Together we will rise Chapter 28, a glee fanfic

A few days after adopting Mila, Santana woke up with the immediate feeling that her day was not going to go well. Even before she attempted to open her eyes, she was aware of her body's sharp ache throughout her muscles, particularly concentrated in her stomach with cramping pains. Something was wrong.

She had slept restlessly in the night, tossing and turning and waking up several times, sweaty and yet always grasping out for Brittany, not wanting to let her go no matter how much warmer her body heat against her made her feel. Now as she drifted back into consciousness again, Santana groaned to herself, keeping her eyes tightly shut in an effort to will away her discomfort. She had the feeling that if she allowed one more of her senses to come into play, it would overwhelm her already stressed body into an overdrive.

She swallowed, aware of an excess of saliva in her mouth, and tried to burrow further into their blankets, despite her heated skin. The slight movement sent fresh aches through her limbs, and the pain in her stomach became a steady churning that intensified into outright nausea.

What the hell? Was this PMS? She wasn't due to have her period again so soon, and this seemed more extreme than she remembered being used to.

Well, fine. She just wasn't going to move until it went away. She was going to stay right exactly where she was until it went away, because if she willed it strongly enough, then it would just have to, that was all. If she just-

But then her stomach gave an especially brutal twist, and Santana bolted up in bed, knowing immediately she had very limited time to get to the bathroom. She staggered to her feet and was barely able to make it onto her knees in front of the toilet before she vomited, her body shaking as she recovered from the effort of it.

Her face drained of color, she remained hunched in front of the toilet, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had always hated to throw up, even during the times she had deliberately made herself do it on occasion during the height of her eating disorder in high school. It made her feel small and weak and helpless in all the ways she hated most. And just as much as she hated vomiting, Santana hated being sick- and especially, not knowing what had caused it.

What if there was something really wrong with her? Really wrong- so wrong, Santana didn't even want to let the thought arise as a word in her brain?

In the days after Santana's surprise, her spirits certainly seemed to be lifted, which was both a good thing for Santana and a precious thing for Brittany to witness. It seemed that being able to focus on taking care of and playing with Mila was a good distraction for Santana, leaving her less time to worry or stress about her own life and channel her energy into something that was fun for her. She also found that, after Mila continued to warm up to Santana, Santana was a little better at not constantly shadowing Brittany in the apartment at all times and was less focused on tracking Brittany's every move. Of course, they were nowhere near either of them being able to leave the apartment without the other, but Brittany was happy that Santana didn't automatically make herself jump up to follow Brittany whenever she went to the kitchen or into their bedroom.

Overall, things were good, for all intents and purposes. Santana was doing well in her classes and seemed to like them, and they'd fallen into the comforting routine of going to Santana's classes and Brittany's classes. They walked almost all the time when the sun was out, something Santana had gradually warmed up to, and Katherine Pierce had started calling Santana for regular check ins just like she called her own daughter, establishing another pillar of support for her.

That particular night, Santana hadn't slept well, which wasn't necessarily a surprise or a bad thing, just something that happened more often than not. Several times, Brittany felt Santana grabbing for her in the night and was quick to pull her against her, sleepily promising that it was okay and mumbling a few words to settle her back to sleep. They seemed to keep that pattern until morning, when Santana finally stilled next to Brittany, hopefully getting some sleep of her own before classes that afternoon. It was the last fleeting thought on Brittany's mind as she also drifted back toward sleep when she felt Santana jump out of bed, her eyes cracking open.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Brittany waited, unsure where Santana went - to the bathroom, to get a glass of water? - until she heard the unmistakable sounds of her getting sick. Sitting up herself, she threw the blanket off before following the sound, appearing in the bathroom doorway to find Santana hunched over the toilet. She frowned. Santana wasn't someone who usually threw up, and Brittany doubted it was related to food with how quickly she'd just jumped up and the fact that they hadn't eaten anything since dinner last night and surely, if Santana was doing this on purpose, she wouldn't have waited so long.

"Oh San," She called softly, taking a step into the bathroom and toward her, "What's the matter, Babe?"

Santana's senses were on high alert in her distressed state, and she felt Brittany approach before she heard her speak. She wiped a shaky hand under her eyes, then her nose, her entire body shuddering as she tried to take a shallow breath in. Tears continued to stream as she gasped out her answer.

"I-I d-dont know!" she stammered, high pitched and sounding much younger than usual. Another spasm of nausea ran through her gut and she leaned back over the toilet, dry heaving. "I d-d-dont knowwww!'

It wasn't news to Brittany that Santana hated throwing up. Santana hated sickness in all forms and basically all bodily fluid freaked her out, even though Brittany knew both of them had made themselves sick intentionally a few times in high school. Her voice sounded childlike and upset, and Brittany pouted, automatically wanting to comfort her but also taking a second to think of what Santana needed in that moment.

"It's okay San, I'm going to get you a glass of water, I'll be right back," Brittany promised calmly, disappearing to the kitchen for only a few seconds before returning with a cool glass of water for her. Sinking down on her knees beside her, she set the water glass on the tile and reached up to flush the toilet, setting a hand on Santana's back between her shoulder blades, gasping at how Santana's shirt was nearly soaked through with sweat and how her body temperature burned under Brittany's palm.

"I think you have a fever, Babe," Brittany hushed as Santana continued to dry heave, moving her hand to gather Santana's hair away from her face, hovering close by. She didn't think anything else would come from Santana's stomach, but she let her try anyway, knowing her stomach was probably cramping up.

"Shhhhhhh," Brittany murmured quietly next to her, "Just keep breathing through your nose, okay? When you feel like you're done you can take a drink of water."

Although Santana was upset, Brittany wasn't alarmed. She was showing all the telltale signs of having a virus of some sort, probably something she'd caught at dance or school, and Brittany was already running her mind through the checklist of how to get her to feel better, knowing Santana hated being sick.

