Santana was alone in her basement, sitting at her most personal of desks, tucked safely away in her nook. Her knees were drawn up to her chest on her chair, her arms wrapped around them with her chin resting on top. There were four items of significance sitting on her desk; one laptop, one magazine, one cell phone, and one bottle of beer. Santana had only touched one since setting them all down.
She was scared of two of the four objects, and trying to not be dependent on the others. She didn't need to call Brittany for her reassurances, and she didn't need to have more than one beer tonight. She was scared of what she would find on the laptop, she was scared about what she would read in the magazine.
Both of them had the ability to mess up her unstable and perpetually negative self-image. She didn't want to find out that she did a horrible thing with Artie, and she didn't want to realize she didn't live up to her preconceived notions about this article.
Sometimes when you looked in a mirror, you don't like what you see.
The mirrors in front of her were skewed in very different ways, one from hated and the other was touched with a level of caring that Santana was still learning to be comfortable with.
Which mattered more to her right now? A tattered, ruined, friendship? Or possibly the best thing that's ever happened to her, a budding romance with a beautiful woman?
"Just read the article," Santana mumbled to herself, reaching out to take it for the first time.
She leaned back in her chair, resting the magazine on her knees. She liked the picture on the cover. It was something simple; her at the COG speaking to a few coworkers. She wasn't even sure if Brittany had planned it, but the way she was holding her tablet, the Clockwork logo was gleaming in the light like it was an advertisement. She thought it was a small skill on Brittany's part.
She slowly turned the pages, pausing to glance over a few articles that had nothing to do with her. Santana knew she was delaying the inevitable, but she would get to it in her own time. Twenty minutes and a few sips of beer later, she finally got to the article. Santana was initially impressed by the actual amount of words on the pages. Then she remembered that this wasn't an advertisement blurb, this was a piece of journalism.
Behind the Face of Clockwork.
Santana read through everything with an odd feeling of displacement, like she wasn't really connected to this Santana Lopez person and all of her accomplishments. Brittany had certainly written her like a badass. It was subtle of course, listing all of her accolades like a resume would be tacky, and Santana thought Brittany balanced praising her and writing the facts as they were. Like her previous works, Santana found Brittany's writing to actually be really witty, and she chuckled at how the journalist described the COGS meeting area as the Knights of the Round Table in the kingdom of Clockwork.
She wondered if that made her King Arthur, she damn sure wasn't going to be Sir Robin.
The pictures were maybe the best part of the entire thing. They were so real, none of them were posed, and some of them weren't even while she was at Clockwork. She would have to have a talk with Holly about when Brittany had asked for these. She would have to send the professor a copy of this; she was mentioned at least three times and rightfully cited as a huge influence in Santana's education and success in her years at UCLA and beyond into Berkeley.
Santana found herself reading, and rereading, the entire thing about five times. There were parts that she remembered telling Brittany herself, and parts that she knew Brittany had found out on her own. The few quotes thrown in the mix were always completely relevant and never taken out of context. She loved Brittany for how respectfully this was done. She did, however, pick up on the undertone, and maybe it was just because she understood what was behind it, but there was a definite hint at the resentment between herself and her role in Clockwork's marketing and advertisement.
It was tastefully done and she guessed Brittany's intent was to make the reader question if she really wanted to be a figurehead.
Santana was quite pleased with the result.
Brittany knew it was completely ridiculous for her to be doing this, she knew that.
After calling it a night with her friends she made it home and promptly threw her clothes in the washer to rid them of any lingering peanut residue immediately. Moments later she jumped in the shower to do the same thing to her body and hair. Brittany knew where she wanted to end up tonight, and it wasn't alone in her apartment. She pulled out her phone as she walked out front door, wishing Lord Tubbington a goodnight as she locked up.
The phone only rang twice before Santana picked it up, "Hey, B, how'd the celebration go?"
"Can I come over?"
Santana's tone changed instantly and the light clacking of a keyboard vanished, "Are you alright?"
