick of the fact that she couldn't shower and wash away the lingering smell of surgery. Maybe it was only imaginary, but she hated it all the same.

"You'll feel better after I've cleaned you up a bit," Brittany promised her.

Santana frowned. "You shouldn't have to do this."

"I want to, you're my…-" Brittany started. Friend… best friend… lover, partner, soulmate… my whole world, she thought, going over the options.
"I want to… you're my Santana," Brittany finished, shrugging.

Santana's eyes clouded over slightly.

"Lean back as far as you can," Brittany told her, freeing all of her hair that was trapped behind her, so it now flowed over the back of the chair. "I'll do your hair first."

"This is embarrassing," Santana muttered, clearly feeling humiliated as she let Brittany carefully untangle her hair, the blonde resting her hand on her forehead so no water would go in Santana's eyes while she squeezed the sponge over her head.

"No honey, it's fine," Brittany reassured her, combing her fingers all the way through. Santana had such beautiful hair. It was thick and coarse, like a lion's mane, not soft but thin like Brittany's own. Santana had once told her that her hair was as soft as baby hair, and Brittany had been quick to correct her and say 'adult baby' unlike a regular one.
"Did you know Lion's can have sex fifty times a day?" she asked, patting Santana's hair again.

Santana blinked, and the tension in her body eased a bit as she wondered why Brittany went there. "No… I didn't actually know that, Britt. You run out of cat facts and have to study lions?"

"Yep," Brittany agreed, lathering some shampoo in her hands and rubbing them over Santana's head. She combed her fingers through a couple more times, trying to get her to relax.

"Fuck her yet?" Santana muttered, starting the quoting game they always played, making an attempt to stop feeling so awkward about the situation.

"Working on it," Brittany answered cheerfully. Ever since they had first watched the movie Cruel Intentions, Santana would always quote the phonecall scene, usually doing it in the most inappropriate of times and always expecting Brittany to join in.

"Loser," Santana continued.

"Blow me!" Brittany said, concluding her part. She had no doubt that Santana only ever did this, to hear her say that.

Santana cracked a smile. "Call me later," she said, finishing the last line.

"You wanna watch Cruel Intentions when we're done here?" Brittany asked. It was pretty much Santana's all time favorite movie, and Brittany knew she usually got a little hot seeing Sarah Michelle Gellar kiss a girl, although she knew she wasn't supposed to know that.

"Nah, I was thinking we should watch The OC," Santana said,

"Whots thaahht," Brittany asked, in a heavy accent.

Santana's smile grew. "Who just answered me?" she asked.

"The new British waitress at BreadStix," Brittany answered. "I met her while you were away. I've been following her around because her accent sounds awesome and she's really nice, and only a couple of years older than us."

"Be careful, Britt," Santana said, jealousy immediately inflaming her features, "you don't really know her, she could be secretly an axe murderer or an evil fisherman."

"Mhmm," Brittany hummed, humoring her, "or one of the original hyenas from The Lion King."
Santana could be so jealous sometimes, she thought, finishing Santana's hair and starting on what she could safely clean of her upper body.

Santana's body trembled, not because the water was cold, but because Brittany was somehow managing to caress her just as much as she was cleaning her. "The OC has a unicorn," she blurted out, "named Princess Sparkles, and she's in love with Captain Oats the horse. You'll love it."

Brittany studied her for a moment squinting as if she was trying to figure her out. "Just relax San," she said finally, willing her to realize that she didn't need to be so nervous, and she didn't have to keep babbling about every topic that came into her head. This didn't have to be awkward. "And, I don't care what we watch, I'm just glad you're back."

She trailed the sponge down Santana's stomach and without thinking, began to slowly do the insides of her thighs.

Santana shuddered, and shifted in the chair, trying to hide her arousal.

Brittany looked up, startled by Santana's jerky movements. Realizing what she was doing and where her hands were, she looked up at her, questioning if she should continue.

Santana nodded slightly, then felt the tightness in her lower stomach turn to fear, as she watched Brittany keep going as if this was perfectly normal and okay with her. "I hate this," Santana uttered the words that had been cramped in her mouth for some time.

Brittany stilled her movements. "What?"

"This. Being like this. You always make me like this. I hate myself like this," Santana babbled incoherently, rocking forward slightly.

"What?" Brittany asked again in a slightly higher pitch, trying not to let the hurt show on her face.

"Being weak. Being vulnerable. It's like that song you were singing to me the other day. I feel like I'm an ice sculpture and you're there at my feet making me warm, and making my tears rain down on you. It's kind of pathetic," Santana said, self loathing darkening her features. "And here you are doing all this for me, and it makes me even more pathetic and I can't stand it."

If she hadn't had such physical constraints, Brittany knew that Santana would have run right there and then. She could see that her whole body was just crawling with that energy she gave off when she needed to get away from something she was feeling.

"Being strong is about being afraid, San," Brittany said, the words only coming to her then.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Brittany you're not about to lie to me are you? You've never lied to me."

"I'm not lying," Brittany insisted, "and I'm not stupid. I know what you're talking about. You think being strong is all about acting like you're fine and that you don't care, and that can take care of yourself, but it's not. Being brave, is all about daring to be vulnerable, and it's not just about letting yourself be sad, it's about letting yourself be happy because that's harder to do than anything, because it gives us something to lose. Having so much to lose makes you vulnerable than ever, sort of like those millionaires that need bodyguards."

"Fucking hell. Okay, what movie is that from," Santana said, poking her playfully.

"No movie," Brittany said, clenching her fists in frustration.

"Then who are you, and what the fuck did you do with Brittany?"

"San! That's mean. I can be smart sometimes too."

Santana sank back in her chair and exhaled slowly. "I know," she said. "I'm sorry okay? You're the smartest person that I know, Britt, and I mean that. I just…-"
I just got scared… about being scared, she thought.

"It's okay," Brittany told her, sitting on the floor and leaning her back up against the chair Santana that was still sitting on. It wasn't easy for Santana to say sorry, so she must have really meant it.

"Sometimes I wish I could be brave, like you," Santana whispered, placing her hands on top of Brittany's head. "You wear your heart on your sleeve and say whatever you're thinking and show everything you're feeling. If this were you, you wouldn't mind me taking care of you like this."

