Anonymous asked: 12. "Please don't do this."


Santana's aunt wakes up the next morning, and Santana's mom is there when she does. Santana cries with relief when she gets the phone call that, aside from a broken leg and a nasty concussion, her aunt will be just fine, because emotions are hard for her sometimes and Brittany hugs her through it so she finds she doesn't care that much.

Brittany is amazing, and really, really pretty, and a genius, and her best friend, and she's maybe just the tinniest bit in love with her. She tries to hide it, but based on the third degree Mercedes gave her yesterday on the way to Lima, she isn't doing a great job of it; apparently lighting up whenever Brittany walks in a room and touching her constantly and staring at her longingly and cuddling with her all the time means that Santana isn't the most subtle person.

She calls Mercedes after she talks to her mom and explains everything, and Mercedes is more than sympathetic, despite the fact that Santana just stranded her in Lima; instead she insists on coming back to Columbus that day, but Santana assures her that she'll be fine because she's got Brittany, who just left to go get breakfast (which really doesn't do much for convincing Mercedes that she's not totally in love with the blonde dancer, and neither does her flaming cheeks when she remembers how she woke up this morning, curled into Brittany's warm chest, her face partially buried in what are possibly the most comfortable and beautiful boobs on the planet).

Santana lazes around on Brittany's queen bed while she waits, since she's in a single room for once, and texts her mom for a bit. She half-heartedly watches an episode of Say Yes to the Dress while she plays dumb games on her phone. When Brittany's been gone for almost half an hour, Santana decides to take a shower. She spends longer than usual under the hot spray, and when she emerges she smells exactly like Brittany and her stomach swoops a little bit. The mirror's fogged up and, as Santana dries her body, she realizes that she left her suitcase in the rental car and she really doesn't want to put on the clothes she travelled yesterday. Over the faint bathroom fan she can hear someone in the room and she smiles.

She opens the door and steps out in a swirl of steam, catching sight of Brittany's old sneakers kicked off haphazardly beside the front door. The room smells of fresh coffee and breakfast, and Santana's stomach growls eagerly.

She walks further into the room and her greeting earns her a shriek and a jump as Brittany spins on her heel where she's standing by the tiny table in the corner. Brittany recovers quickly and offers her own greeting, one that trails off as she takes Santana in. Brittany's eyes drop to Santana's chest, where her towel is loosely knotted, and linger on the water drops slipping under the towel before they snap back to Santana's eyes with cheeks so red Santana worries they might catch fire (a different, very interested, part of her swells with pride at the hazy look in Brittany's eyes; and that part smirks at Brittany and thoroughly enjoys the way Brittany's blush stretches all the way to her ears).

"You got breakfast," Santana says and her smirk turns into a warm smile when she recognizes the bags on the table.

"You're not dressed," Brittany says dumbly. She blinks quickly and shakes her head, her mouth parting as she realizes what she just said. "I mean, uh, you, um."

Santana fidgets and shrugs, quickly remembering herself. "Uh, I left my stuff in the rental car, so uh."

Brittany chews on her lip and glances at her own suitcase. "You can borrow some of my clothes. It started pouring about five minutes ago and I don't wanna run out in it and get your suitcase wet so."

Santana nods because she doesn't quite trust herself to speak. Wearing Brittany's clothes is something she's done before, and every time it makes Santana's stomach clench in the best way. Brittany paws through her suitcase, emerging with a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants Santana already knows will be too long. Santana murmurs her thanks and retreats to the bathroom, quickly drying off one more time and brushing out her thick hair before stepping into the sweatpants. She has to roll the waist and the hemline, but eventually she gets it to the point where they'll stay on her hips and she won't trip over the legs. She pulls on the hoodie and when she breathes in all she can smell is Brittany; her shampoo and body wash and laundry detergent, and it makes Santana a little lightheaded.

When she emerges from the bathroom, Brittany's eyes are bright and rapt on her, her expression one that Santana's never seen before but is suddenly desperate to see again. "The continental breakfast was pretty sad," Brittany says, and she has to clear her throat before she continues, "so I went and got some elsewhere. I also picked up snacks for a movie day because, after yesterday, you deserve some serious relaxation."

Santana smiles, and Brittany's eyes instantly drop to her lips and dimples like they always do, before they dart back up to catch on Santana's eyes. "Thank you," she says, and emotion chokes her. For the longest time it was just her and her mom and her abuela, and once her abuela disowned her it was just her and her mom and eventually Mercedes that she could trust and rely on or who could cheer her up; at least until she ran headfirst into one Brittany S. Pierce so many months ago.