Brittany laughed softly at the concern in Santana's voice, she probably shouldn't have opened with that, "Yeah, San. I'm fine, why?"
She knew why, she just wanted to hear it.
"I don't know," she seemed to be embarrassed, "you went out with your friends... I'm not sure how crazy a bunch of writers can get, but a girl can worry, right?"
"Yes, and I love that you do... but you don't have to, I don't want to come over 'cause I'm upset or whatever..." Brittany paused, and it was her turn to be embarrassed. "It's late, and you have work again tomorrow, and—"
"Did you need me to come over? Do you need a ride home?"
Brittany cringed, realizing Santana had realized that she was a little more than buzzed, "No, I'm already in a cab."
"Cab to where, B?"
"Your place?" she squeezed her eyes closed and hoped Santana wouldn't mind.
"I'm gonna wait on the porch until you get here," there was a light shuffling noise and a smile in the woman's voice when she said it, "stay on the phone with me, okay?"
Brittany agreed because she wouldn't have wanted to say goodbye just then anyway. The cab ride was short and she was happy to tell Santana about the dinner celebration when the Latina asked about it. She made sure to not mention Artie's arrival. They would talk about that when she had her head on straight.
Santana met them on the side of the road, and paid the cab driver as Brittany got out of the back seat, protesting, "You don't have to—"
"But I want to," Santana smiled up at her, an amused look in her eye by Brittany's arrival in her pajama's. "Please tell me you didn't go out like that."
"I went home to shower before I came," Brittany slung her overnight bag over her shoulder and watched the cab pull away, "you can't go to that place without being caked in peanut shells."
Santana stepped forward then, delighted that even when she was kind of drunk, Brittany had taken her time to be mindful of her like that. She took Brittany's face in her hands and kissed her softly, "I love you."
"I love you, also."
Santana bit her lip, trying to keep from laughing, because she was pretty sure Brittany wasn't trying to be funny, "Let's go inside."
She took the blonde by the hand and they walked towards the house together.
Brittany leaned over and whispered as they moved through the foyer, "Is Quinn home? I know she boycotted coming out with Rachel tonight because you couldn't go."
"Yeah, she told me," Santana answered, matching Brittany's whisper for fun, "and yes, she's home."
"So... are we breaking the rules?"
Santana snorted, "I don't know... let's be quiet just in case."
"Alright," Brittany nodded seriously. "Were you working?"
"Not really," Santana admitted as they started to move past the basement and towards Santana's bedroom. She had been sitting on the computer, messing around online, stalking Brittany's Facebook, and not touching Tina's old computer. Brittany stopped in the middle of the hall, pulling back on Santana's arm. She looked back, confused, "What's up?"
"You don't have to stop working," Brittany tilted her head back to the basement door, "I'll crash downstairs, you can join when you're done."
"That bed is tiny," Santana tugged on Brittany's arm again, "and you're a really good reason to call it a night."
"Maybe I want a reason to share a tiny bed with you?" Brittany's eyebrows quirked and she tugged Santana into her, wrapping her arms around the woman's waist to hold her close.
She didn't realize how much she had needed Brittany to be holding her until she was in the blonde's arms. Santana buried her face in Brittany's shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut.
"Are you..." Brittany's voice was cautious, concerned. She held Santana close for a moment, trying to pinpoint what was bothering her, "Are you okay? You seem sad."
"I'm not sad, I'm just... I'm really glad you came over tonight, I..." Santana chuckled, finding herself funny when she said, "I have so many feelings."
Brittany took her by the shoulders and pushed her away just enough so she could see her face. "Come with me, okay?"
Santana nodded and let Brittany lead her downstairs, past her work station, behind the storage units, to the safest, most comforting place she knew in Santana's life. The lamp in the nook was already on and Brittany could tell Santana had already been down here before she had arrived. She led the woman to the bed and they sat down together, Brittany slinging her arm around her waist to keep her close and Santana laid her head on her shoulder.
