Together we will rise

by Jinxgirl

Post Glee, canon through season 5 and then AU after. About a year after Brittany and Santana have broken up, Brittany learns of a traumatic incident Santana endured and the suffering she's going through. Their paths draw together again as together they work to rebuild their lives- and eventually, their relationship. Trigger warning: incident of rape/physical assault, homophobia

30. Chapter 30

*TIME JUMP, 2 DAYS*

Santana's sickness, thankfully, had disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. Although Santana seemed fine the next morning, Brittany kept them both home an extra day, something Santana was all too happy to go along with, giving Santana extra time at home and extra time where she was the sole focus of Brittany's attention without classes and dance breaking up their time. They'd done a whole lot of nothing in those two days, which, Brittany thought, was exactly what Santana needed. Santana had taken more naps than she'd ever had, granted, they were in Brittany's arms and on the couch, but sleep was sleep, and Brittany was grateful she was resting at all.

The third day came and, as much as she wanted to, Brittany couldn't ignore the fact that they had to go back to their real lives. They showered together and had a slow, deliberate morning before it was time for Brittany to walk Santana to class and on the walk, they both went over how many classes Santana had that day and when Brittany would pick her up. Wednesday was Santana's busiest day of the week, and the same went for Brittany who had almost back to back classes until it was time to walk to campus and get Santana. She was only two classes into the morning, though, when she started to feel achy, and not in the good-exercise way, but quite the opposite. Shit. She knew, obviously, there was a chance that Santana could get her sick being that they'd been touching each other nonstop for 48 hours, but she thought after the second day that she was in the clear.

By the end of the third class, it was very evident she was not in the clear, and she barely made it to the staff bathroom before getting sick, her body already feeling hot and feverish- definitely not how she expected her day to go. She pulled herself together, splashing cold water on her face and rinsing her mouth, before she left the bathroom and visited the front desk, making sure she could have someone sub in for her other four classes. Getting someone to cover for her was the easy part. The difficult part? Santana. She had no doubt that Rachel would go pick her up in a few hours if she asked, which Rachel instantly agreed to when she actually did ask, but Brittany knew the change up would throw Santana off, especially when it came to Brittany being sick. Santana had been a little better about not being constantly afraid of Brittany dying for some reason or other, but Brittany knew her being sick would spike that concern, along with the guilt Santana would feel for actually infecting her, even though Brittany had promised her nonstop that it was fine if she got sick.

Ultimately, Brittany went home for the day and after double confirming with Rachel that she could pick Santana up at the usual spot after her class, she decided to wait a few hours, knowing that if she told Santana immediately, all she would do was worry and get upset until Rachel arrived. Dragging herself through a quick shower so she didn't feel as bad, she flopped onto the couch, deciding to text Santana during her last class of the day.

Brittany: Hi babe, Rachel's going to pick you up today :) She'll be waiting for you when you get out of class. I got sick at work and went home for the day but I promise I'm okay and I'll see you soon 3 I love you

The two days off Brittany had insisted Santana needed to take in order to fully recover had passed quicker than Santana would have thought possible. She had stopped getting sick or even feeling nauseous after a day had passed, but she hadn't argued against Brittany encouraging her to take off another, just in case. She could afford to take the time, and she didn't mind another day of Brittany's full attention and care.

By the dawn of day three, Santana was somewhat restless, a sign that she was certainly well again, and with encouragement from Brittany had agreed to eat a piece of toast in the morning and drink a few glasses of juice in spite of her temptation to use the recent sickness as an excuse to refrain from eating. She was a little anxious about going back into even their very comfortable and familiar routine in the middle of the week, but work and school couldn't be put off forever, and so with that knowledge she had started her day. She had become preoccupied with catching up on the information and assignments she had missed and with throwing herself into the new classes to the point that she didn't check her phone until she was nearly finished with the last class of the day, which was generally unlike her.

Seeing the missed text from Brittany, she read it, her heart rising into her throat as soon as she read the first line. Rachel was picking her up? That wouldn't happen without something being wrong- Brittany never failed to get her after class if it was at all possible for her to do so.