Santana made a faint whine in her throat when Brittany left the room, even as the other girl promised her she would return. She was fighting an inner battle of wanting to cling to her like a koala for comfort and wanting to push her away and insist that Brittany keep her distance. Brittany should keep her distance. If Santana really had something wrong- not just a virus, not just a bug, but something wrong, beyond what they could fix, beyond what she wanted to think about- then Brittany needed to stay away from her.

Because that was what Santana was terrified was wrong. It had been six months, approximately, since the rape. Wasn't that just enough time for symptoms of an STD to show up- anything from hepatitis to HIV? What if she gave it to Brittany? She could never live with herself if she gave it to Brittany. Weren't those things spread by body fluids?

When Brittany returned to the bathroom and knelt beside her, gathering her hair back from her face, Santana ignored the water, afraid drinking it would make her sick again. She tried weakly to duck from Brittany's hands, not quite managing.

"No, don't touch me, you can't touch me," she sniffled. "You have to stay away, I'm gonna give it to you. Go away."

Brittany raised her eyebrows in surprise when Santana tried to shift away from her, insisting that she'd get her sick with whatever she had. It made sense, but not for Santana. If anything, Santana was usually extra-clingy to Brittany when she was sick, and the same could be said for Brittany. They usually never shied away from each other when one of them had something, both mutually understanding that the other person would probably get it to or that they already had been exposed.

"San, it's okay," Brittany laughed lightly, wanting to comfort her, also thinking it was a little silly considering they'd basically been touching each other in some form nonstop and kissing for the past few days meaning, wherever Santana had gotten it, Brittany certainly had been exposed to it already. "I don't feel sick and anyway, if I was going to get sick, I probably already have it. We were just asleep together and we've been touching each other and all the same things and kissing." Brittany pointed out, wanting to calm Santana. "I don't mind getting sick, I just want to help you and make you feel better," She promised.

Santana shook her head roughly, her neck muscles pulling so that she flinched and her head swimming at the gesture.

"Nooo! No, you can't! Not now...it's not the same...no," she tried to tell her, knowing even as she spoke she wasn't making sense, but unable to express herself more clearly then. "No. You can't touch me, you have to stay away!"

She tried to push at Brittany's hands to move from her body and to stand, but her head spun, and she shot a hand forward to brace herself against the toilet tank.

Brittany had meant to calm Santana, but she could see that the realization that she was still so close was making her even more upset still, a furious babble of protest spilling from Santana's mouth. She knew that Santana had to feel awful right then, she looked awful, and Brittany wanted nothing more than to calm her down and put her back to bed for the rest of the day so she could sleep off whatever sickness she was currently battling, but she knew she had to talk Santana off the ledge of not wanting to infect her first.

She let Santana push her hands away, but when Santana nearly collapsed when standing, Brittany was quick to catch her around the ribs, gently settling her again. "Santana," She started again, her voice low and straightforward, feeling Santana's ribs expand under her hands as she continued to cry. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles and her entire body seemed to be covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her hair messy. It broke Brittany's heart to think of how badly she was probably feeling, coupled with how much more upset she was making herself.

"You need to calm down. You probably have a stomach virus or something and it'll go away in a few days. I don't feel sick right now, but even if I did get sick, it's okay." Brittany explained gently, reaching down to pick up the glass of water and hold it up to Santana's mouth. She wasn't sure what it was that was getting Santana so worked up about being sick this time, but Brittany continued doing what she was best at - taking care of her. "We can brush your teeth and then you can take a bath and I'll wash your hair for you." She cooed softly. "Even if you don't want to drink any water, at least rinse your mouth, okay?"

Santana opened her mouth to continue to argue, but a soft sob emerged rather than words. Brittany's arm around her waist is the main reason she's still on her feet, and she wants so badly to burrow into her neck and let herself be held. She knows she can't and shouldn't though, for Brittany, and she tries to keep her body from touching Brittany's as much as possible, even as she is aching to fall into her.

"I-I'll do it," she insisted, even though she doesn't want to move, let alone do the things Brittany had listed. "I can do it. Don't touch me."

Brittany sighed, leaning over to set the water glass on the counter when Santana didn't take a drink from it or even acknowledge it. Her arm was still around Santana's waist, and she could tell that while Santana was actively trying not to touch her, Brittany was still supporting some of her weight and holding her upright.

"I think you need some help doing things today, Babe," Brittany pointed out gently as Santana let out of a soft sob, confused more than anything, but wondering if Santana really did just feel gross and want to be left alone. "But I'll leave you alone if you want me too. Do you want me to start a bath for you? Or just help you back to bed?" She wondered softly, her hand rubbing Santana's side, not paying attention to the fact that Santana was leaning a little away from her.

"Are you really that afraid of giving me a stomach bug?" Brittany asked genuinely, turning so that she was standing in front of Santana, still supporting her around her back but able to meet her teary eyes now, just wanting answers more than anything else.

Santana does not want to be left alone. Even the idea is scary and overwhelming, and she reached out to grasp Brittany's arm before realizing what she was doing and dropping it like a hot potato. She did want a bath, since she was sweaty and hot and felt disgusting, but she was afraid of putting her germs in the tub or bed. But she already had probably, even if she didn't seem sick before- didn't she have symptoms only after being sick a while if she was infected?

She blinked several times, trying to avoid Brittany's eyes, and closed hers in the effort, pressing her lips together tight before answering. "I...this is worse," she managed. "It might be worse. Please. Don't touch me, I don't want to hurt you."

Brittany glanced down as Santana grabbed her arm, truly not wanting her to let go but watching as she did. "You're allowed to touch me, San." Brittany reminded quietly as Santana tried to come up with what to say, evidently torn between wanting to touch Brittany and wanting to push her away. The whole thing confused Brittany - usually, when they were sick, Santana never shied away from her and wanted more than anything for Brittany to take care of her, even before everything had happened. They'd never had any boundaries, and it felt strange to Brittany that Santana was putting one up just then.

