The next morning, Brittany felt much more rested, slowly waking up and taking in her surroundings, reminding herself that she wasn't in Europe anymore, the events of the day before coming back to her quickly. Yawning, she dragged herself up, checking her phone and seeing the text from Santana that had come in last night. She saw no other texts from Santana, Rachel or Kurt and made the conclusion that Santana must've been okay in the night. Taking a quick shower, Brittany went thought her morning routine, pulling a brush through her hair and brushing her teeth and washing her face before dressing, a giddy feeling of excitement in her stomach.
She didn't know what was coming next, if she'd have to find a more permanent place to stay or what the future held, but strangely, she wasn't worried about it. She'd been working nonstop the past three years and she was in New York with three people she knew very well. For the past few years she'd known exactly what the future held but now, she had no idea. All she knew is that her immediate future held Santana, and that was all she needed.
Pulling on jeans and a sweater, she slipped her sneakers on, not taking the time to dry her hair or apply make up. It didn't seem to make sense, getting ready to see people who had known her for so long - she knew she didn't have to look a certain way around any of them. The hotel was so close to the loft that Brittany could walk and so she did, feeling excited that she really was in New York, not really paying much attention to the city yesterday.
When she got to the loft, Rachel let her in and she smiled at her warmly, Rachel giving her a very excited megawatt smile back. "Is Santana up?" She wondered quietly, glancing toward the curtains.
Rachel, far more of a morning person than either Kurt or Santana, had already fully showered, dressed, done some yoga, and eaten before Brittany arrived. She is especially energetic today due to both her excitement over Brittany's presence in the city and the fact that she had gotten a decent night's sleep. She nodded in response to Brittany's question about Santana, her voice only a shade less loud than usual.
"Good morning Brittany! I hope you slept well, is your hotel nice? You know, you don't have to stay in a hotel, you are more than welcome to stay with us for the duration of your time in the city. Our bathroom may be a bit crowded but it is clean, and we manage. Would you like some coffee? I've already had mine," she added rather unnecessarily. "Kurt says to tell you hello, he had to leave for work. Yes, Santana is awake, but I'm sure you remember how she is in the morning. She prefers to roll around and curse the sun for a bit before rising."
It had taken Santana about twenty minutes to fall asleep after getting Brittany's text- far faster than she had anticipated and far faster than was usual for her. Her night had been only a little restless; she knew she had a nightmare only because her pillow was damp against her cheek when she awakened. She can't say she feels good- that would be a huge overstatement- but she feels closer to human than she has most mornings in months.
She hears Brittany coming into the apartment and Rachel's excited rambled greeting and rolls her eyes, but she can't help but smile as her heartbeat skips in her own excitement. Brittany had kept her promise. She was here, before Santana was even out of bed.
"Shut it, Berry," she called through the curtain, but there is no real anger in her tone.
Getting out of bed quickly, she snags Rachel's brush to run quickly through her hair before pushing aside the curtain to see Brittany for herself. She can't hide her quick smile as she looks her over.
"Hey."
Brittany tried, and failed, to hide her amused grin as Rachel practically exploded with excitement over the mere idea that she and Santana were going on a walk together. For someone who had told them multiple times about her potential futures acting and being on Broadway, Rachel was doing a terrible job at hiding her true intentions as she enthusiastically babbled on about what a great idea a walk was.
She laughed out loud when Santana physically put her hand over Rachel's mouth, not that Rachel seemed the slightest bit phased - Brittany could tell from the way her eyes shone that her smile was still in place under Santana's hand.
"Thanks Rachel, we'll definitely do both of those things. I'm starving," She confessed. Brittany, her body all messed up from the jet lag and schedule change, had woken up to her stomach growling, realizing she'd hardly eaten yesterday, which meant the same for Santana.
Turning her attention to Santana when Rachel left, Brittany grinned at her agreement, patiently hanging back while Santana got herself ready, taking that time to run her fingers through her damp hair a few more times to dry it a little quicker. Suddenly, she was self conscious - should she have put more effort into her appearance, or put on more makeup.
When Santana emerged from her curtained room a second later though, Brittany smiled - Santana was wearing a similar outfit and was equally makeup free. "You look pretty," Brittany blurted before she could even consider whether or not that was a good idea or the right thing to say. She felt herself blush furiously at her own statement but didn't say anything to backtrack - after all, she meant it.
Shrugging her shoulders at Santana's question, Brittany confessed, "I didn't really plan it out. Its super nice outside, so let just see where we go," Brittany suggested with a smile. "If we walk by any diners or something, we can stop in and get food." She added gently.
Santana ducked her head, both pleased, confused, and a little embarrassed by Brittany telling her that she looks pretty. She flushes a little too and tries to cover it by rolling her eyes and huffing aloud.
"Yeah right, I look like a less glittery version of something you'd find in Lord Tubbingon's litter box. How's he doing lately anyway? Has he been sending you any Skype videos of his latest gang activities?"
She noticed to her irritation and growing discomfort the multiple references to food from both Rachel and Brittany, and although her stomach feels hollow and painfully empty, that is how she prefers it these days. She's used to ignoring it to the point that sometimes she almost no longer feels when she is hungry.
Brittany isn't going to make her eat, is she?
She tried to cover her growing twins of anxiety by rolling her eyes again. " I worked in a diner for over a year, kind of got overeating any after us all how all that she gets made. I could go for coffee though."