"Are you mad because I went out and got drunk? I didn't mean to get so—"
"That's not it Britt," Santana looked up, a small smile on her face. "I can handle drunk, and I can handle you going out with your friends, please, I'm not that kinda girl. I just... have a lot on my mind."
Santana had a lot on her mind. The exhibition, things with Mike were about to get tense, she was still kind of miffed at Tina, the feature would publish tomorrow—
Brittany watched Santana's eyes light up suddenly, and she nearly jumped off the bed, her smile contradicting her words, "Fucking shit, Britt!"
"What?" Brittany scrambled for an explanation, still half a step behind, she thought they were sad. Weren't they just sad?
"This," she grabbed the advanced copy of Brittany's feature from her desk and held it up as proof, "was the best thing in the fucking world, the best thing I've ever read."
Brittany's heart nearly stops, her eyes dropping to her hands in her lap. Even if Santana was praising her, she was still nervous. It was the fruits of months of labor, days of editing, and hours laying awake at night worrying. She had needed to do it right, make it worth the faith Santana had put in her, she needed to do Santana justice.
"Oh... you read it?"
Santana walked back to the bed, reaching out to lift Brittany's chin and urge her to meet her eyes, "I read it. I read it and I loved it, Brittany, I loved it."
"You promise?" Brittany asked in a moment of clear self-consciousness. "You're not just saying that to be nice."
"I would never do something like that," Santana chuckled lowly, before leaning just a little further closer, "Brittany, I promise, I'm not just saying that. I loved this, I love you, and I have never been more proud to be in a magazine before."
Brittany didn't know she was crying until Santana was kissing the tears away, "What if... what if the people at Clockwork don't like it?"
"Fuck the people at Clockwork," Santana scoffed, "Brittany, this... this isn't about them anymore."
She wasn't sure she understood so she kept quiet, hoping Santana would elaborate. Santana sat down next to her, her eyes focused on the magazine in her hands, "Britt, yeah, when the idea first popped up, I thought that this was it, this was a way to prove to somebody, somewhere, that I'm worth something. Something more than... something more than a few fucking advertisements."
"What's it about now then?" Brittany sniffled, still confused, and emotionally compromised from the alcohol.
Santana kissed her cheek, "You know what your article did?"
Brittany shook her head because she had no idea.
"It made me..." she trailed off because she didn't know how to say all of the things the article inspired in her. "It made me feel good about myself, Britt. It made me feel like I'm worth something... because I am, not because other people think so."
Santana thought she finally might be over it. Screw public opinion and the people that thought she was just a figurehead. Screw the people at work that think that very same thing. She wasn't even sure if they really thought that anymore or if she was just so convinced that everyone was out to get her that she's warping the world around her into her own little universe of self-hatred. Whatever the reason, she needed to start looking at things differently.
"Santana, you know I've always thought you are amazing," Brittany licked her lips, "I know that, and Quinn, and Tina do too."
"There's a difference, B," Santana stroked her hair gently, "between hearing other people say it, and believing it for yourself."
"I get that," Brittany nodded slowly, wrapping her arms around Santana's waist and drawing them down onto thebed. Santana was quick to cuddle into her, putting her arms around her neck and kissing her softly. "I'm so glad you liked it."
"I loved it," Santana kissed her, "you're amazing," she kissed her again, "it couldn't have been better. I am so happy."
She leaned over the blonde and smiled, a blissful, honest, smile.
Brittany let out a relieved laugh, finally, truly able to celebrate her work, with her greatest critic satisfied beyond reason, "I am so glad you like it."
"I'm just glad I met you," Santana admitted quietly. "If you hadn't... this never would of happened..."
"It would of happened, San," Brittany held her close, "like, with or without me you would have eventually made someone notice. You're too awesome to not notice."
"I'm glad it was you."
"Me too," Brittany agreed, closing her eyes with a content smile. They laid together for a while, until Santana was sure Brittany had fallen asleep. She jumped a little when Brittany asked, "What else is on your mind? You had sad eyes when I got here."