When Santana finally did speak, confusing knit Brittany's brows together. "Worse? What could be worse than a stomach bug?" She wondered. "Babe, I really just think its a 48-hour virus or something, how do we know it's anything worse? We can just see how you feel in a few days, but I'm sure you'll feel better even by tomorrow maybe an- hurt me?" Santana's words were swift to confuse Brittany, "I can get sick, it won't hurt me. It will probably just be how you feel and then in a few days I'll be better." She promised, confused by how severe Santana seemed to regard this particular virus.

At Brittany's words, meant to reassure, about her sickness being no big deal, that Santana was allowed to touch her and make her sick too, Santana cracked. Her features crumbling, she started to cry more heavily, her body falling into Brittany even as she tried to keep her head as far from her as possible.

"B-but it m-might not go away!" She tried to explain, almost wailing. "It m-might be forever, and you c-could get it, and you c-could DIE! I could kill you! It could b-be way, way worse...I don't want to kill you!"

She shuddered again, both in fear and renewed pain, and managed, "You...you might be like...like Angel. Not Mimi."

The person off Rent who had died of Aids, and the person who had survived it. It seemed easier to say their names than that hugely scary word.

Brittany pouted when Santana cracked, but felt semi-relieved that she was making less of an effort to keep herself away from Brittany. "Shhhhh, Babe, I know you don't feel well," Brittany soothed, running a hand over Santana's back as she cried.

She let Santana get her thoughts out, her senseless fears coming through her tears, stuttering over her words as she trembled against Brittany's body. She could feel her fear, way too much fear for a simple stomach bug. "Okay, okay," She soothed, her brow furrowing at the RENT reference. Her mind was spinning, not expecting this reaction from Santana.

"I'm not going to kill you and I'm not going to die," Brittany soothed, deciding that was the first hurdle that they needed to get over and the most pressing thing contributing to Santana getting upset. "It's going to go away in a few days and you'll feel much better, I promise," She cooed, hugging Santana to her for a moment before reaching over and starting the bath faucet, making sure to keep one arm around Santana. Her mind was rolling over why Santana could be so upset over something so simple, but she was coming up empty, deciding to focus on making Santana feel better and getting her into a calm space.

"Come on," She hushed, pulling her shirt over her head before gently coaxing Santana's shift off, making sure to be gentle as she knew her body was tender and achy. She worked off Santana's shorts and underwear next, kicking off her own shortly after, knowing she didn't want to separate herself from Santana in that moment and, more than anything, Santana probably needed the contact. Brittany went first, stepping over the lip of the bathtub, her hand in Santana's to help her in next, settling her in the water so that they sat facing each other in the warm, soothing water.

"Babe," Brittany said, arranging her legs under the water and beckoning Santana forward so that she could be close to her, sliding a hand behind her neck and drawing her forward so that she could lean her forehead against Santana's, wanting to quiet her cries. "It's okay. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. It's okay if you're sick," She hushed.

Santana sniffled, letting her head loll into Brittany, so she is taking on a bit more of her weight. Her intense fear and anxiety is actually more difficult to get through than feeling sick in general, and she continues to fight her urge to cling versus pull back as Brittany hugs and comforts her. She shivered as Brittany undressed her, now cold when just a short time ago she had been uncomfortably hot.

She lets Brittany draw her into the bath, the warm water feeling good against her skin and relaxing her slightly. As Brittany arranges her body so she is facing her, forehead to forehead, Santana tries to stop crying, taking several gulping breaths.

She wants to explain, but it feels impossible to say so that Brittany can understand if she doesn't now. She shouldn't be touching Brittany, she knows, but she makes herself ignore that inner alarm just one, slowly tracing the letters HIV on Brittany's inner arm before looking up with brimming eyes to catch her response.

Brittany watched Santana attentively as she struggled to calm herself down, offering soothing hushes as she stroked the skin at the back of Santana's neck. "Shhhh, I've got you," She hushed, "Just keep breathing for me, it's okay."

The bath water was extra warm, their skin soft as their bodies glided against each other in the water. She hoped Santana would calm down enough to relax in the bath and let Brittany wash her hair and then tuck her in on the couch with a blanket. She couldn't see Brittany letting her put her back to bed, knowing she'd fight sleep after recently getting so upset, but the couch was typically a safe area that Santana let herself relax on without much protest.

She let Santana cry against her for a few more minutes before she saw her lift her hand, bringing a trembling finger to the inner crook of Brittany's elbow. It was contact that Santana was initiating, so Brittany was automatically surprised by it, but she was even more surprised at what Santana traced along her arm. "HI, hiv? HIV? I don't know what that means, San. What are you- wait," Brittany paused, glancing from her arm to Santana's eyes, which were full of terror and locked on hers. "HIV like Aids?" Her eyebrows were raised so high she was sure she looked ridiculous, but she was dumbfounded, looking back and forth from her arm to Santana, trying to connect the dots.

Santana's tracing hand was trembling against Brittany's arm, and she held her breath, waiting for her to understand. When Brittany puzzled through what she was spelling, then spoke in an outburst of somewhat loud disbelief, more tears emerged, and Santana managed a small nod. She let go of Brittany's arm, wiping her eyes, but her chest is tight with anxiety and she is beginning to find it hard to breathe. She bends over slightly, her breathing coming in shorter, shallow spurts as she begins to spiral towards a panic attack. If she had anything left in her stomach she was certain she would have been sick again just from Brittany saying the words aloud.

Brittany's head was cloudy with confusion and Santana's confirmation of what she meant didn't help much with clearing up the details, if anything, it only confused her more. She stared for a moment, her mouth partially agape, before she realized Santana was going to panic, that Santana already was panicking, and she had to intervene before she let whatever thoughts that were running through her mind take over.

"Hey, San," Brittany hushed, reaching to lift her chin so Santana can't curl into herself, holding Santana's face in her hands to center her. "Shhhhh, look at me. You do not have HIV, you're okay. You just caught a bug, Babe. It's nothing like that at all," Even saying those words out loud seemed crazy to Brittany, but she knew Santana needed the reassurance and that it was something she'd thought about a lot, judging from how her realization of being sick turned instantly to HIV.

