She finds her in the girl's bathroom five minutes after she gets there. School's over and the halls are empty, so it can't have been hard for her to follow the echoes of her sobs and the clicking of her heels as they reverberated off of every surface. She somehow manages to hate herself a little more, because all she wanted was to be able to find somewhere where no one would find her, but now somebody has and she hates that it's the person she wants most and least at the same time.
All she wanted was fifteen minutes, twenty tops, just a moment to figure out what the hell she's meant to do now. It would help if she could somehow gather control of herself, if she could stop feeling like every part of her body was beginning to malfunction. She would be grateful if she could breathe before she does anything else, if she could get some oxygen circulating through the blood that pumps wildly through her body. But from the way that it feels like there's a vice around her chest, it feels like her body's giving up and saying no.
"What can I do?" whispers through the air in that tiny voice that reminds Santana how delicate she is. It reminds her how easily she could be broken, how many times Santana has broken her. She doesn't think she can do that again but there's a part of her, not so deep down anymore, that knows she's probably going to. "Tell me how to help."
That thought causes her to do what she does next and she shakes her head adamantly as she paces backwards and forwards.
"Nothing," she chokes out. Her chest throbs with the need to breath. Her voice is hoarse and tired but she still desperately needs to cry. She aches with it because she knows that it's either that or break something. "Just leave me alone."
"Santana..." Hands reach out for her and she shrugs them away. Her heart palpitates with panic and her chest stings with the way each cry rattles through her, each gasp of oxygen she forces into her lungs.
She's rough when she shoves the hand away. She hears knuckles hit the edge of the ceramic and Brittany's little squeak of pain. Her eyes clench tightly together, desperate to apologize, but the tightness in her throat won't let her. It makes no sense that she wants beg Brittany to hold her and scream that the girl leave her alone in the same breath. Nothing really makes any sense, though. Like the ache in her chest, that doesn't really make sense. The way that she feels like she's actually going insane, like her brain is turning to meaningless mush, doesn't either.
"Leave... me... alone," she heaves stubbornly. If she falls apart she doesn't want Brittany to bear witness. Tears track down her cheeks but she's not actually sure if she's crying or if her eyes are just watering from the way that she's struggling for breath. It feels like she's getting strangled, smothered by the possibilities of what comes next. She doesn't feel like it's worth breathing anymore. She's perfectly aware of the fact that the minute she steps into her home tonight the odds of being told to leave are better than the ones of being pitied and told she can stay. "I don't want you here," she gasps, hands shaking against her chest. "I don't need you..."
The way she wheezes, the way her body crumples in on itself every few seconds, ready to give up, says differently. She feels like she's dying and she doesn't dare want to look up into those blue eyes because, the minute she does, she knows she'll start caring about the fact.
She's not ready. Still, after all these months, she's not ready. Mixed in with the fear and the panic and the embarrassment, is this thick guilt that coats her lungs that she still can't even manage to be brave yet. Brittany's never asked anything of her but this, and she still can't do it.
"Santana," Brittany whispers and Santana just gasps for breath in response as she keeps pacing. Brittany's trying not to cry. She can hear the telling wateriness of her voice that Santana's fought tooth and nail to avoid for so many years. "Santana, please... please don't do this."
"Leave!" Santana raises her voice, the first signs of the monster in her chest breaking free. This time, it feels like she can't tame it. "Just... GO!"
Brittany sobs and Santana can't look at her. As much as she wants to, she can't dare look at her. If she looks at her, she'll knows she'll fight. She doesn't know how and what for, but she knows she'll fight. She lurches forward a little and shoves Brittany towards the door by her arm.
It's probably the wrong thing to do because Brittany flinches from it, shocked by the action, and reacts in the only way she knows how by grabbing Santana's hand as it retreats back to cover her heart where it beats thumpthumpthump in her chest. She pulls Santana towards her and it's like pulling on the loose thread of a sweater. Santana feels herself begin to unravel, the insides of her coming apart.
"No!" she shouts, pulling her hand away, "No, no, no, no..." she chants it as her eyes go wide and body begins to hysterically shake. The monster inside her wrestles to be free and all Santana feels is the overwhelming urge to fight now that she's not free to flee from the room. "Don't touch me," she begs as Brittany's grip simply tightens. "Please, don't touch me."