"I'm not brave, San," Brittany told her, "at least not as often as you think."

"Why?" Santana asked. If Brittany was going to turn into one of those girls that constantly downplayed their own achievements instead of just being honest, then she was really going to let her have it.

Brittany was silent for a time, wrestling with her mind, trying to untangle her own thoughts. "I'm not brave, because there are things in me that force me to be vulnerable without me making the choice to be."
"I don't get to choose whether or not I say things, because they seem to just come out whether I want them said or not. It's not just that, I don't know how to control my feelings enough to hide them, or make them look like I'm having different feelings to cover them up. And then, sometimes, when I really want to say something that I think I mean, I can't make the right face, and it turns out that the face I'm making automatically is the one I really meant all along. And then there's all the times that I get kind of sick or pass out, like at Finn's party, do you remember?"
Finn even had to carry me up the stairs to his mom's room that night, Brittany thought. How is that not vulnerable?

Santana nodded, thoughtfully. Okay, she really has a point there, she allowed.

"I wasn't choosing to be brave all those times, because having a kind of disability… or at the very least 'different abilities'... can sometimes force you to be vulnerable," Brittany mumbled.

A tiny gasp died in the back of Santana's throat. The entire time she had known her, Brittany had never once referred to her disorder. It had progressed to the point where Santana had often wondered if she even remembered she had autism at all, let alone if she understood what she was going through. Knowing the extent of her denial, just the acknowledgement was definitely a huge breakthrough.
"Come sit up here," she told Brittany, patting her knees.

"Hmm?" Brittany looked up and saw Santana gesturing. "No I'll hurt you," she said.

"Come here, Britt," Santana repeated.

"Okay," Brittany said softly, rising to share the chair and sit between Santana's legs. It was a tight squeeze, but they fit.

"You were brave just now," Santana murmured to her in a low voice. She pressed a single finger to her nose and bounced off it, leaning forward slightly to kiss the same spot. She winced from the pain of having to raise her arms, but she didn't complain. It was worth it.

"I think I want to stop running away," Brittany said, "I think sometimes about wanting to be open about being different, and maybe even talk about it like it's no big deal. If I could do that, then maybe I would be brave."
And then you might be brave too, she thought. Maybe me being such a coward about who I am is why I can't seem to help you very much.

"I… I… just…-" Santana stammered, and words failing her, she felt Brittany's hand close around hers. She shook her head repeatedly.

Brittany waited for a while, and when Santana couldn't find the words, she tried to help.
"You remember when Buffy died, but then came back alive again in season six, except she came back different to how she'd been before, and everything she touched seemed too hard and bright and violent for her to feel it?" Brittany asked.
And then she kept running away to that vampire, Spike, every night because he made her stop feeling, she thought.

Santana nodded, twisting soft blonde hair in between her fingers.

"I kind of feel like you died too, San. I'm not sure exactly when, or how it happened. But it was like somebody made you feel like the world is always going to suck, so you started running except when you're running, things don't suck but they feel good either, they just kind of feel like running; like you're always tired, like it's hard to take a breath, and like nothing really exists except for the way your feet are pounding the pavement."

Santana arched her body as if she wanted to run or scream or fight her, but then just as suddenly she deflated, going still.

Brittany leaned forward and kissed her nose back.

"I know how you feel because… you remember the day mom told me I was different? You were there, and we were eight years old. You talked to my mom for a while, then you came outside to me, and we talked about unillamas and rainbows because I couldn't deal with what I had just heard. Part of me right then was thinking that I could never be normal, and there will always be something wrong with me, and the rest of me thought that if I could only run fast enough, I might one day outrun it. Except I didn't, it was more like I ran away from me, and now I don't know if I like or if I hate myself, because I can hardly see who I am to judge."

We're more alike than I thought, Santana realized, the idea surprising her. We somehow keep ending up in the same places, though we've taken such different paths.

Brittany paused. "I don't think I know who I am at all, San. I don't know anything about myself. I've run away from myself for too long to know who I am. Sometimes I think just staying still and facing it would have been better, because then it would be over. Running away can go on forever, and it is so tiring."
After all these years I'm kind of just yours and I don't know what else, she thought.

"Oh yeah? Well, I got a boob job," Santana said a hint of humor in her voice.

"So I kind of figured," Brittany almost smiled, but everything in her expression begged to know 'why.'

Santana gave a heavy sigh, seeing the question in Brittany's eyes. "I guess I just wanted to be noticed. I wanted something that set me apart from everyone else, but I also wanted something that everyone noticed, so they didn't notice other things," Santana mumbled. "And most of all, I thought if I changed on the outside then the inside would be sure to follow."

"Running away, hurts right?" Brittany twisted around in the chair and gestured to Santana's chest.

"Like a bitch." Santana leaned her forehead against hers. Her back and her neck were both still killing her, let alone where she'd had the surgery.

"It hurts me too," Brittany told her. She had always believed that being different was okay, because she knew that Santana was different to other people.
It was being different in Brittany's own way that she had questioned time and time again, wondering if she was too stupid to function in the world with the others or deserve good things like Santana. Even now, she was still afraid to explore that, because what if she did explore it, and all she found was that there wasn't a place for a person like her in the world? What if all the people who called her a 'retard' were right and she deserved their sneers? She hadn't wanted to know the answer, yet the question had still plagued her every day. Well, that's definitely one way to run away, she thought.

It was weird, but the more she learned about Santana, the more she learned about herself. She also suspected that the best way she had right now to explain 'who Brittany is' to someone else, might be to explain her relationship with Santana. That was all she had going for her right now, that was all she had of herself.

Both girls were silent for a while.

"Tell me something you're afraid of," Brittany asked her, urging her to open up.

"Well, I was afraid before that you would run off with Quinn," Santana admitted.

"What?!" Brittany tried to keep her voice down, but it still came out as a half-shriek. "Quinn hates me," she laughed.

"I'm pretty sure she likes you."

"But she's not even into girls."

"Oh for fuck's sake, you could turn anyone gay!" Santana half-shouted in exasperation.

They locked eyes for a moment, entire conversations being said without words.