She held her face in her hands, gently stroking Santana's teary cheek, their faces just inches apart and she continued to try to sooth her. "Talk to me, San." Brittany cooed, her voice barely above a whisper. "How did you get to this? Where is this coming from?"

Santana's eyes locked with Brittany's, wide, wet, and still flashing with fear. Brittany's eyes in turn are intensely empathetic, her hands on her face gentle and loving, and gradually this combination helps Santana's breathing slow, though she still has quiet tears slipping down her cheeks. In spite of herself she reaches to cover Brittany's hands with hers, needing the extra contact as she tries to make herself say aloud the words that are so difficult to even think.

"Because...what happened. Him. He could...I could...it might have, it might just be s-showing up now. He m-might have made me sick."

She didn't remember it, because she had been in a state of shock and hysteria too intense to form many memories, and so her testing for STDs and the phoned results later, as well as taking the morning after pill in the hospital, weren't memories Santana had maintained.

She held Santana's eyes as they sat in the warm bathwater, her gaze even and steady, a safe place for Santana to land as she warred with her fears and emotions. "You're okay," She repeated a few more times, "You don't have HIV, it's just a stomach bug. I know you don't feel well, but we're going to finish our bath and wash our hair and put on comfy clothes and lay on the couch together. You're alright," Brittany hushed.

She let them lapse into silence for a few moments, watching Santana try and gather her thoughts along with her courage before she could speak, to shed more light on why she was so convinced she had a disease. Brittany nodded as she spoke, hearing her out and validating her emotions, waiting until Santana was finished before she spoke.

"I know you're scared, Babe, but that happened way too long ago for you to be getting sick now." Brittany soothed, wracking her brain for anything she learned in health class or sex ed. "Your body would've felt different before this and you would've known," Brittany promised, wanting to give Santana the peace of mind that she so desperately needed. "They gave you stitches at the hospital and made sure you were okay, and if you want, we can call Rachel and ask if they ran any tests and things like that at the hospital," Brittany offered, not sure if Rachel would have any more insight than Santana had. "This is not HIV, Santana. It's a stomach bug, and you're going to drink a lot of juice and take a lot of naps on me and then before you know it you'll be all better."

Santana hung onto Brittany's eyes with her own, wanting desperately to believe. She tried to process her reassurances, her mind working slightly delayed in her upset, but snapped to attention when Brittany mentioned Rachel.

"I am not talking to Berry about this," she said adamantly, new strength in her words and expression from the intensity of her feelings about it. "It's bad enough talking to her about anything normal, I'm not talking to her about- this," she repeated a little more uncertainly.

As she tried to accept Brittany's words, Santana let out another breath, suddenly aware of her body again and feeling anew its cramping and weakness. She let herself lean forward to rest her head on Brittany's shoulder, exhaling unevenly.

"Are you sure?" She asked softly.

Brittany could feel the burning intensity of Santana's gaze, the dependence with which Santana looked at her, needing her to make it okay, to lead Santana back to emotional stability and calm, to quell the storm inside of her and make everything right in the world again, and Brittany was determined to do exactly that, no matter what it required of her.

"Okay, okay," Brittany laughed, "You don't have to talk to her, but I can text her just asking about what happened at the hospital," Brittany offered, "I still don't really know, there was so much going on the day I came back that I don't know if they told me all the details," She confessed honestly. It'd been hard for her, getting so much information secondhand and having to have someone else fill in the details of Santana's life. She knew so much about Santana - her height, her date of birth, her allergies, her fears and needs, every little thing, to the point where Santana often looked to her during therapy to confirm things about herself, as if Brittany knew her even better. But there was the gap in time, and Brittany knew it was one she could never fill.

Humming contentedly, Brittany welcomed the additional content, letting Santana rest her head heavy on her shoulder. "I'm not sure what you have," Brittany answered, always fully honest with Santana, "But it seems like a normal virus. We'll just keep an eye on your symptoms and see if you develop anymore. If it's a virus, they probably won't give you medicine, but if you keep feeling sick, we can go to urgent care in a few days. It won't be like a hospital and we'll leave the same day, if we go." Brittany reassured her instantly, knowing Santana was generally against any and all doctors, but wanting to reassure her. "But I am sure you'll be okay, and I am sure that nothing that's wrong with you right now has anything to do with what happened to you." She let her hands map across Santana's bare back, gently scooping up little handfuls of the warm water and letting it cascade down Santana's back and across her shoulder blades to calm her.

Santana exhaled again, not wanting to think about Rachel, or that day in the hospital. It seemed somehow both an eternity ago, with so much having changed, and like barely a moment ago at all. How could one terrible day have changed her and her life so much?

She closed her eyes, letting Brittany rub her back, the tight muscles gradually easing under her steady touch. The warm water helped too, and her stomach's knots began to loosen slowly. She let her weight come to rest more fully against Brittany, nearly climbing into her lap, and finally gave in fully to her urge from earlier to mold herself close to her.

"Don't want to go to the doctor," she mumbled, too tired from her earlier crying to fuss about the possibility as much usual. "I don't want to go anywhere. I just want to be with you."

Now she definitely sounds more like her usual self when sick.

Santana grumbled softly, eyes still closed, but allowed her now heavy limbs to be manipulated by Brittany until she was turned with her back to her. She kept her eyes closed, reveling in the soothing, gentle touch of Brittany's hands in her hair and on her head as she washed her hair. She was nearly lulled to sleep by the time Brittany had finished and let her body lean back against her chest as Brittany washed her own hair. With her sweat washed clean off her skin and the warmth of the water stopping her chills, Santana feels close to okay.

Her thoughts drift to the classes that Brittany is supposed to teach today, the classes she herself has in the afternoon, and she murmurs to her. "Who's going to do our…stuff?"

She doesn't really clarify further, assuming Brittany will understand.