Brittany sobs as Santana whimpers for breath. She's terrified too, but not in the way that Santana is. Santana's terrified for her life, for how much everything's going to change, what she's going to lose, what people will say, how worthless and embarrassed she's going to feel. Brittany's terrified for her. Brittany's terrified because Santana's never let her see her this way. Santana always flees before things get this bad but it's never been this bad. Brittany shouldn't have to see this panic that overcomes her and makes her into a person she doesn't even recognize. She doesn't even know who she is. She doesn't want Brittany to see this person. She doesn't even think it would be right to call herself that.
She's already shaking so hard, so light-headed, that she barely notices the cold when her back hits the bathroom wall. She only notices Brittany's hands grabbing and pushing her because she's trying so hard to push them away. The fight in her leaves a little when Brittany finally manages to take control of her resistance, grabbing her hands and shoving her against the wall before she presses her entire body against Santana, stopping her from lashing out and pushing her away.
"Stop it," Brittany cries against her. "Stop it, just stop it."
She sounds so broken that Santana does; she stops fighting and lets Brittany sandwich her against the wall with her body. She bursts into sobs that crack from her like a whip, echoing around the room. Their hands untangle from each other and Santana grips at the black fabric at the back of Brittany's dress so hard she thinks she might rip it. Brittany softens against her a little, her hands reaches up to Santana's face. With one, she pushes wayward strands of dark hair from the moisture on Santana's face while the other strokes gentle over her cheeks.
It feels like she's breaking and Brittany's holding her together, whispering words her ears can't listen to. She doesn't listen to anything but the worries whirring around her brain until Brittany's cupping both her cheeks and opening crying eyes to look at her until all Santana can see is bright, shining blue through the red.
It's like someone switches her ears back on again but she can still barely hear. Blood rushes through them until she feels like she might black out, but she manages to look away from Brittany's pleading eyes to her quivering lips and make out what she's asking.
"Don't push me away," she begs quietly. "Don't push me away... I waited so long," she whispers. "I waited so long for you."
Santana looks at her, she looks at her so carefully that she's sure she's seeing her for the first time. Her blue eyes ache with pleading and Santana's sure she's never seen her so desperate. She sees what Brittany's truly afraid of so clearly that it's irrefutable. It surges another wave of panic inside of her, of guilt, that Brittany's so afraid to lose her and she just tried pushing her away.
"Please, Santana. Please," she begs, lips trembling. "Please, don't push me away."
Her chest aches for different reasons alongside the other reasons, making it more difficult to breathe. She panics more because she was right; looking at Brittany makes her realize that she might be dying and she doesn't want to. She wants to breathe, she wants to stay with Brittany and she wants the girl to promise her that everything's going to be okay because it's the only way she'll believe it.
Brittany kisses her but it's barely a kiss. It's sloppy, and Santana's gasping for breath too much to reciprocate, but Brittany pulls away from it and rests their foreheads together.
"Please," she begs one last time, and it begs so many other things too, just in one syllable. It begs things like don't leave me and let me help you and Santana's legs buckle under the weight of the others that she can't let herself hear yet.
They slide down the wall and Brittany moves to soften Santana's blow, sinking to her knees and pulling Santana against her. She doesn't have to do anything as Brittany maneuvers her until she's tucked against her body with strong arms wrapped around her. Her limbs tingle with lack of oxygen.
"I can't breathe," she struggles, trying to ignore the relieved sob Brittany gives that she's finally cooperating. She shifts in her arms to tell her she's serious, desperate. Her words make barely any sound at all."Britt, I can't breathe."
Brittany looks at her with sudden wide and worried eyes, watching her as Santana manages to get her fingers to search for the zipper at the side of her dress. She understands her immediately. She reaches for the zipper too, taking Santana's hand away, and struggles to tug it down with one hand. When the fabric gapes open, it feels like someone's untied her from a noose. She clutches at her chest and takes larger, easier breaths now that her lungs aren't smothered by the restrictive fabric of her dress. Brittany just holds her, one arm around her back and the other around her waist.
"I don't know what to do," she gasps.
"Breathe," Brittany instructs, her hand going to rest atop Santana's where it clutches at her heart. "Just breathe."