Black, of course. No cream or sugar. Preferably the largest size possible. She has yet to connect massive amounts of caffeine with any increases in anxiety.
Brittany grinned, rolling her eyes at Santana's reference to Lord Tubbington. Although Santana had never tried to hide her dislike for the cat, Brittany secretly suspected Santana and Tubbs had soft spots for each other and had caught them cuddling a few times when he'd lived with them in the city.
"I think my mom was onto him about his gang involvement so he gave that up." She confessed, "Plus, I think he only ever joined to get back at me for not giving him enough attention, but now he's a spoiled cat so he gets all the attention he wants from my parents like, all the time." Brittany grinned. While she'd been sad to give Lord Tubbington to her parents while she traveled, she knew he was living his best life and that her mom probably let him get away with even more than she did.
As they left the loft, Brittany grinned, turning her face up toward the sun. "It's so pretty out," She grinned, tucking her hair behind her ears as they fell into step. She had no real destination in mind, other than the fact that she was starving and hoping that Santana would end up eating or at least open up to her about it a little. "Okaaay," She dragged out as they fell into step beside each other. "Well we don't have to go to a diner, we could go to a different restaurant or a coffee shop that has food or something," She shrugged, indifferent. "All I know is dancing all the time made it so that I'm also basically hungry all the time," Brittany pointed out, skirting around the fact that she was sure Santana was also hungry.
She refrained from pointing out how small Santana looked or how Brittany noticed it when she held her, afraid that Santana wouldn't let her touch her anymore if she knew Brittany could feel just how much weight Santana had lost. "Plus, I didn't want to talk about it in front of Rachel and Kurt, but I don't…I don't think you've been eating. It, it seems like how you used to be. How we used to be." She confessed quietly, sneaking a glance to Santana out of the corner of her eye. It was no secret between them that both of them had suffered through eating disorders of varying degrees in their lives and had both, at times, been unhealthily thin. Brittany knew though, that while hers was more from obeying Sue and wanting to stay among the best and skinniest Cheerios, Santana issues had run far deeper and stuck with her far longer than Brittany's ever had. Still, it was something Brittany too had experienced, the pangs of hunger and the dizziness that often accompanied lack of eating.
Santana nods in agreement and faint surprise as she looks up at the sky, taking in its cloudless blue expanse. She has not taken any notice lately of things like weather, pretty or otherwise, so Brittany pointing it out to her feels strangely welcome as a calming thing to focus on.
She shrugs when Brittany persists in asking about somewhere to eat. She doesn't want to leave Brittany uncomfortable and hungry, so she guesses she will find a way to get around or make excuses for not eating. It will be damn hard with Brittany sitting across from her watching her though, which is exactly what she's concerned about.
"There's a coffee shop around the corner that isn't terrible, I guess we can go there." She indicated with her head the direction and started to lead Brittany.
She had dreaded and expected that Brittany might bring up her weight and her eating, but she had not thought it would be before she even got to the coffee shop. Fuck. It was always so hard to hide from Brittany when she spoke so directly and sincerely, because Brittany, unlike other people, was not easily distracted by deflection or offensive words thrown out as a way to steer away from whatever made Santana uncomfortable. Brittany was not afraid of her, and she knew Santana too well to accept lies or believe them.
"I don't want to talk about it, Britt," she muttered, instinctively crossing her arms tight over her chest as though to try to hide her body from view. She only succeeded in making herself look smaller, further coiled into her sweatshirt. "Don't worry about it. Let's go back to the sunny day talk."
Brittany nodded in agreement when Santana suggested the coffee shop - that sounded fine to her. She wasn't picky and, at that point, would agree to basically anything that Santana suggested. She tried to ignore the fear that pooled in her stomach - Santana was always so stubborn when it came to this, so good at her own game. During Cheerios, she'd always been the best at staving off hunger, the best at going the longest without eating and the best at dropping weight the fastest. Being in the professional dance world, Brittany could look back and realized how screwed up it was that they were teenagers in that environment, but she knew that Santana's issues with food had started long before Cheerios and continued long after. It was something Santana could slip into easily when things got too chaotic, too stressful, resorting to something she could fully control. Multiple times, Brittany had threated to tell and adult or force Santana to get help.
When Santana brushed her off, Brittany wasn't surprised - she never expected Santana to give into her that easily. It wasn't a topic Santana liked to talk about or something she liked to admit, and so she always brushed it under the rug. "I don't want to talk about sunny days, I am worried about it" Brittany sighed, "I just want you to tell me the truth."
The truth was all Brittany ever wanted from her - the truth about how she felt about her, about how things were at home, about what she wanted to do or if she was sure she really felt that way. So often, Brittany thought that Santana was so consumed with being who the world wanted her to be that she didn't even know the truth until Brittany asked her what it was point blank.
Following Santana into the coffee shop with a huff, Brittany was at least grateful to see that it was mostly empty, that maybe Santana would let her finish their conversation instead of completely shutting her down. She glanced to Santana before glancing at the menu, biting her lip. "Do you want to at least split something with me?" She asked, knowing she'd likely try to get Santana to eat part of whatever she got anyways.
"Why do I have to talk about it, sounds like you already have all the answers," Santana muttered. "I didn't tell you a lie, anyway, so I don't know why you're going on about telling the truth."