She washed Santana's hair with a practiced, gentle hand, knowing that she was both sick and emotional and needed all the extra loving touches she could get that day. As she worked, they lapsed into a comfortable silence, giving Brittany the chance to process the fact that Santana truly had thought she was infected with a disease when she realized she was sick, even so many months after the attack. It made her heart clench to think of Santana's fear and want to protect Brittany, even though what Santana really wanted was Brittany's physical comfort.

Settling Santana back against her chest, Brittany was quick and efficient in washing her own hair before gently helping both of them to a standing position, this time turning the shower on as the tub drained to rinse their hair and bodies, looping her arms around Santana's waist under the warm spray, knowing she was calm now but also probably still shaky on her feet. "We have no stuff today," Brittany whispered into her temple, where her lips were pressed. "You can send emails to your professors when you feel better and I'll have someone sub for me today." She answered easily, knowing they had commitments but also knowing neither commitment was more important than Santana feeling better. She held them under the spray a bit longer before reaching to turn it off, grabbing a towel for Santana and a towel for herself, carefully wrapping Santana in a towel and tucking it in. "We can just cuddle on the couch today," Brittany explained in place of them having to do any commitments.

Santana wrapped her arms around Brittany's waist, fully letting her weight settle against her. She trusts Brittany to hold her up. She knows Brittany has never let her fall and never will. Eyes still closed, she gives a very faint tremor of a smile when Brittany kisses her forehead, acknowledging that Brittany is right. They can cancel everything. She can have this day with Brittany and that's all. Right now, that's all she could possibly want.

She is further comforted by Brittany's easy handling of her body, the way she lifts her out of the tub and wraps the towel around her to dry her. Brittany cares for her so effortlessly, so automatically and without any resentment or strain to it. There is nothing but love in her touch, and Santana lets herself soak it in, no matter how unworthy she may sometimes feels she is of it.

Turning towards Brittany, towel tucked in place, she wraps her arms back around her before Brittany can even start to dry herself, clinging to her middle and burying her face in her chest. "Don't go anywhere."

Brittany grinned when Santana threw her arms around her, returning the embrace as Santana tucked her head into her chest, rubbing Santana's body over the towel. "That's easy," Brittany grinned at Santana's request, having no plans to separate from her, especially not while she was sick. "I like it better when you're not afraid to touch me when you need it," Brittany mused, letting Santana soak in a few minutes of comfort as she rested her cheek against the bare skin of Brittany's chest above her towel. Santana's vulnerability and how she didn't mind expressing her needs to Brittany most of the time was forever one of Brittany's favorite things about their relationship, and each time Santana reached for her, she felt reinvigorated in her constant effort to make sure Santana felt loved and wanted at all times.

"Let's brush our hair and put new pajamas on and then we can keep doing this," Brittany coaxed softly, patting Santana's backside gently over her tower before stepping behind her to apply leave in conditioner to her hair, brushing through it a few times to make sure it wasn't knotted. She did the same to her own hair, letting that be the extent of their 'getting ready for the day', knowing they were both about to spend most of their day cuddling and being lazy, which is exactly what Santana's body probably needed.

Putting away the brush and leave in conditioner, Brittany laced her fingers with Santana's as she guided them to the bedroom, taking out two pairs of her own pajamas for the both of them to wear. She dressed herself first, quickly, and then took her time dressing Santana, gently pulling her underwear up her legs, helping her step into pajama bottoms and slip her head through the pajama top. It wasn't lost on Brittany that Santana had few people who every really took good care of her, and Brittany always made an effort to take extra care of her, especially when she was sick. Gathering Santana's hair, she guided it out of the pajama top so it laid down her back over the fabric, stepping forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "How do you feel now?" She asked quietly.

"I don't like not touching you," Santana mumbled into Brittany, letting out an exhaled breath against her. She tightens her grasp, wanting to keep as much and as close contact with Brittany as much as humanly possible.

Even after years of knowing Brittany, it still gave Santana a small flicker of surprise when Brittany showed up in this way to care for her when she was hurting, sick, or just upset. There was always a tiny, insecure part of her that feared one day she might be too busy or bothered or annoyed to be able to or to want to, even though Brittany had always shown her otherwise, every time. She knew without having to discuss it in therapy that it had to do with how she had been raised. As a child, Santana's sick days had not been cause for either of her parents to take time off work to take care of her, and her abuela's methods of dealing with childhood illness had often been to declare that Santana was fine and send her to school feverish, or else to set her in her bed, alone, all day with a bucket beside her. Even years later, she still couldn't say that she ever took for granted being taken care of as Brittany did so willingly.

She let herself be guided back to the bedroom and dressed, noticing and feeling soft and loved by how carefully and caringly Brittany took her time in dressing her, checking her for any discomfort. She closed her eyes against Brittany's kiss, reaching again for her once she was dressed to reconnect her body against her.

"Not good," she pouted a little. "I feel like my legs don't want to walk, and I'm hot again. Ugh, I hate being sick. Hate it." Unnecessary but felt necessary to her to say it regardless

"I don't like it either," Brittany agreed. She loved that, despite the ups and downs they'd gone through at different times in their life, Santana, at her heart of hearts, had always listened to what she wanted and never been afraid to reach for Brittany or express what she needed, even if it had been behind closed doors at times in high school. Santana was more emotionally intelligent than many even realized, a side of her that Brittany was fortunate enough to see.

"Ugh, I'm sorry," Brittany said softly, pulling back so that she could cup Santana's face in her hands, tucking her hair behind her ears tenderly before she held the back of her hand up to Santana's forehead, a loving, maternal gesture that Brittany didn't even think twice about. "You're still a little warm," She pouted, not surprised that Santana was a little feverish, but wishing she felt better. "Let's go lay down for a little on the couch and see how you feel, okay? We'll get a washcloth to put on your forehead that'll probably make you feel a little better." Brittany explained, using something her mother had always done to make her feel better when she was feeling sick.