"You said Quinn was pretty," Santana muttered finally, hurt showing all over her face.

Brittany's forehead wrinkled in confusion. When did she even say that?

"I never feel pretty sober, but I especially don't right now," Santana said, looking down at her chest. "This was a bad idea. I knew it from the moment I woke up at the clinic, and then when I heard you say that to Quinn...-" her voice broke off.
"I guess that's kind of why I cried so much before."

A memory popped up in Brittany's mind, of the first time Santana had called her beautiful. They had been alone in this exact same bathroom, but it had been Brittany who had been naked, having just stepped out of the shower after rapping to Super Bass. It seemed like years ago now, but it wasn't. Maybe the difference was that because Brittany had gone through so much since, her mind had aged several years since that day, making her closer to having caught up with people her own age, yet still so far.

She thought back to that day again. It had been a good one, the day just before those first fireworks and their first kiss. It was the same day she had realized that Santana was beautiful too, not that she had ever thought otherwise. It was just she hadn't thought about it much at all before that moment. Funnily enough, she hadn't thought about much else since.

"You're my favorite thing in the whole world to look at, even more than ducks. So you must be the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Brittany told Santana, using exactly the same words she had said on that day, just as she remembered them. She wanted Santana to know that even though things were different now, she still felt the same way, if not more strongly.

Recognition flooded Santana's features. She wanted to cry. She had cried so hard when Brittany had said that to her the first time, and she hadn't even known why. Brittany's words had held so much promise of 'what could be' and it had been the first time Brittany had really talked to her like that. That day had been before she had really started to screw up, before she had failed so badly afterwards, ignoring Brittany for months.

If only that feeling could have lasted forever, she thought wistfully. That feeling that they were headed along the right path, through their perfect road.
"You can't blame me for being afraid to be happy," Santana said suddenly.

"Why?" Brittany asked.

"Because whenever you get too happy, something bad always happens."

Their roles reversed, Brittany pointed out the quote. "Did Charlie Brown say that? You know, the guy with Snoopy the dog from the cartoons?" Brittany was pretty sure she had seen it on a t-shirt.

"Oh, um probably. And it's like you said, when we're happy we've got something to lose. And we're bound to lose it, because all good things always go away in the end. Happiness always ends, it's inevitable. And I have a talent for screwing things up in the worst way possible. It's like Murphy's law, Brittany. If something can go wrong, it will in the end, because I'll cause it to go wrong. I'm kind of like Murphy's bitch."
Santana paused. "I always make the worst decisions, like choosing to mutilate my chest instead of just buying a padded bra. And before long i'll have fucked up again and lost you to Quinn," Santana said, the words slipping out.

"I'll… I'll buy you some lucky panties," Brittany offered, stammering, trying to process all of Santana was saying and finding it hard. Santana was a complicated person. Her own lucky panties had never failed her, they had rainbows on them and little smiley faces, so maybe that would help.

Santana shrugged her shoulders, and for a while they sat in a comfortable silence, though the vibe Santana was giving off seemed intense and moody.

Thinking it over and realizing with a start what Santana was still upset about, Brittany reached out to her, cuddling her as best she could without hurting her. "You don't have to worry about Quinn, honey," Brittany soothed.

Santana pulled herself out of her funk and chanced a look at her. "Or the British girl from BreadStix?" she asked timidly.

Brittany shook her head adamantly. "Not her either," she said.

Santana relaxed slightly and Brittany stroked her still slightly damp hair.

"I don't know who this Murphy guy is who gets to be 'the law,' but I'm gonna name him Ryan," Brittany decided.

"Ryan Murphy?" Santana said quizzically.

"Yeah!" Brittany grinned. "He needs a dumb sounding name."

"Why?"

"Because if he's controlling all the bad stuff that's happening to you and me, I don't really like him very much."

"Me neither," Santana agreed wholeheartedly.

Brittany paused. "You know what San? You said that you thought that maybe if you changed on the outside, then your insides would be sure to follow, right?"

"Yeah, " Santana agreed. "I figured if people started looking at me differently, then maybe that new person that they saw might stick and become me."

"I don't think that's right. I think change starts with us. Change starts on the inside with how we see ourselves, and then the rest of the world just follows."

Santana shrugged.

"And I hope Ryan Murphy's law is the same, and it all comes down to us. Maybe if we make our own laws and ignore him, then the good thing will always come to us, instead of always the bad thing. Aren't you tired of waiting on Ryan to tell you what to do?" Brittany asked her, sounding vaguely like she was rounding up a party of rebels to fight against some cause.

"Brittany, ever the optimist," Santana said, affectionately, allowing herself one moment to dream with her.
Santana, ever the pessimist, she thought, catching sight of herself in the bathroom mirror.

Brittany stood up and did a graceful curtsey as if Santana had bestowed onto her a great compliment.

Santana paused. "About the good thing always being sure to happen, we'll call that Brittany's Law then?" she said suddenly.

Brittany could only smile. "I sound kind of like a president," she said happily. "I AM the law," she said doing her best impression of one of Buffy's famous speeches, neck vein popping out and all.

Santana's gaze turned serious. "You should be president. Enough of that being-the-treasurer business. You be president of your Unicorn Club now," she told her. Brittany was always so reluctant to accept responsibilities, even those of a ficticious club, Santana thought.

Brittany surprised her, placing her hand to her forehead and bouncing off it, saluting Santana with her best unicorn horn salute.

Things have changed, Brittany thought, ignoring the characters on the screen doing the teen mating dance. They were a couple seasons into The OC now. This show wasn't really about Princess Sparkles and Captain Oats, it was actually about people, and it was sort of interesting, but Brittany had something going on inches from her that was more interesting still.

Brittany couldn't put her finger on the subtle change in the girl lying propped up on pillows beside her in their pillow fort, eyes glued to the screen, but it was there. The next time that Brittany had helped her wash her hair, Santana hadn't said a word and had seemed more open to the idea. She also hadn't fought her since on taking pain pills, and had even let Brittany feed her in the days it still hurt for her to raise her arms.