/
Brittany holds her until her breathing evens out a little but she's so exhausted her eyes are barely able to stay open. She doesn't think she can sleep yet, though. Her mind is wide awake but her body just can't keep up.
She closes her eyes, and rests her forehead against Brittany's shoulder, curled into her with a hand clutched into the front of her dress. Tears still leave her but she thinks they'll stop soon. Brittany just holds her, listens to her for any signs of change, of worry, and keeps her as close as she can so she can't leave.
She doesn't know how long they've been sitting there but Santana feels a little safer with Brittany's mouth against the bridge of her nose, lips muttering words against the skin there.
It takes her a few moments to notice that Brittany isn't talking, but singing. Her heart beats a little harder again when she figures out what song it is.
"You are my sunshine… my only sunshine,"she sings breathlessly, barely holding the tune through tears. "You make me happy," she chokes. "When skies are gray." She pulls Santana in a little tighter, presses a kiss to her forehead. "You'll never know, dear, how much I love you," her voice breaks and she takes a moment as she sobs a few times, sad and desperate tears running onto Santana's cheeks through her lullaby. "Please, don't take..." she shakes her head. "Please, don't take my sunshine away."
/
"Brittany?"
When she hears their voices, she wonders how long they've been there, because she neither heard the door open or close after Brittany came in.
But when she hears Brittany's name and feels arms tighten around her body, she lets herself be brought in impossibly close because she's too exhausted to do anything else.
"We don't need you," she hears Brittany mumble. "We're fine."
"Brittany," another voice says but it's not a question. "Brittany, you can't stay here all night."
Brittany shakes her head and brings her hand up to cover Santana's cheek with her hand, like she's trying to shield her from them. "I don't care," she says softly. "I'll go when she's ready," she shakes her head and presses a kiss to Santana's forehead. It's strong and Santana can feel the silent anger rushing through Brittany's lips. "That's all I ever wanted... for her to be ready and now she won't be because of you."
Santana's skin crawls at the thought of him being in the room.
"Maybe you should leave, Finn," she hears someone say. It sounds like Kurt, maybe Blaine. Santana doesn't really know they all sound so far away.
"No, I want to stay," he says stubbornly. "Britt..."
It's Kurt that speaks next. Santana can tell from the pissed-off shrillness of his voice. "Finn, go home." And, then, more quietly. "I think you've done enough for the moment. Don't make this any worse."
"No," Finn argues and Santana hears footsteps. She curls instinctively tighter into Brittany, hands gripping in her dress. "Santana, are you –"
"Don't speak to her," Brittany says, voice angrier than Santana remembers it ever being. "You don't get to speak to her, right now..."
"Britt – "
"Finn," Someone says warningly.
There's the scuffle of footsteps towards them and then low warning whispers before they retreat back. She hears the door open and slam and Brittany holds her tight again when she jumps a little from the bang. A few seconds after some whispering, she hears the door open and close again and then she hears a few sets of feet shuffling closer.
"Britt," she hears Quinn whisper. "Puck, Mercedes, Kurt and I will help you get her home, okay?"
Brittany shakes her head. "She can't go home. Not yet."
"Okay, okay," Quinn agrees, calming her. She hears the telltale noise of a hand stroking Brittany's back over the fabric of her dress. She also feels a warm hand resting over her forearm. "Then what do you want? Do you want us to help you to get her back to your house or do you have somewhere else you want to go?"
Brittany whispers, "my house," but then she starts crying a little again and Quinn's arms are wrapped around the pair of them, holding them together for a minute, just until Brittany calms down enough to take the weight again.
"I wanted to be strong," she hears Brittany whisper.
Quinn hushes her. "I know you did."
"I love her, Quinn," she admits softly. "More than anything."
Quinn laughs a little then. "I know that, too, sweetie."
"I don't like it when she's scared," she says in response. Santana can tell that Brittany's looking at her because the cool air shifts to dry their tears.
Quinn's hand brushes against Brittany's where it rests on Santana's cheek. "I know you don't," she nods. "Let's get you home."
/
She doesn't know how long it takes. All she knows is that Mercedes and Kurt leave and return a few times and that the room starts to get a bit darker the longer they stay.