She arrives with Brittany at the coffee shop and slides into a booth towards the back where she can watch everyone come in and have a full view of the room. As the waitress on duty brings them a menu of drink and breakfast specials of the day, Santana's anxiety starts to amp up. She averts her eyes from the menu, her legs jogging up and down under the table. She feels conspicuous and exposed, as though the waitress and the few other customers are all watching her, judging her, waiting to see what she will order and what she will eat. When Brittany speaks it briefly jolts her, and she looks at her for a moment like she has forgotten she is there, her eyes hooded.
"What? Oh, yeah," she said reluctantly, as the question caught up with her. "I guess."
She can tell Brittany really wants her to, and it's hard to tell her no. But her legs don't stop their fidgeting, and her hands start to drum the seat of the booth.
Sounds like you already have all the answers - Brittany knew she was upsetting Santana, probably pushing her farther in the last 24 hours than Rachel or Kurt had ever pushed her. She knew Santana didn't mean it, but the words still stung Brittany, flinching as she slid into the booth.
Brittany grinned at the waitress briefly out of politeness before turning her attention back to the menu in front of her, glancing down at it before training her eyes on Santana. Under the table where their legs brushed, Brittany could feel Santana's bobbing up and down, no doubt a result of their conversation. Slipping her hands under the table, she leaned forward, resting her hands on both of Santana's knees and applying pressure, stopping their bouncing.
"Stop, San," She said gently, letting her thumb skate over the fabric of Santana's jeans. "It's just me. We're going to eat breakfast, then we'll finish our walk or go hang out at the loft or something," She promised, her voice low and reassuring. She kept her hands planted on her legs, gently rubbing up and back down, trying not to focus on how tiny Santana's legs felt.
"Do you want anything particular?" Brittany wondered. At that point, she would've agreed to literally any item Santana suggested, even if she didn't like it. "Or we could just do eggs and toast, too." She added with a nod.
Santana breathes in and out slowly, the gentle pressure of Brittany touching her legs, stroking them, really, settling their jerking to occasional twitches. She wants to cover Brittany's hand with hers and squeeze, but she tries to focus on staying still.
She shook her head mutely when Brittany asked her what she wanted. It seemed like too much to actually name any food with the expectation that she would eat it. She had promised she would try; why was that so damn difficult?
She let Brittany order for them when the waitress came back, mumbling her request for coffee while one hand restlessly picked at a slight hole in her jeans. She feels slightly better when the waitress brings their drinks; it gives her something else to focus on as she wrapped both hands around the mug, enjoying its warmth. She burned her tongue a little on the coffee in her greedy slurp, and even under Brittany's hands her leg muscles twitched, wanting to resume their restless motion.
When the cafe door opened and a group of four young men in college t shirts and hoodies walked in, choosing the table beside them, Santana froze. The anxiety over the anticipation of eating in public now took off anew in a different direction as she began to shiver, their loud voices the only thing she could seen to hear. Her face lost some of it's color and she swallowed several times, trying to force down the huge lump of anxiety now lodged in her throat.
Don't look at them, don't let them look at her. Don't say anything. Play dead.
But her face was taut with her fear, and she grabbed Brittany's hand in one of hers under the table, squeezing, bitten nails digging into Brittany's palm without Santana realizing.
Brittany was pleased enough at Santana's reaction to her hands, satisfied with the level of calm she'd seemed to plateau at. She still looked incredibly nervous and borderline upset, but Brittany knew some things wouldn't go away underneath the calming weight of her hands. "I'll order toast and eggs and you can just have some," Brittany patted her leg warmly, answering her own question when it seemed like Santana wouldn't. Brittany ordered their food, ordered herself orange juice and then repeated Santana's coffee order when the waitress couldn't hear Santana's mumble.
When their drinks were delivered, Brittany only moved her hands to stick her straw in her glass, leaning forward to take a sip and sliding her hands back under the table, as if she needed to hold Santana steady. "Do you like living in the loft?" She wondered, babbling on trying to take Santana's mind off of the fact that they'd just been talking about eating. "Most of my stuff is in LA now, except I don't even really consider that home, I just live with a bunch of dance people and stop there in between tou- hey, hey," Brittany squeezed Santana's leg, seeing the noticeable change in her demeanor, feeling her trembling now under her hand.
"Santana, tell me what's wrong," She coaxed gently, clasping Santana's hand under the table, trying to get her to relax her muscles, running her thumb over the back of her hand. Brittany didn't rush to assume or start guessing, giving Santana the space and time to find words and explain what she was upset about. She assumed it was something that had to do with the food but waiting, her eyes patient for the explanation that she wanted.
Santana doesn't even hear Brittany. She's lost in a tangle of flickered pieces of jagged, brutal memory, coupled with present looming fear. Although none of the young men in the room at all resemble her rapist, one has a baseball hat on, and their loud, posturing joking and engaging with each other seems to directly suck all the air from the room, making it harder and harder for her to breathe. Santana's shaking worked up through her arms and then to her torso until she is hunched, a rigid small figure with all her limbs drawn in close against her center in unconscious effort to stop her shaking and keep in some warmth.
She can't bring herself to say the words, but her eyes are locked towards the table of men.