She led Santana into the bathroom momentarily, squeezing toothpaste onto Santana's toothbrush and handing it to her so she could clean her teeth while Brittany fixed the washcloth, expertly running the cloth under cool water, making sure it wasn't too cold before she wrung it out and folded it into a rectangle. When Santana was finished, she led her by the hand to the kitchen, wanting to make sure they had everything within reach and didn't have to keep getting up- knowing Santana would be reluctant to let Brittany up off the couch for something.

"I'm just going to pour you some water and get a few crackers in case you feel like you need to try and eat something later," Brittany instructed as she filled a glass of water and then a bowl of crackers. She knew Santana's stomach was upset but wanted to give her the option of trying a few crackers, knowing having food in her stomach might help calm it marginally.

Having everything they needed, at least at the moment, Brittany tilted her chin toward the couch, hitting the light switch with her elbow and turning off the overhead light so that the room was bathed in the cool glow of daylight that streamed in through the apartment windows. She set the glass and bowl on the coffee table before she sat down, positioning herself at one end of the couch and patting the space beside her.

"Lay right here and put your head in my lap, San," She coaxed softly. She knew at some point, they'd probably transition to Santana laying directly on top of Brittany as always, but for now she wanted to keep her as cool as possible and try to get her to lay with the compress on her forehead, at least for a few minutes.

Santana pouted a little more when Brittany pulled away enough to walk with her into the bathroom, even though they were still very closely connected to each other. She brushed her teeth very carefully, trying not to let too much toothpaste onto her tongue, but gagged a little nonetheless, her stomach muscles contracting with nausea. Spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing her mouth, she groaned and reached for Brittany again, putting her head against Brittany's shoulder. She wanted to ask Brittany to carry her but doesn't; maybe that's a step towards ridiculous even for her.

"Don't want any crackers," Santana grumbled, still hanging onto Brittany with both hands as the other girl gathered the items she had described getting for her. She rested her head in between Brittany's shoulder blades, still hanging onto her as she followed her into the living room and as Brittany readied everything for her.

Glad when Brittany had her hands free, she did as Brittany instructed, lying down on the couch with her head on her lap, her cheek against Brittany's thigh. She reached up to grasp for Brittany's hand immediately, wanting as much contact as possible.

She let Santana hang on her, her heart tugging, wishing there was something she could do to make her feel better than she did right then as she led them over to the couch. "Mm, maybe you can try some later depending on how your stomach feels. I think sticking to bland food today and tomorrow will make you feel better," Brittany said noncommittally. She knew she'd have to at least try for Santana to consume something, whether that be crackers or toast or whatever she was willing to eat, but she didn't want to start that whole conversation right then and risk her getting upset when she had only just recently calmed down from thinking she had a disease.

"Here, lay on your back for me," Brittany coaxed, the washcloth in her free hand. When Santana obeyed her, she smoothed her wet hair off her face before gently laying the washcloth across her forehead, hoping it soothed her at least a little bit. "Just see how that feels for awhile, okay?" She said softly, keeping her hand in Santana's.

With her free hand, she thumbed to a random Disney movie, this time, Brave, which she thought was pretty fitting for Santana, and put it on at a low volume. She knew Santana couldn't see the TV, but used it more for background noise, knowing sometimes it was easier for Santana to relax with noise instead of pure silence. Carefully, she brought her own feet up to rest on the coffee table, leaning back against the couch cushions as Santana rested in her lap.

Setting the remote down, she brought her hand to rest against Santana's cheek, stroking her thumb under Santana's eye soothingly, hoping that the calm would help Santana relax and ease her symptoms, if only marginally.

"No food," Santana griped again, shaking her head and flinching slightly when her head spun with the gesture. She hesitated, not wanting to move, but then slowly and carefully did as Brittany asked with some help from her. She wanted to curl up on her side in a fetal position, but Brittany had asked her to move, and she finds it hard to outright not listen when she asks something of her, when it comes down to it.

The washcloth did feel good against her head, and she let out a soft noise of appreciation, her face relaxing as Brittany stroked her face. Her tight grip on Brittany's free hand eased as she grew more comfortable.

"I'll do this for you if you get sick," she mumbled, and she would, even though she was somewhat squeamish of vomit. Being Brittany meant that she would put that aside to do what Brittany needed from her, even if she hadn't been the one to be sick first. Sometimes it seemed unfair to Santana that Brittany never really seemed to need her in the same way or as much as Santana herself felt that she needed Brittany, as much as Brittany said otherwise.

Every now and then she mumbled a line in unison with the movie. She's seen it often enough by now to have parts of it memorized. Mostly though she focuses on Brittany's calming touch.

Brittany raised her eyebrows to Santana's insistence that she didn't want food, but didn't immediately respond. It wasn't a battle she wanted to have right then, or ever while Santana was sick for that matter, and so she dropped it, deciding it could happen later, but that Santana probably shouldn't go the entire day without food in her stomach. Instead, she just continued her gentle strokes, her thumb rubbing circles into the back of Santana's hand while her fingers grazed her cheekbone lovingly, watching her body visibly react to Brittany's love as she calmed down where she lay.

"I know you would," Brittany promised instantly, because she did. "You take care of me better than anyone, always," She added, knowing that she was speaking directly to Santana's fears. It wasn't something she always acknowledged, but Brittany knew Santana doubted her own capabilities, of caring for Brittany, of caring for anyone for that matter, based on the care Santana had never gotten as a child and the fact that she had no one to learn from.

As Santana mumbled along with the movie, Brittany grinned down at her adorably, checking on the washcloth temperature every few minutes to make sure it was still cooling Santana's head. They had to have been about halfway through the movie before it seemed to have warmed up completely to the point where it was no longer doing anything, and Brittany carefully peeled it off Santana's head. "Did that feel better?" She asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the calm in the room. She stroked Santana's hair a few times, setting the washcloth on the coffee table before asking, "Do you want to lay on your side now, or do you want me to lay down with you?" She wondered, questioning whether Santana wanted to keep her head in her lap or if she wanted to lay on Brittany.