"Sad eyes?" Santana snorted into Brittany's shoulder.
"Yeah, like, sad."
"It doesn't matter," she kissed Brittany's cheek lightly, "tonight is about you, not my drama."
She watched Brittany's brow furrow, before she said, "But... I want to be a part of your drama. Your drama is my drama, my drama is your drama, we drama together."
Santana propped herself up on her shoulder too get a better look at the blonde, who's eyes were still closed and was falling in and out of sleep. She brushed her hair away from her forehead and whispered, "I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, go to sleep now. I love you."
"Mmh," Brittany made a small pouting noise from deep in her chest, her lips puckering.
Santana grinned, taking the hint and kissing her goodnight.
When Quinn came into the kitchen, she didn't expect to find the refrigerator open and someone shuffling behind it.
"I thought you would have left by now," Quinn looked at the clock.
She had just woken up and was fixing for a cup of coffee before getting ready for the day. She did a double take as she passed the fridge, finding the person behind the door a lot taller and much more blonde than the woman she was expecting.
"Morning," Brittany waved awkwardly with the hand that wasn't holding a bagel.
"Good morning, Brittany," Quinn smiled at the embarrassed look in Brittany's eyes. "Where's Santana?"
"She's still in bed," Brittany closed the door to the refrigerator and took a small bite of the bagel, she was starving.
"Still?" Quinn glanced at the clock again to confirm that her friend was way behind her usual schedule. She glanced back at Brittany, "How did you manage to keep her from going in early?"
"Because I'm awesome," Brittany joked, still half asleep and not really thinking about what she was saying. She flushed when Quinn's eyebrow quirked at her, "I didn't mean it like—we didn't do anything last night. I knew she wouldn't want to when you're in the house, those are, you know, the rules—not that I'm complaining, I was kinda drunk last night—"
"Brittany," Quinn laughed, pulling out a mug for her coffee. The journalist fell silent, running a hand through her hair to calm herself. This was Quinn, Santana's friend, not her mother. She shouldn't be freaking out like this, rules or not, they were grown women and she was allowed to spend the night. Thankfully, Quinn decided to let her rant go without comment, "Do you drink coffee?"
"Yes," she nodded, taking another bite of her bagel to keep herself from talking.
"How do you take it?" Quinn made their coffee as Brittany ate her bagel. "You could have used the toaster, you know."
"I don't normally toast them," Brittany shrugged, "makes the cream cheese melt."
Quinn nodded like she understood, but she didn't, "I never told you how much I loved your article."
"Thanks," Brittany felt her cheeks start to warm again.
"It made me cry, actually," Quinn sent her an embarrassed smile as she handed her a cup of coffee.
"I'm... sorry?" Brittany wasn't sure if that was a compliment. She wanted to take it as one.
"Don't ever be sorry for writing that article," Quinn told her seriously over her own mug. "It was beautiful."
Brittany took a sip of coffee to keep herself from getting too emotional, she wasn't that great at taking compliments about her work, "Drat, beautiful wasn't exactly what I was going for. I was thinking something along the lines of... astounding."
Quinn snorted into her coffee.
"Or epic," Brittany continued with a playful serious tone. "I would have liked to pull off epic."
"Well, it was all of those things," Quinn started filling another mug of coffee, "and then some."
"Santana said she liked it," Brittany admitted, still excited by the thought.
Quinn's eyebrows shot up, "I thought it was going to take her weeks to read it, I was actually planning on bribing her tonight."
"What were you going to bribe her with?" Brittany asked, curious about Santana's vices.
"That new video game just came out," Quinn's eyes shifted to the ceiling as she tried to remember the title, "Diablo 3, or something?"
Brittany shrugged because she was no expert and had never heard of it.
"Apparently, it's a big deal," Quinn rolled her eyes, "she had been talking about it with Holly online the other day, I don't think she's had any time to go and get it, though."