Brittany's words usually had a noticeable impact on Santana but now, she saw see that they didn't at all, Santana not even reacting to her. Instead, Brittany watched as she seemed to curl even more into herself, clinging to Brittany's hand as though it were the only thing keeping her from falling over the edge. "It's okay," Brittany continued, speaking comforting words regardless of if Santana was actually paying attention.
She never took her eyes off Santana but noticed, after a few seconds, Santana wasn't looking at her anymore. Instead, her glance was cast off to the side, focused on something else entirely. Confused, Brittany turned her head, twisting her body and following Santana's gaze until her eyes landed on the group of men, or even boys - they looked younger than them, even though they were bigger. Slowly, things began to shift into focus for Brittany and she turned back around, shaking her head gently. "Santana, it's okay, they didn't even look over here, they're just here to eat too," She soothed, hands still linked under the table.
Although she was trying, she doubted her words would do enough when Santana had something triggering so close and so instead, she squeezed Santana's hand before pulling hers free briefly, slipping out of the booth and instructing Santana to scoot over, sliding in beside her instead, putting her between Brittany and the wall. "Come on, you're alright," She cooed, setting her hand back on Santana's leg.
Santana automatically and immediately pressed her shoulder and leg against Brittany's when the blonde slide beside her, seeking the comforting contact of her solid, warm body against the cold, trembling state of her own. She shifted her eyes to Brittany's hand on her leg, trying to focus on it, to take in every detail of her pale skin, her shapely nails, the fine lines across the joint of her fingers. She begins to slowly ground herself back into the present, although she feels a little lightheaded, unsteady. She gulps another few swallows of her black coffee and further settles, though she keeps pressed as close against Brittany as she can without actually climbing in her lap.
Then the waitress brings out the plate of food. The toast and eggs also come with some twigs of grapes and cantaloupe slices along with bacon and sausage. Santana stares at the plate, finding the prospect of taking even a bite in public, where everyone could possibly see- where those boys could see- hopelessly daunting. Even the smell of the sausage's grease and the butter on the toast seems to lie on her tongue, making her anxious at the possibility that even smelling the food might cause her to take in some of its calories. She picks up a fork slowly, but instead of using it, clinches it until her knuckle whitens.
"I…I can't." The words are barely audible, small and shamed, and her eyes are hot with suppressed tears. "Brittany, I can't."
Brittany kept her body turned toward Santana, letting her have all of her attention, all of her care, all of her touch where she wanted it. She'd never experienced something scaring Santana in public before but was just following what felt right to do to comfort her and deescalate the situation. At that point, Brittany wasn't even sure that they'd last there until the food came, but Santana being able to press herself against Brittany's body as much as possible seemed to help, at least on the surface level.
She'd forgotten about the food entirely, distracted by the situation that had occurred when the group of guys had come sit down close to them, but the waitress setting the plate down in front of them was a welcome distraction, at least for Brittany. Leaving her left hand firmly planted on Santana's leg, Brittany picked up her fork with her right hand and stabbed a piece of cantaloupe, silently, waiting to see what Santana's reaction would be. Silently, she scooped up eggs next, her body on alert to feel any changes from Santana.
Her eyes followed Santana's hand when she reached for the fork, pleasantly surprised at the thought of her maybe taking a few bites. But just a moment later she heard Santana's broken voice, quiet even though they sat shoulder to shoulder. "Shhh, it's okay," Brittany hummed, rubbing Santana's thigh with her palm, knowing the more worked up Santana got the worse it would be. "Why don't you start with a little bit of fruit," She suggested casually, trying to downplay the situation, still catching Santana stealing looks at the other table. "Just talk to me, tell me why you're feeling upset." Brittany soothed.
Santana's entire body feels cold, almost paralyzed with her shame and anxiety. Critical, judging thought rushes over her, calling herself pathetic, a loser, a complete failure. What kind of person can't just sit in a coffee shop and eat breakfast? What kind of person is scared of someone who doesn't seem to even notice she exists?
Santana tries to swallow through the lump in her throat, unable to imagine food able to move past it without choking her. She holds the fork in the same fierce grip others might hold a weapon as she tries to find words for Brittany to better understand. They won't seem to come; although she knows it is irrational she is afraid if she says the words aloud it will make her fears more likely to be reality, just like she had been with Brittany challenging her last night. She out her right hand slowly over Brittany's leg, slowly tracing the words "baseball hat" on her leg.
She doesn't try to eat. Right now that feels beyond her capability, like the first step to making herself noticeable, making herself take up space. And taking up space means being vulnerable, being open to hurt and judgment and further possible attack.
Brittany continued to try and press calm into Santana's body, methodically breaking off tiny pieces of egg and fruit and bacon and putting them in her mouth, giving Santana the opportunity to follow suit whenever she wants to. She wanted to ask Santana to tell her more about school and what she's learning to try and steer the conversation to something more harmless, but Brittany didn't think Santana would actually speak. She hadn't in a few minutes now, making Brittany skate her hand over her leg and murmur, "It's okay," again.
At first, she thought Santana was just touching her leg for more comfort. Brittany almost put her hand over hers to soothe her when she realized she wasn't just tracing patterns back and forth on her leg, she was writing something. A word. Brittany paused, her gaze trained on her lap as Santana traced. She almost started repeating the letters out loud to help herself figure out what it was, but she wasn't sure if her repeating it aloud would upset Santana and so she stayed silent, watching the word. Base - ll - hat. She frowned for half a second, glancing up Santana before over to the group of guys. Baseball hat. Her eyes landed on the one who was wearing that hat and she nodded, looking back to Santana.