Santana is near sleep when Brittany takes the washcloth off her head. She stirs, eyes slitted partly open, as Brittany addresses her, and gives a faint nod, responding to the question about feeling better. She's actually a little cold now and tries feebly to turn on her side, wanting to curl close to Brittany, but gives up after a less than half-hearted effort, blinking up at Brittany groggily.

"Lay with me," she mumbles, then clarifying further, "big spoon." She wants Brittany to lay behind her on the couch with her arms fully around her, enveloping her in as much warmth and comfort as possible.

She couldn't help but smile at how tired and calm Santana had grown purely from laying with Brittany for a little and having Brittany stroke her cheek and mumble a few loving things to her every few moments. She nodded at Santana's instruction, careful as she shifted her head off of her lap, instead sliding her arm under Santana's head so that she could rest her head against Brittany's arm as she slept.

Trying to adjust Santana as little as possible, Brittany carefully slid her legs behind her, helping Santana turn onto her side and pulling her close to Brittany, fitting her hips against hers and wrapping her free arm over Santana's chest, holding her to her. "I'm right here babe," Brittany cooed, making sure Santana's hair was swept back off her face and neck. "Just keep relaxing for me. Do you want the blanket?" Brittany wondered as she felt Santana shiver against her, about to reach up and tug down the blanket from the back of the couch.

"Mmm," Santana mumbled, sleepy and secure as she felt Brittany wrap herself around her. "Yeah...good. like you here."

She nodded slightly at Brittany's question about the blanket, releasing a sigh as she wrapped it around her. "Thanks. Should wear a nurse dress. Sexy one."

She's joking, almost asleep, and after a few minutes does drift off. She sleeps for about an hour before she wakes up to another round of cramping and struggles to sit up, gagging. Her chest and stomach heave, because she has nothing left to throw up, and her eyes tear again as she tries to stand, flailing out.

"Ughhhh!"

Brittany reached up with the hand that Santana's head wasn't on and tugged the blanket off the back of the couch, arranging it over both of them and tucking it around Santana snuggly, molding her body against her back and contentedly slipping her arm under the blanket and around Santana's waist.

"I think that was your calling, not mine," Brittany jokingly whispered into Santana's ear, referring to her nurse outfit. Letting her eyes flutter shut, she laid with Santana, contentedly breathing in the smell of their shampoo and the smell of Santana, feeling her grow heavy and still against her as she slept, gratefully she'd fallen asleep so easily, figuring she had to be exhausted after getting sick and sleeping so badly the night before.

She drifted off into sleep shortly after Santana, the last thing on her mind was thinking of how far Santana had come recently in therapy and how much more adaptable Santana was becoming to their everyday life, to all the times Brittany gave her little pushes to try new things and she rose to them.

Brittany wasn't sure how long they'd both slept, but she was shaken out of sleep by Santana jerking away next to her, sitting up fast and struggling to her feet, Brittany quick behind her, kicking the blankets off her and grabbing Santana by the arm as she stood. "Okay, it's okay, San, I've got you" Brittany calmed, guiding her towards the bathroom, picking up the water glass from the table as she went. "I don't think there's anything in your stomach," She added, nudging open the bathroom door with her foot and easing Santana down in front of the toilet, knowing all she'd probably do was cough up bile, but knowing when she was sick she always felt better in the bathroom, just in case she did get sick. "It'll pass, Babe," Brittany hushed, pushing Santana's hair behind her ear and over her shoulder to make sure it wasn't hanging down in her face, leaving her hand where it rested on her back.

Santana clung to Brittany with one hand twisted awkwardly behind herself as she knelt in front of the toilet, retching and shuddering in between each gag. As Brittany had thought, she didn't have anything left in her and just spat up some bile, but to her, that was almost worse than actually vomiting, because it didn't make her feel any better. She gasped for breath, eyes and nose leaking, and held onto her stomach with her free hand as though it would somehow absorb its hurting by touch.

"I haaaaate this!"

She doesn't care how whiny she sounds or how disgusting she looks right now, which is probably very to both. Even with her hair pushed back and Brittany rubbing her back, she feels utterly miserable.

She flushed the toilet once she is pretty sure she's done and then with a dramatic moan turned to bury her face against Brittany's neck before mumbling in realization "I'm getting you gross. I'm so gross, ughhhh." Still, she doesn't move away.

Brittany knelt beside her, knowing Santana wanted contact despite the fact that she was gagging, keeping one hand on her back and letting Santana hold her other hand, murmuring comforting words to her to reassure her that she was right there, understanding that Santana's need for physical comfort was heightened. "Okay, Babe, take deep breaths through your nose okay?" She coaxed gently, needing Santana to breathe through it, wanting to prevent her panicking in the middle of getting sick.

"I know," She cooed, letting Santana fall into her lap again, drawing her close to her body as she whined, trying to absorb Santana's pain and angst as if she could draw it out of her body into her own. Smoothing Santana's hair back, she shook her head, "It's okay, San, you're sick." Brittany comforted, knowing Santana was always much more aware of 'feeling gross' and overall hygiene than Brittany had ever been. "Just breathe for me, okay? And sit up and take a drink of water, okay? You can spit it out if you don't want to swallow it, but I think your stomach will calm down a little if you drink something," She coaxed, wanting to Santana to feel better but also willing to meet her halfway.

She knew, so many times in life, Santana didn't have control of things or have the space to communicate openly, and so, especially when she was sick, Brittany handed over control of basically anything to Santana, as well as gave her the space to whine and moan about how awful she felt. She let Santana decide if she wanted to drink, if she wanted to eat, where she wanted to lay and what she wanted to do, supplemented by gentle caring gestures from Brittany, things she knew Santana didn't even know to expect, things that, to Brittany, were the bare minimum, but things that she knew Santana appreciated deeply.

"I don't want to," Santana continued to whine as Brittany encouraged her to sit up and drink, pushing herself more closely to her even as Brittany stroked her hair. "Ughhhh."

After a few moments though of wallowing in her misery, she took a slow breath as Brittany had directed and turned her head, still in Brittany's lap. She didn't sit up all the way but did take the water, taking a sip and swishing it around her mouth. She held it there for a minute, indecisive, and then swallowed it, deciding she kind of liked the way it felt going down her throat. She took another few sips and set it down, burrowing back against Brittany.