"I hope she can find some time to play... I know she has a lot on her plate with the exhibition and she needs some downtime."
"Good thing you like watching her play those stupid things," Quinn smirked, handing her the second cup of coffee that was obviously for Santana, "I'm sure you can convince her to take a night off."
Brittany would accept that challenge wholeheartedly.
She had woken up when Brittany had left the bed. Knowing she would return, Santana was fine with laying in bed and taking some time to think.
She would have to face Mike today. Last night that article, gave her some sort of euphoric boost of self-esteem... she felt like she could take on the world, like she could walk into Clockwork and own the place instead of walking on eggshells. Santana hoped it lasted.
Calling Tina today was a must, she needed to make sure her friend knew she was... fine with what happened. Well, as much as she could be. She had told Tina what she wanted to hear to get out of the house, and honestly, she couldn't stay mad at the woman if her life depended on it. She wondered if she would get that way with Brittany.
Maybe she was already there.
A noise brought her out of her thoughts; soft, barefooted, steps walking towards her. She laid still, listening.
"I know you're awake."
She could hear the smile in Brittany's voice and she peeked one of her eyes open, unable to keep herself from the guilty smirk on her face, "You learn quick."
"So you tell me," Brittany set a cup of coffee down on her desk and paused, for the first time noticing the broken laptop. "Ooo, what happened here?"
Santana's stomach twisted as Brittany touched the corner of the screen, her finger tracing the fractured glass carefully. Having someone, anyone, Brittany of all people, touch that laptop put her on edge.
"It was thrown out a third story window," Santana explained from behind her, sitting up and pushing her hair out of her face.
"What? Really?" Brittany wasn't sure if she was joking or not, the computer sure did look like it had seen better days. "Who would do something like that?"
"Tina," Santana said quietly, honestly. "Tina threw it out her window after watching the video of me and Artie."
Brittany's hand jerked back as if she had been burned. She looked at Santana with a disbelieving expression, "You... you got it from her?"
"Yeah, last night," Santana watched her face carefully.
"That's why you were sad last night," Brittany fidgeted with her coffee mug before saying, "I feel upstaged... can I throw it on some train tracks or something?"
Santana cracked a smile, "When I'm finished with it, I'll give you a bat and you can do whatever you want with it."
"What do you mean?"
"I was..." Santana's smile faded, "I was going to try to get the video off of it."
"You were, maybe, when you went over there to get it... but you don't want to anymore."
Brittany said it with such a conviction and certainty to her voice that Santana was surprised.
"I don't?" she wondered if this was Brittany's way of telling her she didn't agree with trying to watch the footage.
"No, I don't think you want to," Brittany shut the laptop with definitive sort of click. The broken reflection of herself in the screen made her skin crawl, she took a long breath before continuing, "if you wanted to see it you would have already done it. You wouldn't have let anything distract you from it. You're very particular like that, Santana. If you want something done, you let few things distract you from getting it."
"I think reading your article and having you come over was a pretty justifiable distraction," she argued for arguments sake. Better that than to admit she was too scared to try to find the footage.
"Santana, you don't want to watch that video, just like everyone that cares for you doesn't want you to."
"You don't know that I—"
"Tell me you do," Brittany sent her a level look, "tell me you want to see that and I'll believe it. I'll even sit here with you and hold your hand through the whole thing."
Santana opened her mouth but the words never came. She didn't want to watch it. She didn't want anything to do with it. She wished she could just forget it ever happened. She thought that watching it would give her closure, but now she was just afraid of what she would find.
"I think it scares you," Brittany said softly, knowing Santana would become defensive as soon as she said it. "You have so, so much guilt about everything, San, but you don't need to watch it to prove that it's not your fault or that you're not to blame."
She blinked towards the ceiling, trying to hold back tears.
"You feel better, though... right?"
She didn't know what Brittany was talking about, "About what?"