Maybe Santana finally felt safe, feeling reassured when Brittany hadn't left her during her hour of hysterical tears. Brittany was glad that she hadn't left even when Santana had told her to go away. Maybe Santana was comforted by the fact that nothing bad had come out of her being at her worst in that moment. Nothing bad had come out of Brittany helping her shower either. They had survived, and maybe she was a little less scared of Brittany's rejection now, and a little less defensive.

"I want to name them," Brittany whispered to her when the sun went down on the seventh day. Neither of them wanted to get up to turn on the light.

"Hmm…," Santana asked sleepily, training her gaze upwards. Brittany had eventually draped a sheet over the top of their pillow fort, saying the sight of the stars were too bright.

"Your new boobs, I want to know what to call them," Brittany insisted.

"Okay," Santana said shuffling closer to her. "Name away."

"How about Katy and Perry," Brittany suggested playfully.

Santana grimaced. "Nope."

"Oats and Sparkles?"

Santana burst out laughing. "I'll actually consider that one," she said.

"Tom and Jerry?"

Santana shook her head from side to side.

"Mmm yeah, you're right, we don't want your boobs constantly in mutiny with each other… how about Statler and Waldorf?"

"Britt, are you nuts? That's not sexy at all."

"Um okay, so how about Superbia and Invidia… or…-"

"Woah, woah slow down. What language is that?"

"Count Chocula."

"Britts, that's a cereal, not a language."

"It was on the box," Brittany insisted. "It means Pride and Envy."

"It sounds like it's in Latin," Santana mused. "Okay then."

It seemed fitting to call them that, because pride and envy were the main two reasons Santana had got them done and Brittany had once again managed to accidentally hit the nail on the head.

Brittany clapped her hands, gleefully. "Sue and Vidia!" she told her, pointing.

"Ugh, why does my left boob have to be Sue," Santana groaned. "Speaking of, Coach Sue really is going to kill me."

"I'll protect you," Brittany promised, pulling out her glow and the dark pens and writing the names on Santana's body in the midst of all the text that was already there. She'd had the bandages taken off now, but they still had to be careful. Santana's boobs was still swollen but not quite as bad as they had been. They still didn't look real, they stuck straight out and were hard. Santana cried sometimes in the night, because she still thought that she looked like a freak, so Brittany would get out her pens again and write more things. She thought Santana looked cute with arrows and diagrams all over her stating just how beautiful she was, but you had to shine a black light pen first before you could see.

Brittany leaned over to her and traced the word 'perfect' on her shoulder. She knew where it was without the light. Santana had protested against it immediately as soon as she had written it, telling her not to lie, until Brittany had reminded her that she still couldn't say things that weren't true. Santana was fine when Brittany wrote all over her ribs and her elbows labeling her inside parts as well, but had protested more than ever when Brittany labeled her heart, insisting that she didn't have one. Brittany had grinned and had drawn hearts all over her body, saying she had so much heart there was some in her knees, her hand, her elbows and everywhere else she could reach.

Santana had told her she was silly, but Brittany didn't mind, because she had smiled, and Brittany had seen it even though they were in the dark.

Brittany was in the kitchen washing up. She'd done a bit better than defrosting fishsticks tonight and had managed to figure out how to make soup and a grilled cheese sandwich all by herself, without even causing any kitchen disasters. She grinned at the plates, feeling very much like a housewife, and resisted the urge to do a victory dance.

Today had been their eighth day of living together and they had been forced to go to school, as it was the first day of senior year, and they wanted to claim lockers next to each other, before they were all taken. The prom committee, led by one Quinn Fabray, had already taken over the entire building with pictures of the moon and the stars for their prom theme 'Reach for the stars.' According to the flyers, Prom was being held early, because it proved to be too much of a distraction during final exams when it was usually held. Santana didn't care much either way, and had rolled her eyes, but Brittany was into it, rushing up and down the halls to look at all the decorations.

"San! These are awesome! Look they kind of glow like you."

Santana was just hoping that there wasn't a chance in hell that someone would randomly have a black light and shine it on her, because all her secrets and then some were still there in invisible ink.

"That's great Britt."

"I've always dreamed of going to Prom," Brittany told her, "like a normal girl." She halted her steps, running her fingers over a glitter poster.
"Is that stupid," she asked Santana anxiously?

What Brittany had said had hit Santana a little bit too close to home, so she could only shake her head. She pulled out a nail file and tried to look busy when she saw cameras coming up to them, making a pit stop to interview Quinn first. It looked like yet another one of Jacob Ben Israel's stupid documentaries.
"I should probably find Puck," she said to Brittany breaking the spell.

Slowly becoming aware of the crowd, Brittany bit back more comments about prom and watched Jacob interview Quinn, who had the exclusive report on hormones. Maybe that was why Santana said Quinn was acting strangely towards her lately?

"How was YOUR summer," Jacob Ben Israel said, thrusting the microphone at Santana's boobs.

"My eyes are up here, Jew Fro," Santana retorted, glaring at him.

Sue and Vidia ain't available for comment, Brittany thought.

"And it was uneventful," Santana continued, looking at the nail file in her hands, clearly not wanting the attention on her right now.

Brittany could see a tiny bead of sweat forming at her temple, and knew that the last thing Santana wanted right now was to be confronted about her boobs. It was too soon, and she was still too sore. Maybe her body didn't hurt as bad anymore, but her pride was still raw. 'Superbia' still couldn't really bounce around like a normal boob yet, and that seemed to upset Santana quite a lot.

She stepped in, willing the cameras to move from Santana over to her.
"People thought I went on vacation, but actually I spent the summer lost in the sewers," she announced.

Quinn gave her an incredulous look, but Santana gave her a grateful smile.

Santana caught Brittany sneaky little smile back, and laughed on the inside. She hadn't witnessed Brittany's lapses in reality done for effect yet, so this was new. When she was younger Brittany had definitely been completely serious about her crazy tales, but maybe now they were fast becoming her style of humor.

"Yes, I wrestled alligators and I met their king," Brittany said, continuing the interview, her eyes staring off into the distance and becoming unfocused. "But the best part was that I met the Ninja Turtles and found their hideout. I promised to send pizza long distance down the toilet to them every Friday."

A bubble of laughter burst through Santana's throat. Seeing the two were obviously sharing something personal, Quinn stormed off. As soon as the cameras were gone, Brittany winked at her in an over-exaggerated manner.