Hurriedly reading the rest of what Brittany had messaged didn't do anything to further calm her anxiety. If anything, it kicked it into higher gear. For Brittany to be sick enough to actually send Rachel to get Santana rather than to come get her for herself must mean she truly was feeling very sick, no matter what she said about being okay. How sick was she? Who was taking care of her without Santana there to look out for her? What if she had fainted or fallen and there was no one with her to help her? What if she was so weak she couldn't get off the floor?

She barely managed to restrain herself from tearing out of the classroom immediately, and the minute the professor dismissed them, she bolted, nearly running headlong into Rachel at her usual meeting spot. When Rachel greeted her happily, trying to give her a hug, Santana had no time for that.

"Have you talked to her? Is she okay? Where is she, why isn't someone staying with her and taking care of her? How could you let her go home by herself?!"

She didn't give Rachel time to stammer through any explanations, already over the answers that she might attempt to provide. "Let's go, hurry, she needs me NOW, she needed me hours ago!"

She practically runs the rest of the way home, leaving Rachel practically dragging after her, breathless as she tried to talk sense and calm into her while on the move. It was futile, of course, as there was no calming Santana now that she knew Brittany was sick, Brittany was suffering, and she was the one who had caused it. She should have known, she should have never agreed to go to school and let Brittany go alone to work.

She practically burst through the door of their apartment, nearly dropping her keys a few times in her haste to unlock it, and called Brittany's name louder and with more anxiety in the word than normal as she dropped on her knees in front of Brittany's prone figure on the couch. Scanning her face for any sign of serious damages, she reached to smooth back Brittany's hair, her hand trembling slightly.

"Brittany, you should have called me! You should have got someone to come get you and stay with you, you shouldn't have been here alone! Are you okay? How many times have you been sick? What can I do to help?"

"Um, hope you feel better, Brittany," Rachel said from the doorway, barely poking her head into the room partly due to her own paranoia of germs, partly because Santana was totally ignoring her. "I'll talk to you both soon."

Brittany had known how Santana would react to the text message she sent her, and she still found no way that would calm Santana's anxiety or calm her fears about the situation. At the end of the day, Brittany sent the text exactly how she'd first written it and hoped for the best, trying to reassure Santana that she was okay.

She heard Santana stumble against the lock before the door opened, a burst of Santana as she scanned the apartment quickly to determine Brittany's location. The flurry of fear in Santana's eyes stroked a chord deep and low in Brittany, and she found herself reaching for her just as Santana reached for her, desperate to have her in her arms, to feel the calm that radiated from the warmth of her body.

With no hesitation, she let Santana frame her face and smooth back her hair, knowing she was making sure Brittany was whole and okay and unharmed, smiling into her gesture. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to worry you," She confessed, her arms wrapping around Santana, "I've been sick three times but I've showered and I feel much better. I'm okay, I swear, I just wanted you. I'm sorry for not picking you up," She soothed, grateful to have Santana in her arms.

Over her shoulder, she smiled weakly at Rachel, "Thank you, Rach," She managed as Rachel left, "I know Santana asked you one million questions about my health that you didn't have the answer to," She giggled, burying her face in Santana's hair even though she felt sick, wanting to be close to her.

As Santana scanned her face anxiously, checking to see if Brittany looks too pale or flushed, too sweaty or cold, she uses the back of her hand to check Brittany's forehead's temperature too. "How are you feeling? Are you too hot? Are you too cold? How did you even get home on your own anyway, did you take an Uber? Did you walk? You better not have walked when you're sick!"

She returned Brittany's embrace, being careful not to squeeze in case she was nauseous. "You shouldn't have showered by yourself, what if you got dizzy or hurt? Brittany, you can't just do that, you have to let me come be with you!"

She barely managed a flickered hand wave back in Rachel's direction, entirely focused on Brittany in spite of the other girl's departure. She fussed with the blanket around Brittany, constantly touching some part of her face or body as she continued to question her with urgent concern. "What do you need, babe? Some water? Some ice? Crackers? A washcloth? I'm so sorry, I didn't want to get you sick. I'll try to take care of you, you should have said something before. Are you sure you're okay?"