"You feel better now that you have this," Brittany glanced at the computer and set her coffee down next to Santana's forgotten cup. She walked towards the bed with open arms and Santana clung to her waist as soon as it was within reach, pulling Brittany onto the bed with her.
"It's like those magazines you keep upstairs," Brittany thought hard for the right words, "it's some sort of... physical representation of the parts of you that people have stolen. You collect them, and lock them away, nice and safe to like... comfort yourself somehow. Try to take back ownership of it."
Santana could feel her shoulders shaking, pressing her face against Brittany's chest to find a better sense of comfort than an obsessive magazine hording habit.
"Now, you can lock this away too," Brittany whispered into her hair, hoping Santana would take her advice, "and never let it ruin your day again."
"It's not that simple, Brittany."
"But it can be," she held her tighter, "please, let it be that simple."
Santana grasped at Brittany's shirt, steadying herself.
"Remember all that stuff you said last night," she continued softly, "about how you were feeling so good about yourself, like no one else mattered anymore."
Santana nodded, because she had said that. She tried to rekindle that feeling, the power Brittany had inspired in her. She tried to remember some of Brittany's words from the article, the tales of her successes, the things she had accomplished.
All with a heart filled with bitterness and spite.
She needed to start letting that go, because she needed to start making room for the love Brittany was offering her so readily. The self-worth she was trying to teach her how to feel. Santana took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the smell of Brittany's shirt like it would fill her soul with the lighthearted attitude Brittany was able to live by.
"You're right, they don't matter," she mumbled into Brittany's warm body, "it doesn't matter, he doesn't matter. You're the only one that matters, Brittany."
She can feel Brittany chuckling quietly, a comforting rumbling against her ear, "I hope not, Quinn, Tina, and Kurt will be kinda mad if that were true."
There it was again, Brittany reminding her that there were people out there that loved her. Respected her. Meant the world to her. She was ready to start living up to that.
"You're going to be late if you stay in bed any longer," Brittany had to say it because she knew Santana's work was important.
"What about you?" Santana asked, not wanting to leave the safety of Brittany's arms. "Shouldn't you have left by now?"
"Rachel told me I didn't have to come in today, part of being an accomplished journalist, you know."
She felt herself smile, "I think Clockwork can live without me for a few hours."
"Are you sure? I wouldn't mind going in with you this morning," Brittany offered.
"If I'm going to spend a morning with you," Santana sat up a little, brushing the moisture off her face and giving the blonde an adoring look, "I'd rather spend it right here."
Brittany lifted her head, matching her smile and kissing the woman, "I would be flattered that you're choosing me over work, but I know you're just trying to avoid going to work after people read the article."
Santana blushed, as she said, "Those people don't mean shit to me, remember?"
"Nothing?" Brittany asked only kind of seriously.
"I'm working on it," Santana caught onto her genuine concern, knowing that this wouldn't happen overnight, "this is progress, right?"
"Most decidedly," Brittany tugged her closer, kissing her forehead, "a step in the right direction."
An hour turned into two, then rolled into three, and Santana wasn't really concerned.
Sure, she was putting off dealing with Mike, and the reaction to the feature, but she was here, with Brittany and starting to get hungry. Was it really close to time for lunch? From her spot laying on top of the woman, her head resting at the top of Brittany's stomach, her hips snuggled between the blonde's legs, she could hear Brittany's heartbeat faintly. The slow and steady breathing pattern was more prominent but no less comforting.
She could listen to the woman live for the next forever.
A glaringly unnatural noise broke through the beautiful cadence that was Brittany's organic structure. Santana glanced at her phone. She didn't want to answer it, she didn't want to do anything but lay with Brittany and breathe. Brittany grabbed the small device off her desk and looked at the screen. Her eyebrows rose a little, "I think you want to get this one."
"I don't care who it is," Santana slid her hands up Brittany's sides, tucking her hands under the back of her ribs. Kurt had already called twice, Mike had called once, and Quinn had left a voice mail to tell her that people loved the article. "No one else matters."
"It's Holly Holiday."