"I get it. I understand," She hummed softly, sliding her left hand behind Santana's back to wrap around her waist. "Just sit here with me for a little okay? We can take the rest of the food home but lets - " Brittany set her fork down and moved her hand to close around the fist Santana was clutching the fork with. "Let go, San," She cooed gently, willing her hand to relax under Brittany's hold. "We're just sitting here, eating breakfast, and there's lots of other people around us here. None of them are even looking at us, they just came to get breakfast like us. And then we're going to back to the loft and they're going to go home and that's all." She whispered, trying to center Santana in the situation. "You're not going to get hurt." Brittany promised, "Just sit here for a minute and breathe with me."
Santana thinks she would choke if she tried to eat anything now. It feels almost impossible to swallow let alone speak. She huddles closer against Brittany's side as Brittany wraps a comforting arm around her, burrowing as close against her as she can as though trying to merge herself into Brittany, to make herself less and to fortify herself with Brittany's strength and solid frame.
She would have outright climbed onto her lap if they weren't in public and she didn't still dread the judgment of others, even others who happened to be triggering to her. She tried to focus on calming her breathing, slowing her heartbeat. Brittany's gentle words and tone are almost like a lullaby, washing over her racing tangle of thought and mass of dark emotion to slowly settle them into somewhat straighter lines and more manageable intensity of feeling. She kept her eyes down on the table as she slowly let go of the fork and reached out to entwine her fingers with Brittany's instead.
When she is finally able to bring words forward they are rushed, her voice tight and dry. "Can we go? Sorry. I'm sorry."
Brittany let her snuggle in close to her side at the table, rubbing her side soothingly where her hand rested around her back. "You're okay, San. No one's even looking at us. Everyone's just out with their friends or their family eating breakfast because the weather's so nice. See that little family with the kids over there?" She prompted, motioning with a tilt of her head, not wanting to take her hand off Santana to point. "Everyone is happy and safe and nothing bad is going to happen to you this morning," She whispered, letting a soothing stream of comforting words and random observations about their surroundings tumble out of her mouth just to distract Santana.
When Santana let go of the fork at Brittany's prompting, Brittany nearly brought their intertwined hands up to her mouth and kissed the back of Santana's hand. It was exactly what she would've done any other time that Santana took her hand, and she was shocked out strong the desire was. But she settled for skating her thumb in soothing circles against her skin, pressing her love there instead.
She didn't think Santana would speak as quickly as she had, her voice croaking and scared. "Don't be sorry, lets take the food with us and get the check, okay?" Brittany hummed easily, signaling to the waitress. When she came over, Brittany easily requested the check and a to go box please, paying no mind to the fact that her breakfast partner was curled into her side, half a step from laying down in her lap entirely. The waitress, thankfully, brought the check and a to go box at the same time and Brittany moved quickly, dropping a bill on the table, not wanting to wait for her card to be returned before easily sliding the rest of their uneaten breakfast into a styrofoam container, slipping it into a bag and knotting it, slipping her hand through the loop.
"Come on," She coaxed, sliding out of the booth first and holding her arm open for Santana to slide out beside her, standing sideways so Brittany's body was more or less blocking the party of guys behind them. She pushed Santana in front of her, her hand wrapped around Santana's upper arm until they burst out the door into the fresh air and Brittany finally felt like she could breathe again.
Santana huddled close to Brittany as they leave, keeping her eyes on the back of Brittany's head firmly to avoid seeing anything or anyone else. She is still pale but beginning to be grounded enough to feel embarrassed and angry with herself for her reaction. What kind of person can't even have coffee without having a meltdown? What kind of person can't eat a piece of cantaloupe in public? Is she even a person anymore at all? How can she feel like too much and not enough at the same time?
As she and Brittany step into the bright natural light of the sunny morning, the world seems larger and safer, and she can breathe fuller breaths. Brittany's hand is wrapped around her arm, and Santana feels like it is physically transmitting caring and support. She takes a deep breath, and then on impulse turns and wraps her arms tight around Brittany, hugging her hard with wordless thanks. She feels a strong rush of love for the woman then that she tries not to think about too much.
It will be so, so hard when Brittany leaves again.
Brittany was grateful to be outside, feeling somehow guilty that Santana had had such a stressful morning already, even though Brittany thought it would be a cute breakfast at a coffee shop. It was the first time she'd really seen Santana get upset about something that wasn't related to them at all and didn't come from them, and it gave her a peak into what Santana's mind was really like. Brittany hadn't even noticed the men come in and sit down, and if not for Santana, she probably wouldn't have even paid attention to them at all. But for Santana, those men coming in marked a change in her whole morning.
She was about to pull Santana to the side to check on her and make sure she was okay, but before she could even open her mouth to speak, she felt Santana throw her body against hers, her arms wrapping tight around her, her face buried in Brittany's hair. It was, from what Brittany could remember, only the third time she'd reached for her, the first being when she'd needed to feel that she was real, the second she'd done when she was asleep, Brittany not even sure that Santana knew she'd reached for her. But this - this was intentional, she was hugging Brittany hard, clutching onto her like she'd fly away if she didn't. Brittany realized her mouth was hanging open, shocked, but she quickly felt it spread into a smile.