"You know, Jacob Ben Israel's head kind of looks like a porn movie from the seventies," Brittany told her. "You know, before they thought of hair removal down there and stuff. With some sneaky camera work, he could be like a ninja, 'cause in every scene you'd never know if he was there going down on someone, or if the lady was just standing there butt naked."

Santana could only laugh harder. She hadn't been sure that Brittany had really listened to all her sex education rants, but clearly she had, and Santana had taught her well. "That was your first dirty joke, Britt," she said proudly.

It had been a good day, even if she hadn't seen Santana much after that, Brittany thought coming back to the present and puffing air at the soap bubbles on her hands, watching some come off and float down slowly. She felt Santana's presence in the doorway, and tried to play it cool, and not be smiling at the soapy dishes like they were a winning lottery ticket.

Santana came up behind her. "Are you coming to bed soon?" she asked, and Brittany's heart stopped. This felt strangely perfect, this playing at domestic life with Santana, acting like they did this all the time. Brittany felt a feeling that she couldn't name grow in her chest, and catch in her throat, making her unable to answer.

"I'll help," Santana told her, leaning her forehead against her shoulder, pointing at the dishes.

"No," Brittany shook her head. "You're still sore, and I'm nearly done anyway." She washed the foam off her hands.

"Okay," Santana agreed. "Well I'm waiting for you," she told her, nuzzling her head against her shoulder and leaving the room.

Brittany paused for a moment, watching her go and then looked at the clock. It was 9:42pm on a Monday and she was seventeen years old.

She moved over to the window, seeing the rain beat down hard outside, raindrops spraying against the window and racing each other down the glass.

"Slow down," she told them, seeing two side by side, one going at a slightly faster pace than the other, but it seemed they only trickled down faster.

"Slow down raindrops, and slow down life," she told the world, hearing Santana's voice echo in her head.

"Well I'm waiting for you."

What just happened seemed so irrelevant and so important all at once, and if she was playing one of Kurt's video games, she would totally hit the save point right now, so if she messed the next part up, she could always come back here, to this moment and play again, to the moment where Santana was waiting for her in their bedroom fortress.

"Game saved," she whispered to herself wishing it were true, before tailing Santana back to their fort. Checkpoint.

Fifteen minutes later, Santana had ditched the pillows Brittany offered her, in favor of lying on Brittany instead. Brittany's chest was still soft and perfect, and all kinds of comfortable.

Brittany was tired, it had been a long week, though definitely a wonderful one. Her eyes kept fluttering closed and she had to keep forcing them awake. She didn't really want to sleep. This was probably their last night here, and she didn't want to waste it.

"I've always loved the way you say my name," Santana said suddenly. "When you used to not talk for a while, my name was usually the first thing you'd say again."

"San-tan-a," Brittany said, drawing each syllable out. Santana's head, still resting on her chest, rose and fell with each breath she took.

"Not like that," Santana laughed softly.

"Santana," Brittany said, angling her head to look into her eyes.

"Yeah," Santana said, shifting, to slowly sit up.

"You say it like… my name is safe in your mouth or something. It makes me feel…," Santana trailed off like she was surprised at herself for talking that way.

"Can I kiss you?" Brittany asked.

"Yes," Santana breathed out slowly, and Brittany suspended herself above her, leaning on her hands, some of her hair falling down to tickle Santana's face.

Brittany felt like a Lion Cub as she pinned Santana's legs down, making sure to avoid her chest. She wasn't actually restraining her, Santana could have pushed her off with one hand, but that was the last thing on the other girl's mind.

"Can I keep you?" Brittany asked, possessively, pretending she had a mane like Santana's to go with the lion fantasy. It was a question that she had asked many times before, but she had not yet received an answer, and she no longer waited for one.
She leaned down and kissed her, transforming into a grown up lioness as she worked her tongue into Santana's mouth, and felt Santana begin to rock into her slowly, her body molding itself into hers.

Santana didn't answer the question, but instead began rocking into her harder, forcing Brittany's head even closer to hers and kissing her almost roughly.

"Grrr," Brittany growled, smiling around Santana's mouth and kissing her back harder. She took Santana's bottom lip in between her own, and felt Santana's hands come up and scratch her shoulders. She was drawing blood, but neither of them noticed, they were too involved in each other, and apart from the faint glow of the TV there wasn't much light.

"What's this called," Brittany asked, feeling Santana's stomach shudder underneath hers, as they came together in the middle. Brittany liked that she could feel all of Santana's body right now. She liked being this close.

"Scissoring," Santana whispered back.

"It's my new favorite thing," Brittany informed her.

"Shhhh, there's a lot of talking and I wants to get my mack on," Santana said into her mouth, now grinding against her, moving in small circles.

Brittany felt like they were almost-kind-of dancing, and she was following Santana's lead. She grasped at her and tried to keep up.

Feeling something build in her that wasn't at all the feeling she was looking for, Santana raked her nails underneath Brittany's shirt, feeling a sticky fluid begin to coat her finger. Brittany yelped and nearly collapsed on her hands, just managing to keep herself upright in time.

"Fuck," Santana swore. "I didn't hurt you, did I Britt?"

"No," Brittany insisted, seeing Santana had gone all stiff. She nuzzled her cheek, trying to melt her again so they could keep going. It did kind of hurt, but it wasn't that bad and she didn't mind that her lioness had claws.

"No there's definitely blood. Let me see." Santana gently pushed Brittany off and fumbled around for the black light nearby. "Show me," she ordered.

"Okay," Brittany said pulling off her shirt, and turning around, as Santana hit the tiny switch and pointed the flash at her.

Santana swore again. "I made you bleed. Shit shit shit."

"I'm okay San." Brittany thought back to all the guys on the football team who had been given those marks and decided to treat it as a rite of passage. "It's kind of what you do with everyone, right?"

"Yeah, but not with you," Santana told her, rubbing Brittany's back, fingering around the marks gently as if she were in a trance.

"Oh," Brittany sighed, sadly. She wanted to be part of everything, even if it hurt sometimes, but maybe she wasn't good enough.

"Britt, I feel like the angry part of me scratches other people in times like this. Like it comes from the cold part of me. I've always called her Snix. I don't want to be like this with you, any more than I want to have sex with you while I'm like Super-Santana on E."