Puck must lift her out of Brittany's arms and she feels someone wrap a blanket or a jacket around her. Shelby must have been waiting for them because when she feels herself being carried from the bathroom, they pause outside the door and Santana hears her voice and a hand covering her arm again. She's too tired to lash out at the pity they're all so easily bestowing upon her.
She feels herself being lowered into the backseat of a car, then Brittany scooting in behind her and pulling her head into her lap. She hears talking and the swapping of car keys as they all figure stuff out. Santana doesn't care. All she cares about is Brittany's hand in her hair and on her cheek.
"I love you," she whispers, and reaches her hand tiredly up to her cheek until she can tear Brittany's away and tangle it with hers over her chest.
/
"Why are you home so late?" she hears Brittany's mom say from the doorway when Puck's lifting her from the car again. Then, more quietly. "What's going on?"
She doesn't stop Puck from carrying Santana through the threshold, though. She just holds the door open until all of them are inside.
"Take... take her upstairs, Puck," Brittany says and then Santana doesn't hear anything else as she's lifted up the stairs before finally being settled down onto Brittany's bed.
From there, though, she manages to hear it being explained. Kurt says how his dad called him and told him about the ad. Mercedes tells Brittany's mom how Santana had been in quiet before their mash up. Puck and Quinn do the honors of telling Mrs Pierce how Santana had lost it at Finn after their performance but Brittany doesn't say anything.
Brittany doesn't say anything until the others have left. Santana hears her head for the stairs until her mom calls her name. She waits for the grilling that Brittany's mom's bound to give her but she's left waiting because all she hears is Brittany's mom ask. "Can I get you two anything?" before Brittany's slowly climbing the stairs a few moments later.
Santana wants to turn over when she hears Brittany shut the bedroom door behind her but when she tries to convince her muscles to move they refuse to cooperate. She wonders what's taking so long for Brittany to move or come to her, though. She cracks an eye open and sees her standing there, back pressed against the door watching her.
But then, she's nodding like she's decided what she needs or wants to do and striding across the room until she's sitting in the space beside Santana at the edge of the bed. She runs a hand over Santana's back, over her neck and up to her hair. Gently, she begins to pull Santana's hair out from its ponytail, careful not to disturb her peacefulness. Her fingers comb through the tangles when it's finally loose and that only makes Santana more sleepy. She sighs, appreciatively and moves until her cheek it pressed to Brittany's bare thigh, needing the familiar warmth. She doesn't get it for long, though, because soon after Brittany's pulling at the straps of her dress and tugging them down her shoulders.
"Santana," she whispers softly, lips pressed to her cheek. "Santana, we need to take off your dress." Santana makes a noise of disagreement but Brittany laughs a little and kisses her cheek properly. "Baby, you can't sleep in your dress... or your shoes. C'mon."
She doesn't really do much to help but she helps untangled her arms from her sleeves and doesn't argue when Brittany easily shifts her body to take the dress from her body until she's dressed in nothing but her shoes and her black cotton panties.
She hears Brittany laugh at her for a second, but then she's reaching to take Santana's shoes off and push them off the end of the bed with one hand. She turns quickly back to her and brushes Santana's hair off her shoulders, lets her fingers trace down Santana's spine and into the hollow at the base of her back.
"Do you want a shirt?" Brittany whispers softly, tracing the lines of her. In any other situation, Santana would want her instantly but all it does is make her unbearably sleepy. She shakes her head at Brittany's question. She doesn't think she has the energy. "Covers, then," Brittany says and Santana barely moves as Brittany works the covers from under her to pull them over her.
She doesn't feel the bed dip again for a few moments, but when it does, it's on her other side and Brittany pulls the covers back to slide in beside her. Santana sighs with relief and hums at the feels of Brittany's bare legs running against her own, the feeling of her clean t-shirt stroking against her arm. Brittany's hand weaves it's way under the pillow they're both sharing and Santana turns her body until she's pressed against Brittany as much as she can. Brittany's fingers brush up and down her spine again and lips bury themselves in her hair.
"Go to sleep, baby," Brittany whispers softly and without another word or act of encouragement. Santana does, strangely at peace.