She hesitated for only a second before wrapping her arms around Santana in return, the food dangling forgotten from her wrist. Sighing contentedly, Brittany would've loved to stay there all day. It was a glimmer of their past relationship, when Santana was never afraid to touch her or reach for what she wanted and needed from Brittany. She held her there, against her body, trying to force every ounce of comfort and safety into Santana's bones, as if she could make her stronger on love alone. Giggling, Brittany felt her heart thump in excitement, tucking her head down against Santana's. Even though they had only just stepped out of the diner, Brittany felt automatically lighter, like in that moment, things really would be okay. "Thank you," Brittany blurted, as if Santana had just given her a gift by wrapping her arms around her, "Are you alright?"
Wrapped in Brittany's arms, Santana does feel lighter too, warm and cared for in the familiar way that had always felt so good and safe to her. She sniffles a little, pulling herself fully back together, and nods at Brittany, hesitantly at first, then more firmly. She doesn't move; if it was up to her she would let Brittany carry her home. She is not feeling it yet, but she knows she will "crash" physically and emotionally after the anxiety attack, although Brittany had helped stave it off from getting very severe. Her own body and brain drain her daily, but in Brittany's arms she feels like she gains back strength.
Right before she pulls back, she pushes herself, just a little, feeling she owes Brittany a better explanation for her behavior. Brittany has been here for her every moment since coming, without demanding more than she can give. She can try to give her one small piece of the puzzle she keeps tight inside herself when it comes to the details of that horrible night.
"He was…he had a baseball hat on. When he."
She doesn't finish the sentence, doesn't think she needs to. Reaching for Brittany's hand, she slips her fingers into hers, tugging her to start walking home.
As much as she knew the embrace was helping to comfort Santana, it was comforting Brittany too. The feelings of uncertainties and fear that had stuck with her the entire plane ride to New York had mostly faded, but their remnants still hung around, looming and dark in Brittany's mind. She wanted so badly to help Santana, and while she had seen Santana reacting positively to her over the passed day, she still feared what she was doing wouldn't be enough, that she'd fail somehow. And she wanted so, so badly to succeed, for Santana. She owed it to her after everything that she'd done in the past.
While she knew if she'd never left Santana would never have been in the bar, she couldn't help but wonder, if she'd been there for Santana to come home to, if it'd been her tending to Santana in the days after and not Rachel and Kurt, if Santana would be different. She knew it wasn't fair to torture herself like that, but she also knew there was a hint of truth in her worries. Santana, it was very likely, would be different, and the entire situation would've been different, and maybe, it would've never gotten this bad to begin with. But Brittany hadn't been there, and she had to accept that she could only do what she could being there now.
She'd started shifting her weight back and forth from foot to foot with Santana in her arms, tilting them left and right in a soothing rock without ever moving her feet. Brittany felt Santana loosen her arms and thought she was about to pull away, only to have her tighten them again a minute later. Brittany kept her arms around her, hearing Santana's hushed voice against the fabric of her sweatshirt - he had a baseball cap on. When he. She didn't finish the words, but she didn't have to say anything else, Brittany knew.
She was dumbfounded that Santana had said it, telling her the first tiny, tiny detail of what had happened to her that night. Although it was so small, it seemed huge, it was basically the only thing Brittany knew about the night at all, besides what Rachel and Kurt had told her about Santana's injuries. She was grateful Santana chose to take her hand so she didn't feel the shiver that rolled down Brittany's spine. Instead, Brittany fell into step beside her, taking a second to find her voice. Part of her was horrified at the detail, as if the night would just keep getting worse in her mind the more details Santana gave her, part of her was furious - furious at that man who made it so Santana couldn't even see a baseball cap without getting upset, but part of her was so, so grateful that Santana had just done that, just taken such a big step towards her. Squeezing Santana's hand, she was surprised to realize that her own eyes were watering a little.
"Hey," She said softly, glancing at Santana as they walked. "That was a really, really big deal that you just told me that." Her eyes were sad, but she was smiling, grateful that Santana had let her in, willing now, more than ever, to fight alongside her, to fight for her. "Thank you for telling me that. I'm sorry you got upset in there. But you found a way to tell me what was wrong, even in there when you didn't want to speak. And that's a big deal too." She said, shaking their joined hands a little, wanting Santana to be proud of the steps she was taking.
Santana looked over at Brittany with some unusual shyness, her lips quirked into something partly a smile, partly a worried twist as she heard the emotion in Brittany's voice and saw it reflected in her eyes. She hates making Brittany sad more than anything; seeing Brittany sad makes her fierce and furious with the need to fix whatever got to her, usually. When she is the reason, it's that much harder to see.
"I'm tired of feeling like this," she said quietly. "I want to do better. I want to feel better. So…I'm trying. It's just so hard."
She is not quite as on edge for herself; instead she is focused on Brittany, worried she is affecting her. Her hand reaches up to briefly touch Brittany's face.
"Don't be sad."
As they walked, she saw her own sadness reflected in Santana's eyes, a different type of sadness than what she usually saw there. She smiled at her, swiping her hand across her eyes quickly. She knew she couldn't focus on it- she couldn't let the darkness get to her too, then it would dragging down both of them. "I know," She said softly, trying to understand as much as she could from where she stood on the sidelines, watching Santana fight with her trauma.