Brittany shrugs like it doesn't matter even though it means the world to Santana. "I got your favourite," she says softly, and motions Santana to the bed. Santana settles on the right side of the bed, like she always does, and takes the coffee and breakfast sandwich Brittany passes her.

They watch a couple more episodes of Say Yes to the Dress while they eat. Once they finish, they flip through the On Demand movies for almost twenty minutes, looking for something that will hold their attention without being too emotionally demanding. They watch the first part of the movie and snack on the candy Brittany bought, but quickly grow bored and end up teasing each other. Santana's pretty confident in her ability to hold her own with words, but Brittany likes to fight dirty and before she knows it, she's flat on her back with Brittany's hands held threatening above Santana's sides.

"Please don't do this," Santana begs. "I didn't mean it, you don't snore. Not at all! I'm the one who snores! I swear, just please don't!"

Brittany cackles her mock-evil-villain-laugh and immediately starts attacking Santana with her fingers. Santana squirms and shrieks, trying to roll away from her but quickly finds she's caught between Brittany's legs. Brittany drags Santana's hands above her head, holding them in one hand and sitting back on Santana's thighs slightly to hold her still, quickly dancing her hand along Santana's ribs and across her stomach and delighting in the bright, honey-sweet giggles that spill from Santana's lips.

"Stop!" Santana shrieks around her laughter, "Stop and I'll give you the last of the Fuzzy Peaches!"

Brittany giggles at Santana's helpless laughter, pausing in her attack. "Promise?"

Santana nods eagerly. "Pinky swear," she gasps.

Brittany tips her head to the side to think, before grinning down at Santana and nodding her agreement, and it's only at that moment that she realizes the position they're in: Santana pinned below her, her hair a complete mess and her eyes shining darkly, Brittany sitting back on her thigh, holding Santana's hands above her head. She instantly releases Santana's hands and starts to scramble off her, stuttering out a jumbled apology.

She freezes when Santana's hands settle gently on her hips and Santana can tell that Brittany's heart is hammering; she can tell because her own is doing the same thing.

"Britt," she whispers, and the air around them changes, it charges with energy and hope and just a hint of fear. Brittany swallows thickly and chews on her bottom lip. "Can I—" Santana bites her question off, frustrated when the words don't come, and breathes in deeply. "I want— Can I—"

Something in Brittany's eyes changes, something shifts and settles in the bright blue, and Santana feels an echoing tug in her chest. Brittany starts to drop her head towards Santana, slow enough that Santana can stop her if she wants, as if Santana would ever want that.

When Brittany's lips brush hers, Santana swears her heart stops. She feels bright and floaty and steady, like every single second of her life has built towards this moment, and she feels like this is exactly what she was made to do. The buzzing in her head fades and her heartbeat seems to both speed up and fall steady. Brittany's lips are warm and chaste and soft as they press against hers; she tastes of coffee and mint toothpaste and bread and candy and, somewhere below all of that, home. Santana sighs into Brittany's mouth and her hands slowly slide from Brittany's hips to her lower back, scratching lightly at the skin that's been revealed by her hoodie riding up. Brittany bites down gently on Santana's lower lip at the feeling of Santana's fingers on her skin, and Santana's never felt more alive.

When Brittany slowly pulls back, Santana's pretty sure her lips have never been colder at Brittany's absence. "Hi," Brittany whispers.

Santana giggles and can't help it when she tilts her head up for another kiss. "Hi," she whispers back.

"That was," Brittany breathes, but she gets a little lost in Santana's dark eyes and doesn't finish her sentence.

"Yeah," Santana agrees, and the smile that spreads across her face is quickly mirrored by Brittany's. Santana reaches up and cups Brittany's jaw and just keeps smiling at her, awed and a little disbelieving that, after months of falling in love with Brittany, Brittany seems to have been doing in the same because her eyes are warmer and softer than Santana's ever seen them, and that smile that Brittany gives her is one that Santana knows is just for her. Brittany presses her mouth to Santana's again but doesn't stop smiling, and the kiss ends up being more teeth and thin lips than not, but Santana's pretty sure there's never been a better kiss in the history of the world, at least until Brittany kisses her again, and then again, and then again—