Brittany shrugged. She didn't know what 'E' was. It could be anything, but she guessed it was a drug.

"I just want to be a normal girl sometimes, you know? Is that stupid?" Santana said pressing a kiss to her back, not realizing that she was saying almost the same thing as Brittany had said to her earlier in the day.

"No…," Brittany told her thinking of prom. "No I don't think it's stupid at all."

"Oh! Sweet lady kisses," Brittany mumbled softly into Santana's cheek. I'm like my own kind of junkie for this, she thought.

Santana was kissing up and down her neck and Brittany clutched her tightly, trying to keep her there as long as possible. Having Santana so close over the summer and then having to go back to normal life had been so hard, and Brittany felt like an addict needing a fix every time Santana promised to come over. Puck was hooking up with someone else again, and that meant Santana was back, sneaking into her room, even though it was late.

"My teeth hurt," Brittany whined. That singing dentist drug lord had pulled them all out.

"He didn't pull them all out, Britt," Santana comforted her, "he just filled all the tiny holes in… and unfortunately you had more holes than teeth."

"Unnnghh," Brittany said, mostly because Santana was now kissing around her jaw in the spots where her fillings were.

"All better?" Santana asked. Brittany only smiled and pointed to one spot she had missed. She thought it was super nice of Santana to think of her pain, when she knew the other girl was still hurting too.

Santana had almost completely recovered from her surgery, although she still complained of neck and back pain, and still needed to massage her breasts at least once a day. The doctor said it was to soften them, and get them falling right and looking more natural.

"Does Invidia need a massage?" Brittany asked. In the end, Santana's right boob had been the slowest one to heal, and it had given her way more grief than Sue on the left. Ironically, Santana's left boob was the only 'Sue' who was calm. Coach Sue herself had given Santana more grief than either of them had thought possible. She had crucified her, giving all of Santana's privileges to a very self-satisfied Quinn Fabray.

Santana nodded shyly. "Yeah," she said, "and Santana does too. My back is killing me again."

"Aww…," Brittany sympathized, realizing that it probably hurt Santana to be leaning over her like this right now. "You lie down. I'll do Invidia first. I've got cold hands though."

"I don't mind," Santana told her laying down on her back. "It never hurts when you do it, but it hurts every time when I try."

Brittany hovered her hand over her chest for a few seconds, then pressed her fingers under and over, and then squeezed a little like the instruction booklet from the clinic had told them to do. Santana shivered pleasurably under her touch, watching Brittany's hands.

"Is this okay?" Brittany asked concerned when she shivered. Her hands were really cold.

"Yeah, that's good," Santana said, her voice coming out lower than it usually did. She let Brittany sit her up and felt the other girl begin massaging her back, her long fingers working their way into all of the sore and tight spots.

"Ow!" Santana exclaimed, when Brittany's thumb found one of the worst knots in her back.

"Oh, how did that happen?" Brittany said softly, feeling it.

"I don't know," Santana said relaxing into Brittany's touch as she worked away at the knot, smoothing her palm over the area. "These things are heavy," she muttered looking down.

Without being told, Brittany's hands went up higher and started rubbing at her neck as if she already knew it hurt there too. When she finally stopped, Santana lay back in her arms, and Brittany's hands came around to rest at her stomach. Both their legs dangled off the edge of Brittany's bed.

"I never said thank you," Santana said, playing with Brittany's fingers and rubbing her knuckles against the back of her hand. She knew Brittany liked that.
"I meant to say thank you for looking after me before, even though I made it so hard," she said, leaning back into her.

Brittany traced some of the hearts she had drawn on Santana's body. The ink had long since washed off now, but her mind could see them all the same.
"It's okay," she said, turning Santana around to face her so they could pretend to be two Koalas. Nobody could cling like a Koala. She knew Santana kind of liked it when she faced her and sat in the space between her legs, wrapping both her own legs and arms around her waist. It was like twice as much cuddling, and it usually made Santana laugh.
This time it didn't. In the moment, the position only made them both look like two scared teenage girls, which is perhaps exactly what they really were.

I want to give you something, was all Santana had time to think, before something else unexpectedly took over her, like a switch that had just been flicked on. Santana felt like they were two magnets, both trying to get impossibly closer. Having Brittany this close to her did things that she couldn't explain and didn't want to acknowledge. All she could do was give in.

Brittany had no idea how the next part happened, but just like gravity they were suddenly touching each other quickly and hurriedly as if they were the raindrops on the window racing each other, then joining up as one to race faster.

The light was still on, and Brittany's eyes were impossibly huge when Santana took the last of her clothes off. We'regoingtohavesex. We'regoingtohavesex! I hope I still remember how to do the finger thing, her mind thought, tumbling all over itself. I'm going to fix it, she thought, ever optimistic. It's going to be better than last time.

Santana was glancing at her as if to make sure this was okay, and Brittany could only nod. In this moment, she couldn't be more sure that this was okay.

Santana made a small gesture as if she wanted to be the one to do it this time. Her hands came close to pulling at Brittany's clothes, then fell back at her sides, shaking her head. She just couldn't. She wanted to touch Brittany, but she just couldn't. Her hands trembled with want and regrets.

Another love I would abuse,
No circumstances could excuse.

She lay back hesitantly, and Brittany moved in front of her with sudden confidence. She couldn't reach Santana's mouth so she bent her head down and kissed her hip bone. She paused and bit her lip, then slid her index finger inside her easily, placing several more kisses to her stomach as she slowly worked her finger in and out.

Santana arched her back, then gasped as as if she was surprised at her own sudden involuntary movement.

Brittany couldn't help but stare. That had to be the first step to this dance, she thought. Enthused, she kept going, quicker, feeling Santana's muscles tighten.

"Britt," Santana choked out.

Brittany froze, her mind running wild. She was immediately afraid she'd done it wrong and hurt her, or she was going to cry again and need her to stop.

Santana spared a fleeting glance to the TV where Cruel Intentions was softly playing in the background. "You remember… you remember where Sebastian said he wanted to kiss Cecile?" she said barely audibly, in the heat of the moment daring to say what she wanted, yet somehow emphasizing the words to indicate that it was mostly the giver that the kiss was for, not the reciever.