She is riddled with guilt and fear for Brittany, wanting to have about six extra hands to be doing things all at once to make her feel better. Even with this feel though she is unsure if she knows or is capable of doing so, and isn't sure what out of what she remembers Brittany doing for her had helped most.

Brittany let Santana run her hands over her, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead and smoothing her blanket unnecessarily. Truly, just being at home made Brittany feel way better than she had at the dance studio, and although she'd gotten sick twice more since then, she still felt better than she had during that first wave of nausea, especially now that Santana was home and she wasn't worried about how she'd react.

"I Ubered, I promise," Brittany said, because it was true. She didn't think she could've managed the walk even if she wanted to, the fever making her feel achy and weak. "I'm okay, San." She nodded, trying to reassure Santana, to calm the nervous, darting look in her eyes. "I was fine in the shower, I didn't feel dizzy or anything, I swear, but I think I have a fever." Brittany added, continuing to promise that she was fine. She knew Santana was scared by the look on her face and the way she nervously attended to all of Brittany's nonexistent needs- smoothing an already smooth blanket, feeling her forehead again although her temperature hadn't changed, lobbing a slew of questions at her.

"Can I have a water please?" Brittany asked, leaning against the couch cushions. Half of her truly did want a glass of water and the other half of her realized Santana needed a task, something to do to keep her momentarily busy and feel like she was helping. "It's not your fault you got me sick," Brittany added, propping herself up when Santana returned to take a sip of the water before sinking back against the cushions again. "I let you lay on me and we cuddled for two straight days," Brittany reminded with a weak smile. Reaching out, she brushed her fingertips across Santana's forehead, wanting to relax the anxious frown that was etched onto Santana's face.

"A fever?" Santana had already noticed the flushed look and feel of Brittany's face and stroked her cheeks and forehead, wanting to soothe any pain or discomfort she was feeling. "Aw, babe, I'm sorry."

She didn't want to leave Brittany, even for the few moments it would take to get her a glass of water, but Brittany had made the request, and Santana didn't want to deny her anything that might help her. She kissed Brittany's forehead, squeezed her shoulder, and said hurriedly, "I'll get it, I'll be right back. Promise."

It took her longer than it normally would, however, to locate a glass, fill it with water, and then bring together all the other supplies she thought Brittany might need. There was already a trash can in the living room, but Santana gathered Tylenol, crackers, a cool gel pack, and some Icy hot muscle rub, because she remembered how her own body had ached when she was sick. Arms full, she returned and started setting it out on the coffee table for Brittany before holding the glass of water to her lips for her to drink.

"I'm back," she said unnecessarily, "I'm right here. Just tell me what you need."

Brittany leaned into Santana's touch as she stroked her cheeks and forehead, letting her eyes flutter shut at the comforting gesture. She didn't feel that nauseous anymore, but she wasn't sure if it was only because she'd already gotten sick multiple times and her stomach, for the time being, was empty. When Santana promised she'd be back, Brittany nodded, huddling more into the blankets as she waited patiently, silently picking up on how fast Santana was speaking and the slight anxiousness she could detect in her voice.

She heard Santana in the kitchen, but also in the bathroom opening drawers and cabinets, confused about what exactly Santana was doing. A moment later, she cracked one eye open, grinning at the sight of Santana holding half their bathroom medicine cabinet in her arms. She watched as Santana began organizing everything on the coffee table, amused at her attentiveness and how she seemingly produced objects Brittany didn't even know they had in the apartment.

"I didn't even know we had a gel pack or Icy Hot," Brittany observed, taking a sip of the water Santana held to her lips as she continued to survey the items. "Thank you," She said, referring to the water but also to every item Santana had brought over. Glancing to Santana when she spoke, Brittany smiled. Santana still looked partially terrified, looking at Brittany like she might fracture into a million pieces if Santana did the wrong thing. Even though it was just the two of them and they were in the safety of their own apartment, Brittany realized Santana was out of her element, the usual balance of Brittany caring for Santana shifting on its axis.