/
The first thing she's aware of is the edge of the bed dipping beside her again but Brittany's still laying next to her. She only knows this because, when she cracks one of her eyes, their faces are so close together they might as well be kissing.
She knows who's sat beside her without even really thinking about it. She closes her eyes again because Brittany's mom's been doing this since they started having sleepovers. She knows she does it for both her kids, every night. She comes and tucks them in and wishes them sweet dreams. Right now, it only serves to remind Santana how lacking her own parents are.
She's a little shocked when Britt's mom reaches over to brush Brittany's face and whispers her name. "Brittany," she whispers carefully. Her hand instantly presses against Santana's back over the covers to make sure her breathing's still even. "Britt, sweetheart."
"Momma?"
"Yeah, it's me," she whispers. "I just wanted to make sure you're both okay. I thought you might come downstairs. I called you for dinner. I didn't realize you were sleeping, too."
The bed shifts as Brittany shifts her head away a little to look at her mother. "I didn't want to leave her," she admits. "Sorry."
"It's okay, Pumpkin," Santana can hear the smile in her voice. "I brought you some snacks up and left them on your desk in case you get hungry a little later."
The room lapses into silence and Santana waits for Brittany's mom to leave. After a few moments, it makes it hard to keep her breathing level, especially when panic rises up her throat again. She squeezes her eyes tighter and waits and wills for her mother to just leave... or at least be kind about it.
"She's going to need you a lot," her mom finally says. Santana's only aware that they're holding hands beneath the pillow when Brittany's grip tightens unexpectedly around her fingers. "Probably a lot more than you think."
Brittany shuffles closer and buries her head in the pillow. "I don't care."
"Brittany..."
"I love her," Brittany says without warning. Santana's breath hitches and she resists the urge to open her eyes. Her fingers hold onto Brittany's though because she knows they're going to be doing this a lot, probably. "Is that okay?" Brittany whispers and Santana doesn't know why Brittany isn't apologizing.
She knows she would be, if it was her. She feels like she should be turning over and apologizing now. She feels like she should be apologizing for being gay, for falling in love with her daughter, for imposing on their home because she's too afraid to go to her own. She feels like she should be apologizing for the hurt she's caused or might cause their daughter because she knows she didn't mean and doesn't want any of it.
Brittany's mom breathes out. "It's wonderful, sweetie."
Hidden beneath the pillow, Brittany's fingers brush her knuckles. "Really?" she asks and Santana can hear the smile in her voice.
"Really, really," her mom says gently. "But... she's going to need you."
"I know," Brittany says again, sadder this time. "I know."
"If things get hard," her mom says. "You need to help her through 'em. No matter how reluctant she is, okay? Some people won't see how great it is that you love each other, but you can't let them get to you, okay? They're not worth your time and you have to tell Santana that."
Santana buries her head further in the pillow to stop herself from crying. When Brittany's mom's hand falls to rest on the back of her head, she wonders if she knows she's awake.
"You need to tell her that the people that say they won't love her anymore because of this aren't worth her time, okay?" her voice sounds shaky and Santana can't handle it. She bites the inside of her lip. "Because, she's fine just the way she is. She doesn't need to feel embarrassed, because she can't change who she is and no one else should try. And, if she needs us for anything, anything... you make her promise to come to us first, okay?"
Brittany nods. "I will, Momma," she whispers. "I promise."
"Okay," Brittany's mom says and she's glad they're both ignoring the fact that she's so obviously crying into the pillow. "Now get some rest, okay?"
She leans over them and Santana feels her as she reaches across to press a kiss to Brittany's forehead. "I love you, Sweet Girl," she whispers to Brittany, waiting for Brittany to say it back. When she does, her mom kisses her again before she leans down and kisses the back of Santana's head. "I love you, too, Santana, okay?" she whispers softly. Santana nods softly and sniffles.
With a "sweet dreams" the door clicks closed and they're alone again.
Brittany's arms are around her instantly, and she holds her as she cries again. She doesn't know how but, somehow, a little while later, she manages to fall back asleep.
/
She doesn't know what time it is when she wake up and she has no idea where her cellphone is to find out. She feels better; still terrified, but better. She feels like she can actually move her body.