Brittany laughed at how quickly Santana's hand reached up to grab the phone.
"I told you," she mumbled to herself with and amused smile.
Santana sent her a playful eye roll and answered the phone call, "Hey, Holly."
"Santana Lopez, how quickly can you get a hold of that writer girlfriend of yours?"
Santana's eyes shifted over to the blonde, she wasn't sure if Brittany could hear her old professor, "Pretty quickly, why?"
"The next time you see her," Holly sounded happily serious when she said, "ask that woman to marry you."
"You're an idiot," Santana rolled her eyes, blushing when Brittany's bashful smile let her know that she could hear everything Holly was saying.
"Call me what you like, but even an idiot could tell that she cares about you. I just finished reading her article on you—for the third time, and I swear the love is just flying off the page."
"How did you get a copy?" Santana blinked. "You're on the other side of the country."
"You didn't send this to me?" Holly sounded confused. "It showed up this morning in an overnight envelope."
"No, it just hit stands this morning," as the idea hit her, she looked over at Brittany, "the only people that could have sent it last night would have been someone that worked there, and could have gotten a hold of an advanced copy."
Brittany bit her lip avoiding Santana's quizzical eyes.
"Do you think it was Brittany?"
"Yeah, I do," Santana said shortly and Brittany only blushed deeper.
"I'll have to thank her," Holly continued, "you never let me geek out about your awesome the way I want to. Like that time you won that software competition at Berkeley and didn't even flippen tell me. I had to find out from Linda in the Engineering Department."
"Yeah, I know how much you hate finding out about things from Linda," Santana agreed teasingly. "Total travesty."
"Don't even start with me about that woman."
"Don't worry, I have better things to do with my time than listen to you bitch about your department rivalry."
Holly snorted at her snark and moved on to more important things, "This article is seriously such a compliment, Santana. She really put her time into making sure everyone knows how great you are, like, she was able to slip in your qualifications in without making out to be some lame scheme for attention. What did you think?"
"I loved it," she met Brittany's eyes, "I loved everything about it."
"Santana, you need to tell her how much you appreciate it. It's seriously love in the form of literature."
"I will, soon."
"Good… I'm so proud of you, Santana."
Santana's dropped from Brittany's instantly, her expression slipping into a flash of vulnerability, incredibly touched by the praise, but unwilling to show how much it meant to her. Holly seemed to be expecting her silence.
"Reading this made me remember the girl that walked into my Intro to Robotics class years ago," Holly chuckled on the other end, "you were so determined to hate everything about it, so stubborn about being a doctor."
"That really worked out for me," Santana scratched her nose self-consciously.
"Things turned out pretty well, I would like to think."
"Yeah," this time Santana couldn't keep the smile off her face, "me too."
Brittany laid with Santana for a few more minutes, listening to her reminisce with the woman she respected the most. When Santana finally got off the phone her eyes were shining with a sense of pride that Brittany was sure only Holly could inspire.
"Why did you send her a copy of the article?" Santana asked quietly, setting her phone on the bed carelessly.
"I was sending one to my mom," Brittany shrugged absently, "because that's what I do when I'm proud of something, show my mom. Then she always tells me how proud she is of me and… it's a good feeling, you know? I wanted you to have that too... I thought Holly could give it to you."
Santana just stared at her for a long moment and Brittany started to worry at she had done something wrong.
"You sent Holly a copy of the article on the off chance that she would call me up and tell me she was proud of me?"
"I sent it to Holly because she cares about you, and I care about you, and that's what people do when they care about someone, they brag about their accomplishments and want everyone to know that they're great," Brittany slipped her fingers under Santana's arms and tugged gently, urging her closer. When Santana finally scooted up her body, Brittany leaned over to kiss her nose. "You're great Santana, Holly knows it, I know it, and we love you for it."
Santana was sure that even if Holly didn't know it yet, she might have given her the last bit of life coaching she would need. This woman, this journalist, Brittany S. Pierce, was something special.