Virtually anything out of the ordinary in their daily lives was enough to peak Santana's anxiety, but she knew, on top of her worry for Brittany's health, Santana didn't think she was capable of making her feel better, almost pleading with Brittany to tell her what to do and what she needed. "Santana," Brittany said gently, mostly to stop her asking her another question about if she wanted something. She patted the couch next to her, wanting Santana to sit instead of kneel in front of her, and when she did, Brittany curled into her, scooting down so she could rest her head in her lap, her face turned in. "You know when you're upset and you want to sit on my lap or just need me to touch you and when I do, everything feels so much better?" She asked, "This feels exactly like that. I just need you."

Santana was worried having heard that Brittany had vomited three times already. She knew logically that as Brittany normally ate more than she did and was more active in her dance, that made sense and she would probably be okay, but it didn't keep her from stressing for her.

As she hovered over Brittany, unsure of what more she can do to make her more comfortable, she heeds Brittany's invitation to sit beside her on the couch. When Brittany rests her head on Santana's lap, Santana's anxiety goes down, and she lets out a breath, feeling better to be in contact with Brittany, just as Brittany feels better to have Santana close to her. Santana nodded; although she knows and has seen Brittany wanting her close, wanting her to comfort her with her touch and presence multiple times over the years, it still amazes her at times that just being there, just being in contact, can soothe Brittany in the same way it soothes Santana. How can she, Santana, be comforting in the way that Brittany can, when they are so very different, and she, Santana, feels so incompetent at this?

She began to run her fingers through Brittany's hair, lightly scratching her scalp, and then began to braid it into small loose braids, wanting it kept back from her face if she's sick again. She rubbed at Brittany's cheeks and temples, rhythmic, circular touch that is gentle and intended to relax tensed muscles there.

It touches her, that Brittany just wants her. Still, she wants to do more.

"I'm not leaving," she promised. "I'm here."

Brittany sighed contentedly where she lay, her face turned in against Santana's stomach, her eyes shut. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep, but it was nice that Santana was there and she could just rest, trying to keep her breathing even and keep from getting sick again. She soaked in the warmth of Santana's body and the feeling of her threading her hand through her hair, such a simple gesture but one that so soothing. She knew Santana was out of her element but she was taking care of her anyway, attentively massaging her temples.

"I know," Brittany promised quietly, because she did know. She never doubted that Santana was there and never doubted that she'd take care of her. Most importantly, she never doubted if Santana was capable of doing it, already knowing she was. Santana had taken care of Brittany from the first day they'd ever met, and, even to this day, continued to take care of her on a daily basis just by being who she was. "Nobody can take care of me like you can," Brittany said, a smile on her face, knowing Santana would deny it but willing to argue her point.

She could feel Santana threading loose braids in her hair, her hands calm and steady despite how nervous she knew Santana probably was. Tilting her head a little, she looked up at Santana, giving her a weak smile. She still felt weak and feverish, but she was cognizant to realize what a good job Santana was doing.

Blinking, she asked softly, "Will you sing for me?" Santana still hardly ever sang anymore, save for that one day in the studio where Brittany had caught her making her playlist. Even though Santana was definitely the better singer, Brittany had now taken on that role, singing every now and then when Santana was upset and asked her to. Turning, she buried her face into Santana's shirt to hide her blush, knowing Santana would see through her ruse of asking while she was sick, knowing that if she asked then, Santana was less likely to say no to her.

Santana tried to hide a smile as Brittany reassured her that she was confident in her ability to take care of her and that she felt no one else could care for her as well. Santana still doubts this, but she doesn't challenge her, just stroking her hair in continued gentle caresses. It feels good to be touching Brittany, to try to make her feel better, and she slowly eases her self criticism as she continues to touch her lightly.