Brittany nodded. He had wanted to kiss her down… oh, her mind slammed with the realization.

Brittany was filled with curiosity, and she wasn't fooled. Santana wanted this.

Every me, and every you.

She leaned down, slowly bringing her face closer. I love you Santana. I love you, Brittany thought, trying to transmit all her feelings to her.

Santana trembled more and more the closer Brittany came to her center, gripping her shoulders and holding on for dear life. She was clenching and unclenching her hands around different parts of her wildly, yet without the violence of the time she had scratched up Brittany's back.

Brittany kissed her once, then scooted closer and kissed her again, her tongue clumsily finding its way to its target. She flicked it in and out like a lizard's twice, gasping herself at the effect it was having on Santana. The muscles in the other girl's legs seemed to have collapsed. Brittany felt buried in this position, like she might disappear in her. She inhaled her scent, feeling as if they had just opened up another door and she'd found another piece of her to memorize. She wouldn't mind staying here longer, encasing herself in all that was Santana. She tasted both salty and sweet all at once, kind of like the ocean, after heavy rain.

If it rained sugar water, Brittany thought, looking at her dark center up close and then raising her head upwards, her eyes not missing Santana's scars

My body's broken, yours is bent.

I love you Santana, Brittany thought, looking up at her, even though she was looking away. I love you more than anything in the world.
She paused, then slid her finger in one last time. Santana's body was hot and wet, kind of like touching summer.

"Brittany," Santana uttered, breathily, and all Brittany could think about was that she understood what she meant now, when Santana said her name, if felt like her name and all she was, was safe inside her. Brittany pushed her finger in further, placing her other hand on Santana's stomach, feeling it cave in almost immediately.

Instead of stressed, I lie here charmed.

Santana breath hitched and she cried out, reeling and arching her back one more time, as her arms then collapsed on themselves. Santana reminded Brittany of pictures of worlds crumbling down, and as she felt Santana tighten around her finger, then start to fall, Brittany pulled out and reached for her and held her still. She looked into her eyes trying to tell if she was okay, and felt Santana's hands come through her hair, messing it up before slamming her eyes closed as a wave of something hit her. Brittany pulled her close locking her arms around her as Santana wrapped her legs around her hips, mirroring the same position they had started in, desperately clutching at her, riding out the aftershocks. "It's okay," Brittany told her, not really sure exactly what this was, or what she was reassuring her of, but wanting to comfort her all the same. "It's okay San, I've got you."

For a moment, both of them just breathed. Santana's breath came out noisy and raspy almost like she was breathing out notes, but Brittany was shocked and soundless. Santana was clammy in her arms, and Brittany held on tight, pressing her cheek to her shoulder.

Like the naked leads the blind.

"I work," Santana uttered, rising and falling over the words. "I didn't think… I didn't think I could do this without… I mean I didn't take anything before we started. I never thought I'd get anywhere."
I thought I was going to have to pretend for her, so she doesn't think that sex is bad. I was going to do it for her, then it happened. It happened, Santana thought, the ties in her mind having all come undone.

Brittany eased back. She rubbed Santana's legs, and a lazy smile suddenly appeared on the other girl's face, accompanied by a sudden expression of peace that Brittany had never seen on her before.

Every me and every you.

You danced with me, Brittany thought, joyfully wrapping her arms around her neck. You did. You did.

"Santana," Brittany whispered into her neck, "come to prom with me."
All Brittany could see was Santana in a beautiful red dress dancing with her. And then, she saw her in a white one too.

Something borrowed, something blue.

Santana inhaled sharply and immediately stiffened in her arms, then shakily turned herself around on the bed. Immediately a desolate sense of grief filled the room, and a wave of it shook Brittany like another kind of aftershock altogether.

"We-we didn't just do this because I'm in love with you and want to make love and lady babies and dance with you at our prom," Santana stammered. "I'm only here because Puck has been in the slammer for like 12 hours, and I'm like a lizard…"

Regressing under the weight of her emotions, Brittany looked at her suddenly hopeful. A whiptail lizard? A lizard with a magic tongue that she could use on me? she thought.

"I need something warm beneath me or I can't digest my food," Santana finished, needing to crush the last shred of hope she could see in the other girl's face.

Brittany shook her head, refusing to believe her. She knew better. She always saw through Santana now, and knew that this was her walls talking, and that she didn't mean it.

Brittany watched her gaze flicker from left to right looking for the nearest escape. She knew what always came of Santana running away. She didn't want her to go, but most of all she couldn't let her run off thinking she was a bad person when she was just so scared. That would bring them right back down again.

She knew Santana was frightened by what she had just felt, and was doing what she thought had to be done to not to break down again, and lose herself entirely.

That was what hurt Brittany the most, not the words, but that Santana didn't trust her to catch her yet. She thought of all the progress they had made together, the bittersweet memories of cuddling at night in sad desperate moments sheltered by an unbreakable fort, while Santana cycled through moods that only months ago would have been enough to push Brittany away.
It hurt that these moments of trying so hard to protect Santana and make her feel safe, were still not enough for her to drop her guard and let Brittany hold her through the terrifying times of feeling good.
It felt as if a hollow pit had opened up in her stomach, and was now threatening to swallow her whole.

Realizing the importance of this moment's choices, she closed the space between them and kissed Santana's cheek, feeling salty tears escape her own eyes while Santana's own stayed stoically dry. "I love you, Santana," she forced out, saying it for the first time in a long time out loud.
She started crying harder. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to stop, feeling as if she had to be the brave one. She had told Santana that she loved her, laying down everything she had yet again, to promise her that she still wasn't a bad person. She wanted Santana to know that she was still safe with her here, even though she had been mean.

Taking Santana's limp hand, Brittany remembered something her Granny used to say when she was little, her own wish for what would become of her Granddaughters life.
"May flowers always line your path, and sunshine light your day. May songbirds serenade you every step along the way. May a rainbow run beside you, in a sky that's always blue. And may happiness fill your heart each day your whole life through."

She recited it in her mind, willing it to give her strength.

Santana was not yet a songbird, she was still confined to the most fragile of egg shells, not yet hatched and capable of singing away her own sorrow.