She turns her head to the side and finds Brittany, watches her for a moment in the dim light of the lamp on the desk. It feels awful to think that, a few hours ago, she could have lost her. It feels even worse that it would have been because of her own stupid stubbornness and fear. She was so sure she was over that, of pushing Brittany away when things got too hard.
She leans over and kisses Brittany, just because she still can. She presses their lips together as gently as she can and lets her eyes flutter closed at the feel of it. She doesn't tear them away, not until she feels Brittany's eyes flutter at the sensation, and only then does she pull back a little before she leans in again and kisses her harder.
"More," Brittany whispers when she tries to move away. She pulls Santana in, hand skirting up her back from where it's been pressed all along to tangle in the hair at the back of Santana's head. They don't stop until far past the point where a tongue begs for entrance and hands grasp longingly for each other.
"Britt Britt," Santana gasps when Brittany urges her onto her back. One of their hands still remains locked above them under the pillow. Brittany's other hand remains buried in her hair and Santana's holds them as tightly together, pushing at Brittany's shirt up around her chest until she can feel their skin pressed together. Brittany kisses her like she used to before they found other things to do, like she's putting her entire existence into it, telling her things she can't say with words. Her mouth moves precisely, relentlessly until it's the only thing that Santana can think about. She lays open against the mattress and lets Brittany kiss the bad away, sucking over her jaw and licking down her neck until she can nip at her collarbones.
It's too fast and not fast enough at the same time. It shocks her how easily Brittany knows the things she needs before she does herself.
"Britt Britt," she says again, pressing wet, lazy kisses to Brittany's forehead. Brittany pulls away and, for a moment, Santana panics that she thinks she's done the wrong thing, but Brittany just tugs off her shirt until they're both just in panties. Her hand finds Santana's beneath the pillow straight away and her kisses return before Santana can even miss them.
"I need you," Santana whispers, nails digging into Brittany's back. "I need you, Britt Britt."
Brittany moans against her a little, broken and breathless. She kisses her way to Santana's ear, sucks at the spot underneath that makes Santana begin to shake for good reasons. Santana tries not to make too much noise; she's still unaware of what time it is, just that it's dark, and she doesn't want Britt's parents to hear them... especially now that they know.
"How do you need me?" Brittany asks and it would be so damn hot if it didn't make Santana want to cry instead. "I wanna make you feel better."
Santana grips harder at Brittany's back, nudges her nose against her cheek until they're kissing again, lazy and deep in a way she's not sure they have before. Brittany's thumb brushes over her cheek and Santana pulls their hands apart, just so she can cup Brittany's entire face in her hands to keep her there. Brittany mirrors her until their kiss is all mouths and hands and faces, until their bodies are flush against one another and Santana's able to push her onto her back.
"Like this," Santana whispers as she brackets her thighs over Brittany's hips. "Like this."
She doesn't have to say anything else because Brittany knows. Brittany just strokes down her sides, over her hips and pushes at her underwear until Santana can kick them off at her feet.
"C'mere," Brittany whispers and urges their mouths together. She kisses Santana as she strokes at her chest, at her stomach, brushes her knuckles over Santana's hips and up and down the length of her thighs. Santana moans when Brittany's fingers dance up the insides of her thighs until they stroke against the warmest part of her for long moments before slipping inside.
Santana rocks her body against the feeling of fullness, of Brittany not being inside just her head or her heart. Brittany kisses her slowly, works her up even slower and does whatever she can to make sure Santana doesn't think about anything else for as long as possible.
When Santana comes it starts slowly at her core, builds throughout her until she can feel it in her toes and the tips of her eyelashes as she blinks at the pleasure. Brittany kisses her slowly and gives her a moment, lets her catch her breath before she starts starts stroking her again slowly. Santana gasps and buries her face in Brittany's neck, doesn't care about the bruise she might leave at the curve of her shoulder.
Brittany gasps into her ear as she gathers what she can of Santana's hair onto the top of her head, hisses at Santana's teeth as the bite into her skin.
"Tell me when you want me to stop," she breathes against her cheek.
Santana doesn't.
/
She doesn't fall asleep, after. She still doesn't know what time it is and she doesn't really care anymore, at least not until the sun comes up and she has to face the new day. She'd rather stay awake with Brittany and bask in the last few hours of bittersweet peace she has before the world finds out about her.