Her smile faltered slightly when Brittany asked her to sing. She couldn't turn down that request when Brittany asked her specifically, especially with her being sick. And yet the thought of it feels her with apprehension immediately. She can't remember the last time it didn't feel to her as though singing would hurt more than help, that it would not connect her too intensely to emotions she didn't want to access, or remind her of a joy and freedom in spirit she no longer seemed able to have.

But Brittany was sick, and Brittany was asking her. Brittany asked so little of her.

Taking a deep breath, resting her hand on Brittany's head, Santana cleared her throat. Her voice came out a little low and raspy at first but then grew stronger with each line.

"The summer air was heavy and sweet, you and I were on a crowded street, there was music everywhere...I could see us there. In a happy little foreign town where the stars are upside down, a half a world away. Far far away...I remember, you were laughing, we were so in love...and the band played songs that we had never heard but we danced anyway. Never understood the words but just sang...lalalalala, we danced anyway..."

It was a song that never failed to make her think of Brittany, happy and dancing always, even to music she didn't know.

Brittany kept her face buried in the fabric of Santana's shirt, bashful in her request, almost holding her breath to see if Santana actually would sing. It was a part of Santana she missed, a part she missed for Santana. At one point, Santana's confidence when she sang was unshakeable and she could captivate an entire choir room, or auditorium, for that matter, with the sound of her voice and the power of her presence. Now, it was something Brittany couldn't picture, not for the small, fragile girl who Santana had become, even though Brittany wanted that for her so badly. If she could have, she would've done anything to give Santana even an ounce of that confidence and power back. She would've done anything to even show Santana that she still had that confidence and power, because, Brittany knew, she was still the very same girl, and that very same confidence was somewhere inside her. Brittany was sure of it, or at least, she hoped so, with every part of her.

She hummed contentedly when Santana rested her hand against her head, grinning against her stomach when she cleared her throat, beginning the few shaky notes to a song, finding her footing through the first couple of bars. It was a sound Brittany hadn't heard in so long, at least, not in this way. In the studio, her voice had been there, as powerful as ever but sad, tortured, weighed down with grief. But now, she was softer, singing not to be good at it, singing to Brittany just to sing to her. But Santana was good at it.

She kept her face hidden, knowing Santana would be more embarrassed if Brittany was looking at her. She only lasted so long though, sneaking peeks up at Santana before she gave in completely to her desire to watch her. Reaching up, Brittany covered Santana's hand on her head with her own, keeping it where it was, before she rolled onto her back, looking up at Santana, Santana's palm now resting on Brittany's lips.

"Keep going," She mumbled against her skin when Santana glanced down, meeting her eyes. As Santana sang, Brittany pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of her palm, her eyes trained on her face, marveling at the sight of her, transfixed by every emotion that flickered across her features as she sang, just for her.

When Santana finished, Brittany was positively beaming at her, moving Santana's palm so Santana could see her grin. She still felt feverish and gross, but the fact that Santana had willingly just sang to her was enough to have her forgetting about her illness entirely.

"Thank you," Brittany said automatically. "That was amazing." She propped herself up on her elbow for a second, her lips hovering at Santana's cheek. "I swear I brushed my teeth like - three times, but I still feel gross," She said, pressing her lips to Santana's cheekbone instead, once, twice, three times. "I feel better already," She added, even though that wasn't necessarily true.

Santana flushed a little, somewhat self conscious by the admiration and pride that Brittany is looking at her with. She feels like she sounds awful compared to what she used to be capable of, definitely not worth praise or any kind of positive acknowledgement. And yet as embarrassed as she feels by what she sees as her sub par performance, she also was gratified that Brittany still enjoyed it and found it soothing, just because it came from her.

A part of her is beginning to feel the familiar stir of longing she had once felt, watching hidden in shadows with secret envy and wistfulness as a Cheerio before Sue recruited her to join Glee. She had taken months to acknowledge it to herself, but she had been secretly pleased to get a chance to try for herself the music that had awakened her soul. She had wanted to see how it felt to stand before a crowd and wow then not with her body or even her coordination, but the pure talent of her voice and the emotion she could let out with it. The emotion she rarely let others see outside her performances.