It won't be like this forever, she promised herself. It won't, it won't. She felt Santana's arms finally come around her, as if she had just woken up and found her lying in the crook of her arm, her face wet with tears. She knew that if the tables were turned and Brittany had been the one to reject her, Santana would never have let her comfort her like this. But, burying her face in her shoulder, she couldn't bring herself to care.

'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life

So, I'm going to attempt to explain what the hell is actually going on here. :P

Santana had no idea it was possible for her to enjoy sex drug free. Doing drugs made her feel smarter, funnier and better looking, and overall so strong… like she didn't need any walls for her own protection… drugs just automatically knocked them down, and it was easier for her to have physical reactions as well, because she didn't have that overwhelming fear that could block her physical reactions.

Drug feelings weren't her real feelings though, so I can now look at a lot of the sex she had with Puck and say that there weren't real feelings involved up til this point, because all drug based ones don't count.
She never ever took drugs to be intimate with me.
I guess she thought she owed me that, but also it kind of proves that all along she wanted sex with me to be about real feelings, with our real sober selves.
Sometimes she at least thought she was being detached and that she was being sexual with me for my sake and not her own... but that wasn't always true. During our intimate moments, she could definitely work herself into a state where she was too fearful and upset to even want to be on this planet, let alone okay enough to enjoy being with me, but there were alsomoments where we were definitely not just being intimate for my sake.

It was so hard, because it was like she'd realize she was enjoying it, then she'd freeze up in panic and denial, scared that:

(a)she was gay and this was a real thing, and that people would find out and judge her.
(b) she was scared to be happy about it because she was certain that it could only end with her fucking it all up (like she said - Murphy's bitch) and also with her fucking me up in the process.
(c) she was also scared she was incapable of being happy like a normal person, and was therefore not good enough for me (this one always came with self loathing, which didn't help her feel very sexy.)

Option (a) usually ended in her making it about me, saying we were only kissing 'for me.'
Option (b) and (c) usually led to her running away because I was 'better off without her', but she grew to realize that running away didn't help much or make things better, which brought her back to redoubling her efforts and making it 'all about me' in a genuine attempt to try to make me happy, even if she was not.

She didn't realize that either way she went about it, it was still obvious she loved me. If she wanted to kiss me for her own sake, she loved me. If she wanted to kiss me for my sake, that still shows dedication and love for me.
I had only sort of figured that out back then. This was all so confusing that it was easy to question whether she really loved me and spiral into self doubt at times.

Of course my "Santana" never said 'I'm like a lizard' but I used that line from Glee because what she did say was similar and still about her trivializing our relationship and brushing me off, which she did when she was particularly scared by Option (a). In this case, having great sex made 'us' suddenly an incredibly real thing, perhaps the only real thing in her life, and that terrified her, and she had to downplay it. If she let it into her heart, then she would have so much to lose, and in her mind, there were no happy endings of not losing things. Plus, I mentioned prom, so that made it as real as it could ever possibly get.
She then stayed with me and hugged me while I cried all over her, instead of rushing off and leaving me, because of Option (b) conflicted with Option (a).
She needed to trivialize the relationship and storm off for Option (a), but she took the softer option and hugged me instead because of Option (b) - not wanting to completely 'fuck me up' (in her words) was important too.
And honestly, let's face it, how she behaved in the end scene was definitely the soft option for her; she easily could have used things she knew against me and let fly with dozens of cruel insults and yelled at me in order to brush me off, so what happened was harsh but still not as harsh as it could have been.

I think when Santana-on-the-show said 'I'm like a lizard' she was just as sad and tormented as I just wrote her in this scene, except we didn't see it.

And yeah, I know the last scene is painful to read and I'm sorry for that… I actually had to make all kinds of threats to myself to sit down and write it, because I flat out refused for ages because it was just too hard. Brittany tries to be strong in that scene, but she was more hurt than she realized. I'll get to that.

^I wrote this explanation mostly because for a while Brittany's emotions are going to get a bit more of a focus over Santana's in the next chapter(s), so I wanted to end this chapter by laying out what we know about Santana, as like a checkpoint. Brittany has no idea in this part of the story what she wants other than that she wants Santana. That's not all that healthy.

Oh, and 'may flowers always line your path etc' is an actual saying, I think it's initially Irish, but I'm not sure.

3 things:

1. "Fall at your feet" is an Australian (or NZ?) song, thanks to Kurt's enormous rare music collection. It seems like forever ago he played me that song for the first time. I found a guy with Asperger's singing it (I'm a bit of a fan of him now), so I thought it seemed appropriate. I sing it in a higher key.
/watch?v=TeXCkMZ-rRk&feature=plcp

2. Songs used at the end are Every you, every me by Placebo
/watch?v=ScpRLLDBUkc

And a line of Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve
/watch?v=jUIPk2ljZv4&feature=plcp

It's so weird listening to the above two songs again. I haven't heard them or watched Cruel Intentions since that night. It's like being in a time capsule. Santana really loved that movie, and I think she liked watching it with me mostly because I would show an interest all on my own and ask her questions about adult things and she'd relate it back to our lives. Some mature movies she put on just went over my head, but that one really didn't.
She often started our phone conversations with 'fuck her yet' and I swear it was just to hear me say the words 'blow me.' :P I haven't actually watched Buffy since those days either and it's weird bringing that back as well.

I guess I should also say here, that in spite of the fact that I had memorized Santana enough to see through her and know when her meanness was because she was scared, that doesn't mean I can do it with other people at all. I grew with her in that way, but I'm not able to read minds and see through anyone else.

Also, I have actually never named any other boobs, just hers.

3. Don't worry about Quinn… I only talked about her weird vibes towards me to show Santana's jealousy issues, because really they were quite intense. I may or may not talk more about that later.

I can't really comment on anything else… I'm not entirely sure how I convinced myself to write all that in the first place, but now that it is done, I hope I conveyed it right.

Also, I'm not doing a hiatus, I'll just keep going and keep doing my own thing like I always do, even though the timing with Glee might not be that great.

Lots of love to you unicorns, Happy Halloween, and I hope everyone is okay and safe from Hurricane Sandy.