"Hate this. Hate. This. Whoever gave me this, I'm gonna kill them. I'm gonna kill them with...some killing thing."

She's too tired to be overly witty at the moment and doesn't care about that either.

She grinned as Santana burrowed in even deeper into her arms, welcoming the closeness although she knew she had to move them off the bathroom floor eventually. "I know it sucks, Babe, but you can sleep it off, and most of the time bugs like this only last like 24 hours." She soothed, grateful that both of their lives were fairly flexible in that Santana could easily miss class and she could easily have someone take over for her in the event that one of them got sick, knowing that one of them staying home while the other one went about their day was absolutely not an option for them.

Brittany helped Santana raise the glass to her lips, satisfied that she was drinking at all, pressing a kiss to her still damp-hair. "Good girl," She smiled, holding her hand under the glass if Santana dropped it, taking it out of her hand and setting it down when she was finished drinking. She giggled at how instantly Santana tucked herself into the crook in Brittany's neck, evidently having no plans to leave. "I think you need to work on that insult a little Babe," She giggled at Santana's meek attempt at casting ill towards whoever infected her.

Feeling Santana start to go a little limp against her body, settling into her, she rubbed her back gently, "We can't sit here all day." She coaxed, "We can put a trashcan next to you so you don't have to jump up next time, okay? You can choose, back to the couch or to the bed?" Brittany wondered, again giving Santana a choice in what she did, even though the choice was only where to spend the next few hours cuddling.

"Mm. Gonna...take the back of the toilet and smash their head in and then gag them with toilet paper and... smother them with a towel," Santana fumbled to recover her curse towards "whoever" had so infected her. She could only think of what she could see in her immediate surroundings as potential weapons.

As Brittany rubbed her back, encouraging her to get up and go lay somewhere else with her, Santana wrapped her arms around her neck. "Couch," she decided, not wanting to be in bed before she might sleep for the night. "Carry me?"

She only has a small flicker of embarrassment for the request. She knows Brittany will go through with it if she asks, and that's exactly why she does.

Brittany's eyes widened momentarily as Santana went more in depth about her violent punishment for whoever had gotten sick, wrinkling her nose. "San," She said, having heard more than enough. "Stop the violence," Brittany said, half-joking but also half-genuine.

Before Santana even spoke again, she knew she didn't want to stand up on her own by the way she tightened her arms around Brittany's neck, her furrowed expression replaced with a grin. "Couch it is," Brittany agreed, part of her already knowing that was going to be Santana's answer rather than their bed, which, for some reason, Santana still wasn't that fond of. Brittany could, however, coax her to sleep much easier on the couch and found that she was much more calm their and less nervous about experiencing a potential nightmare.

Pressing a kiss to Santana's temple when she requested to be carried Brittany whispered against her skin, "Only because I love you," even though she would've never turned down Santana's request. She knew that this was a special side of Santana reserved only for her, and she cherished the moments where Santana had no second thoughts about being vulnerable and expressing exactly what she wanted. She adjusted Santana in her arms slightly, then stood, the water glass in one hand, supporting her easily as she made her way out of the bathroom and back towards the couch. Setting the water glass down on the coffee table, she bent at the waist to let Santana down on the couch, reaching behind her to unhook her arms from around her neck. "One sec," She soothed, "I'm just going to get the trashcan in case you feel sick," Brittany murmured, vanishing into the bedroom momentarily before returning with the trashcan, setting it next to the coffee table as a just-in-case.

Crawling back onto the couch, she laid on her back and held her arms out to Santana, humming contentedly as she settled against her chest, fixing the blankets so they were tucked back around her securely.

"They started it," Santana mumbled back to Brittany, but she did stop the threats. As Brittany picked her up, Santana kept her arms around her neck, resting her head against her shoulder and letting herself relax as much as she was capable of. She pouted slightly as Brittany set her on the couch and then went to get a trash can, but as Brittany returned and made it clear that she was welcoming her to rest against her, she exhaled and laid down on her chest, wriggling until she felt comfortably lined up with Brittany's limbs.

As much as she hates being sick, this is soothing and even sort of nice for Santana, just to have a day to be held by Brittany and attended to so thoroughly. She traced Brittany's cheek with one finger, murmuring to her.

"Thank you for taking care of me."

After Santana adjusted herself against her, Brittany could feel the way her body slackened, relaxing as she molded herself against Brittany's body, at ease in her arms in a way she wasn't anywhere else in the world. She knew Santana was definitely physically sick but she wondered how much of her care was also attending to Santana's emotional needs as well as physical ones.

"I will always take care of you," Brittany promised easily, not even having to think twice before making that statement with full conviction. She'd reminded Santana that she would always take care of her hundreds of times most likely, but she knew it was something Santana never stopped needed to hear and something she never got tired of reminding her of. She let one hand comb through Santana's hair, twirling the still damp tendrils through her fingers as she spoke. "I love you," Brittany hummed into her hair, giving Santana another gentle reminder that she always needed to hear.

Ever since they'd had their talk about their relationship and Rachel and Kurt had come over, their I love yous had been constant and Brittany had seen the change in Santana, the way she was more reassured, slightly calmer, now that she knew, regardless of what happened, they were together and in love, despite how the last year of their life had been.

Santana gave a soft, genuine smile at Brittany's promise. She is always awed and touched by Brittany caring for her, and the commitment that she always will is not something she takes lightly, never has and never will. She squeezed Brittany's hand, rubbing her thumb over its pulse point at the wrist, and softened further as Brittany played with her hair, suppressing a yawn.

As Brittany told her that she loved her, she squeezed her hand again, then moved to rub the edge of her nose against Brittany's in an Eskimo kiss. She doesn't want to kiss her on the lips with what she thinks is her nasty puke breath, but she does want to show what her words mean to her.

"I love you," she repeated with sincerity. "Always."