Her hips still bracket Brittany's and her body rests completely atop her. Brittany doesn't seem to mind whatever discomfort it brings; she stopped her from moving when Santana tried to climb back beside her. She could move now while Brittany takes a moment to rest but she can't. She just wants to unabashedly look at Brittany for a little while longer before people start judging her for it.
"Go to sleep," Brittany whispers softly.
Santana snuggles closer. "I can't," she admits quietly. "I don't know what to do."
Brittany runs a hand over Santana's forehead, pushes her hair back and doesn't stop until she's cupping the back of Santana's neck. "You don't have to do anything."
"But..."
"You don't have to do anything," Brittany repeats. "Except tell the truth. If anything happens, we'll work it out together. We'll do this together."
Santana sighs and whispers out a disbelieving, "Britt..."
"We're together," Brittany says, probably a little too loudly than she meant to because her voice drops a little. "We're together. It's you and me and that's all that matters, right?"
Santana looks at her for a minute before she nods. "But, Britt, my family... my parents, they..."
Brittany cups her cheeks and kisses her, hard. "We'll deal with that when it comes to it, okay?" She whispers. "But I'm not going to allow them to let you feel ashamed of yourself." She exhales shakily, scared. "Just let me help you, okay? I'm your girlfriend," she whispers and Santana's heart still jumps a little at the reminder. Brittany must feel it because she smiles a little. "I can handle the bad stuff. You don't have to do this alone."
Santana nods and kisses Brittany thank you. Brittany brings her close, tucks Santana against her until her forehead is pressed against her throat, body still wrapped over hers.
"Get some sleep," Brittany whispers again. "Tomorrow's only going to be harder if you're tired."
"Tomorrow's only going to come quicker if I sleep," Santana retorts and she loves the way Brittany brings her closer, even as she's making a sound of disapproval.
Her fingers stroke down Santana's back and she sighs. "But, either way, it's still coming whether you sleep or not."
Santana kisses her throat. "Smart ass," she says grumpily. "I just want to lay here with you."
Brittany smiles. Santana feels her cheeks move with the corners of her mouth. "You are laying here with me. You can lay here with me all night and you can lay here with me tomorrow night too," she says carefully. "You can lay with me here all the nights, if you want to. I don't mind."
Santana tries not to read too heavily into it, just listens to the words and understands them as Brittany trying to get her to go to sleep. It's what convinces her that she should go to sleep because, if she doesn't, all she's going to do is stay up and try to figure out what exactly she might have meant.
"Britt," she whispers after twenty minutes of silence. She knows Brittany isn't asleep because her breathing hasn't evened out and her hand is still stroking up and down Santana's back. "Tell me a story."
Brittany chuckles a little. "Why?"
Santana snuggles closer. "Because I want you to," she says. "And I feel calmer when I can hear your voice."
Brittany hums. "What story do you want to hear?"
Santana shakes her head. "I don't care. I like all your stories," she presses another kiss to Brittany's neck. "Tell me your favorite story," she instructs and then she rests her head against Brittany and waits for her to begin.
But Brittany doesn't say anything, not for a long time. After a while, Santana starts to think she's fallen asleep but then Brittany breathes out unsteadily and Santana shifts to look at her.
"What?" she asks when she sees the glassiness in Brittany's eyes.
Brittany's smile is watery, fond. "My favorite story doesn't have an end yet," she admits quietly. Santana's heart skips a beat. "I'm not even sure it has a middle."
Her fingers stroke Santana's hair behind her ears and Santana just keeps looking, at how sad and happy she looks at the same. She looks a million other things, too: hopeful, scared, excited, intrigued. Santana reaches up to touch the creases in her forehead, the tightness in her cheeks. She still can't believe how beautiful Brittany is, even now, even after she watched it grow into it day after day.
She can't stop her own curiosity welling inside of her. "What do you want to happen in the middle?" she asks carefully and much too terrified for the answer.
For one of the few times Santana's witnessed, Brittany suddenly looks shy. Her cheeks pink, even in the darkness of the room and she looks away, shaking her head in refusal.
"What do you want to happen, Britt Britt?" she asks softly and when Brittany looks her in the eye she knows they're not on the same page or the same paragraph: they're on the damn same line. "Tell me," she says and Brittany's never looked more worried she might scare her away. "I'm not going anywhere," she reassures.