"You're doing amazing," Brittany said, and she meant it. Brittany knew she'd been pushing Santana since she'd gotten there, she was testing her boundaries, testing how much Santana would let her help. "I've been pushing you." It wasn't a question, but a statement. They both knew it, Santana knew it because Santana was the one letting her do it, much more than Rachel or Kurt. "But you won't always feel like this," She promised, silently hoping she was right. She knew what Santana was up against was horrible and dark and triggering, but she also knew Santana was fighting like Hell against it, in the way she let Brittany in, in the way she still dragged herself to class, in the ways that she chose to let Brittany in, even on the smallest of details.
When Santana touched her face, Brittany brought her free hand up, covering Santana's hand and holding it there, letting her eyes flutter closed for a moment. "I'm not sad," She said softly, then sighed. "Okay, well I am sad, because I'm sad this happened to you and I wished I'd been in the city when it happened even though I know that I wasn't." Brittany confessed. "But I'm happy too, more happy than sad, because I'm happy Kurt called me and I'm happy you didn't send me away and I'm happy I get to be here from now on." She nodded, meaning everything she said. "You're not making me sad, you're making me happy. I just hate that you're sad too." She explained, knowing both of their emotions were complicated and tied up in themselves and each other.
Brittany had been pushing her, there was no doubt about that, but as difficult and painful as that has been, Santana is starting to feel for the first time that maybe it's possible she can feel different one day, or at least some of some days. Twenty-four hours ago that would have seemed impossible. She had thought she was trying as hard as she could and was still downing slowly; maybe the problem had been as partly in how she tried.
Still, amazing seems a strong comment. But Brittany has never lied to her, and she can see sincerity in her gaze.
"We're gonna have to disagree on the amazing," Santana muttered. She listens to Brittany's explanation of her feelings and nods, understanding, even as she somewhat deliberately corrects her, more for her own determined self reminder as for Brittany.
"I'm glad you're here too. For now. For the time being. Because you are going to have to go back."
It's selfish, she knows, but God she wishes she could shut up and let Brittany stay. But that wouldn't be best for Brittany. She should have her big, bright life onstage that she had worked so hard and shone so brilliantly to achieve.
Brittany rolled her eyes when Santana tried to downplay her own accomplishments, still grinning. Although it was sad and gut-wrenching to ever even consider what happened to Santana, Brittany knew Santana was even stronger than Rachel and Kurt knew based on how Santana acted around her and what she showed her. While she still knew she had a lot to learn about things that set Santana off and how she reacted to certain things, Brittany was already feeling a hesitant optimism about the situation.
As they continued to walk hand in hand back to the loft, Brittany frowned. "Santana I told you this isn't temporary," She shook her head. "I don't even know if they'd let me back on tour, they already reblocked the numbers without me." Brittany shrugged, overall unconcerned. She'd been on almost three full tours and the mental and physical affects it was taking on her body did not go unnoticed.
"I'm not just going to leave." She repeated. "I can dance in New York, I've done it before." Truly, Brittany hadn't really put much thought towards anything other than Santana and how she could help her, but she assumed at some point she'd have to think about going back to teaching and possibly getting an apartment. It all seemed so far off, so far away from the little world where they walked hand in hand down the street together. She didn't know what came next but she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she wouldn't, couldn't leave Santana. She didn't even want to consider what it would do to Santana, but she knew it would ruin her too. There was no way that she could just leave her again, especially not like this. Brittany could barely live with the guilt of leaving her once. She knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she did it a second time. That, and her sheer worry about Santana made it impossible to ever really think about leaving her again.
For the first time, Brittany's steady maintaining that she is NOT going back on tour, that she is staying right here in New York with Santana, for Santana, actually sinks in to Santana. For the first time, she really hears her, how much she has thought about this, that this is no longer a whim or impulse to Brittany but a determined plan. She halts, actually stopping walking and turning around to stare at her in shock.
Yeah, Brittany had been saying that from the first hour. But this is the first time Santana actually takea in and believes that she intends to follow through. Confusion, disbelief, and guilt mingled with a small furl of happiness and hope warred plainly in her eyes as she responded slowly.
"Wait…you're really not going back, like, for real?" She blurted, like this was the very first time she heard. "But…you can't stay, Brittany. Not because of this. Not because of me."
Brittany stopped when she felt a pull on her arm, thinking that Santana might've gotten scared by something or was actually upset that she was insisting she was staying. But that wasn't what she saw - she saw a hundred different emotions plainly written across Santana's face, none of them anger.
Eyebrows raised, she studied Santana's expression. She was confused by what Brittany said, but she had that look in her eyes that told Brittany she was desperately trying not to get her hopes up about something that she really wanted. And, Brittany realized in the same moment, what Santana really wanted was her.
When Santana spoke, she smirked, shaking her head. "I told you I was staying." She said softly, their hands still joined. She waited for Santana to continue speaking, trying to fight the grin that was quickly making its way onto Brittany's face. "Why not?" She wondered blatantly, knowing Santana wouldn't have an answer, and if she did, it wouldn't be a very good one. "I'm not staying because of this. Or because of you. I'm staying because of me. Because I want to stay with you and I don't want to be an ocean away from people anymore," Brittany shrugged simply, like it wasn't a big decision to make at all.
Santana blinks at her, still trying to process and believe what she's heard. She holds Brittany's hand with a looser grip, not quite pulling away, and bites her lip.