It takes her a moment but soon Brittany's face softens and she reaches to stroke her thumb over Santana's cheek. Her eyes well with tears but she looks so hopeful that Santana feels it growing inside of her too.
"It's about these two girls," Brittany whispers. "I want... I want one of the girls to keep being as brave as she is, because I always knew she could be." Santana smiles. "I want everyone to see how beautiful and amazing she is, to see how scared she is because then maybe they might understand why she's so defensive all the time." Brittany chuckles. "I want... I want them to be together and I want them to graduate high school together. I want the world to figure out that them loving each other is okay," she nods tearfully. "And if it doesn't start figure it out soon I want to try and convince the world that loving someone is awesome no matter who it is. I want to change the world for y – her. I want her dreams to come true."
Santana wonders if Brittany's noticed her slip-ups or if she just doesn't care to keep up the ruse anymore. She smiles and stays silent as Brittany keeps talking.
"I want to find a house with her. I want to live with her... I want to marry her and start a life with her." Santana lets her fingers brush away Brittany's tears. "I want to make babies with her because I know that, one day, it'll be possible."
Brittany looks at her so seriously that Santana can't help but chuckle.
"I want her to be my family," Brittany says, softer now. "But sometimes I think she already is."
Santana looks at her for a while, strokes her cheeks with her fingertips and soaks everything in. She takes Brittany words, her meaning, and locks them away in part of her heart where all the most special and precious things go. Brittany just gazes back and Santana knows there's no other way that story could go, no other way than that one.
"And how do you want it to end?" she asks breathlessly and she should be scared but she isn't.
Brittany pulls her until their noses and chins and foreheads are as close to each other as possible. Brittany's eyes flutter closed and she leans in to kiss Santana softly before she runs a thumb over her bottom lip.
"Exactly like this," she whispers. "Just like this."
/
Santana's awoken by a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Girls, it's time to get up."
Santana instinctively freezes because she's naked and laid out against a just as naked Brittany. Brittany's already quicker than her, though, and Santana feels the covers being pulled up over them until Santana's pretty sure the only part of her out of the covers is her forehead.
Brittany's mom laughs a little and Santana wants to die right then and there, regardless of the fact that she already knows. She wishes she could be more dressed, then rolling off her daughter would make it less awkward rather than more.
"Be downstairs in half an hour," Brittany's mom says, definitely rolling her eyes. "I'm making breakfast. You girls need to eat."
/
They shower and get ready. Brittany pulls Santana's cheerios bag out from nowhere and hands her a clean uniform before finding her some of the underwear she's always kept in Brittany's drawer.
Santana dresses slowly, reluctantly, as Brittany brushes her hair and puts it into a pony tail. Santana wants to be uncomfortable with the extra attention but she can't, not when Brittany's smiling at her and making all her worries ebb away.
"Love you," Brittany says as they look at each other in the mirror.
Santana can't stop the grin that breaks over her features. "Love you, too."
/
They eat breakfast slowly, running ahead of schedule for the first time in a really long time. Santana pushes her eggs around her plate and picks at her bacon. Brittany waits until her dad leaves to take her little sister to school before she wraps her fingers around Santana's and kisses the back of her knuckles.
It seems no time at all before leaving the house and they're standing in the parking lot next to Santana's car. That's when Brittany's brow furrows at her. Santana's not sure if she's spoke a word in the past hour. She just stares up at the school in silence.
"You okay?" Brittany asks.
Santana looks away from the school and then struggles a smile at her. "I think I'm going to need you to hold my hand for this," she admits, laughing mirthlessly.
Brittany looks shocked but she reaches her hand out to her anyway. Santana takes it and Brittany looks at her again when she still doesn't move.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Brittany asks a little quieter, her features concerned and serious. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'm sure they'd understand if we skipped and stayed at -"
"I'm okay," Santana cuts through her and she's not sure if she's lying or not, so that must be a good sign. She looks at Brittany and smiles. "I have you, don't I?"
Brittany squeezes her hand and smiles. "Yeah. You do."
Santana squeezes back. "Then let's go."
They walk to school, hand in hand, together.