"I know, but I figured you would come to your senses and go back. I mean, you chose to go in the first place for a reason, you had to want it. You chose to take the new offer for the same reason. So why would you give it up? Besides you have to be doing it for me. Doing it to stay with me is doing it for me and because of what happened. And you shouldn't. It isn't worth it, I'm not worth it with what you could have had. You're going to realize that when it's too late and then you'll be sorry. And then you'll want to go, and-" she stopped for a moment, blinking again, trying to shove down rising emotion before it completely takes over. When she speaks again, her voice is very soft; she isn't sure if she wants Brittany to hear but speaks anyway.
"You can't tell me you're staying and leave again. I can't go through that again."
Brittany felt the conversation tip on its axis before Santana even spoke, the look on her face still bewildered but now, a little doubtful. She felt Santana's grip loosen in her hand but didn't let it slip out, instead, she held on tighter, her head tilted, waiting for Santana to say something, to explain the look on her face.
When she spoke, Brittany swallowed, hard. "I -," She cut herself off when she saw Santana blinking hard, knowing that there were probably tears pressing against her throat just like there were tears pressing against Brittany's throat. Santana broke her heart all over again with her words, outlining her own nonexistent self worth, as if Brittany couldn't really see it, as if Brittany was somehow blind to how worthless Santana was, as least from her own perspective. She realized, as she listened, that she was shaking her head in silent disagreement to Santana's words. She would spend the rest of her life proving to Santana how worth it she was if she had to. It seemed like a small challenge to overcome when it meant she got to spend forever with her.
You can't tell me you're staying and leave again. I can't go through that again. Brittany's bottom lip quivered, but just once, and she held onto Santana's hand even tighter. They lapsed into a silence, Brittany clearing her throat before she spoke, a newfound determination steeling her resolve. When she spoke, it was a single question, her voice surprisingly steady for the emotion swimming in her eyes. "You think I'd make the worst mistake of my life twice?" She wondered. In a million ways, she was realizing how wrong she'd been in setting Santana free. She still wanted the best for Santana, but she realized that their definitions of the best didn't overlap. And she knew that the time she spent without Santana she was sadder than ever. And, even though they'd only been back together for 24 hours, it was a mistake that she already knew she'd never make again.
Brittany is holding her hand harder, and Santana squeezes back automatically, her eyes zeroed in on Brittany; although part of her wants to hide and push away her feelings, downplay and degrade them as she normally does, she can't now. She watches Brittany's eyes well and has to blink harder and faster against tears threatening more and more urgently to fall. But she cannot tell at first if Brittany is sad because she recognizes the "truth" of Santana's words and is about to pull back, make a new plan that doesn't include her…or what she can barely bring herself to acknowledge she even wants so much.
And then Brittany speaks again, and Santana's eyes widen, her body growing still as she hears everything that simple question says. Brittany is sorry for the choice she made… Brittany thinks it was a mistake. Brittany wants to undo it. Not just for what happened to her, but even before.
Brittany thought she would be worth turning down work with Beyonce. Not out of pity or sadness for her, but for her. For Santana herself.
The tears spill over then, and a breathy sob escapes her. She is smiling through trembling lips, but sniffing and crying, clutching hard to Brittany's hands. She's out in the middle of the sidewalk making a scene, and she doesn't even care.
Brittany wishes she hadn't left. Brittany wants to stay now. And Santana wants nothing more.
Brittany felt the burning concentration of Santana's eyes on her but she didn't squirm, she stayed still and determined, letting her question hang in the air between them. Her mind was spinning, but at the same time she was ready to argue any point Santana pushed back at her with. She knew, regardless of what Santana said, that she wasn't going to leave, no matter if Santana tried to push her away or freeze her out. Brittany would stay. If it took one day, if it took more, that didn't matter, she knew her decision had been made when she first stepped into the loft.
And then, Santana burst, her tears spilling over and her body racking in one, forceful sob that cracked out of her chest. Brittany sighed in relief at the smile that she saw on Santana's lips, although she could feel her shaking. Brittany was too, nervous energy coursing through her at their topic of conversation. She hadn't known what Santana would say, but she was grateful that it seemed then, that she believed her. Whatever Brittany had said had seemed to prompt Santana into believing that Brittany would stay, and Brittany counted that as the second big step they'd taken that morning.
Pulling her hands out of Santana's, Brittany stepped forward, clasping Santana around the waist and lifting her up, swinging her in a single, graceful circle as she laughed. "Told you," She grinned when she set her back down, her cheeks aching from smiling. She let her hands trail up, cupping Santana's face so she can brush the tears off of it. "Do you believe me?" She asked, her hands against Santana's cheeks, smiling, but her voice low and serious, wanting the truth from her.
Santana laughed and cried at once in a sputtering burst as Brittany lifted and spun her with ease. With Brittany she feels small in a different way than she normally does, in a way that makeshifts her feel protected and cherished rather than vulnerable and powerless. She giggles again, sniffling, and nods, still smiling, slightly breathless as Brittany sets her back down. She leans into Brittany's touch on her face slightly, almost nuzzling against the loving touch, as she nods, tentative at first, then more firmly, her voice a little shaky still as she answers.
"Yeah. I…yeah."
Her heart fills bigger and fuller than just a minute ago, and though her heart is beating fast, it is more with relief and joy than fear now.