She misses singing. Yet it's still so hard to make herself do it.

As she finished and Brittany awarded her with kisses, she flushed a little, smoothing Brittany's hair again. "Do you want me to help you bathe again? Or just get something to wipe you down with?"

Brittany stayed where she was, her forehead resting against Santana's cheek, soaking up the warmth and soft solidity of her. She wasn't sure if the proximity was actually relieving any of her symptoms, but she felt better just by being near her. Santana tended to have that effect on Brittany most of the time, even though it was overshadowed by how badly Santana needed her, it didn't mean Brittany ever needed Santana any less. Their chests pushed up against each other gently every time either of them breathed, and Brittany was particularly content to stay there forever, if she could.

Of course, she couldn't, and when Santana suggested another bath, Brittany shook her head, exhausted at the thought of it and much preferring to stay cuddled on the couch with Santana. The shaking of her head, however, brought on another roll of nausea unexpectedly, even though Brittany thought it was over. Just as quickly as she was pressed against Santana, she was gone, darting away from her to the other side of the couch to lean over the trash can. Being that she'd already been sick multiple times, she did little more than spit into the trashcan, her body jerking with the force of her heaves, her stomach contracting painfully. She stayed where she was, head down, for she didn't know how long, sucking in breaths through her nose and willing it to be over.

When it finally was, she sat up, wiping the tears from her eyes and sniffling, taking a gulp of water. "That sucks," She grumbled in a watery voice. "Will you come with me to brush my teeth and wash my face?" Brittany asked in nearly a whine, not wanting to separate herself from Santana.

Santana moved hurriedly to circle Brittany's shoulders with one arm, sweeping her hair back over her shoulder and out of her way. Keeping her arm around her, she rubbed Brittany's back with her free hand, making soft soothing noises as Brittany gagged into the trash can.

"You're okay, baby," she murmured, even as her heart wrenched for Brittany. "It will get better soon and I'm here." She kissed Brittany's shoulder, nodding at her request.

"Of course. I'm stuck on your body like a tattoo, or some other lame pop lyric from a million years ago."

She helped Brittany to her feet carefully, putting an arm around her waist to help support her. "Slow, don't get a head rush," she warned, worried she couldn't catch Brittany if Brittany did fall. She would throw herself under her to try though.

Finally in the bathroom, Santana wet a washcloth and wiped down Brittany's face, the back of her neck, and her chest. She stood next to her, one hand protectively on her as Brittany brushed her teeth.

"Do you want to try to sleep, babe?"

Santana's arm felt surprisingly strong and steady around her, and Brittany leaned into her briefly after she was done, letting her eyes flutter shut when Santana kissed her shoulder and murmured words of love to her. At the tattoo lyric, Brittany scrunched up her nose and giggled weakly, cracking her eyes open. "Did you just quote a Jordin Sparks lyric to me?" She whispered hoarsely. "And people say you're not romantic," Brittany patted her leg jokingly before letting Santana help her stand, unable to keep herself from grinning at how careful Santana was with her.

In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face, cooing at how soothing it felt against her skin, especially her face and neck which had grown splotchy with the effort of so much dry heaving. When Santana touched the washcloth to her chest it felt like heaven, and Brittany tugged her t-shirt over her head, leaving her in a sports bra, to give Santana better access to her back and chest. "That feels amazing," Brittany mumbled tiredly. In any other situation Brittany would've found Santana wiping her body down incredibly hot and they probably wouldn't have lasted long before their clothes were on the floor, but then, the gesture was nothing outside of intimate and loving.

Brushing her teeth and having Santana wipe the cool cloth along her torso made Brittany feel better and a little cleaner, although her body still felt weak with exertion. At Santana's suggestion, she nodded, reaching for Santana's hand before she padded into their bedroom without bothering to turn on the light. While Santana preferred the couch and the security of the background noise of the TV, to Brittany, the quiet darkness of their bedroom sounded like exactly what she wanted. She flopped into their bed with a pout, sighing contentedly at the softness of their bed.

She reached for Santana's hand again where she stood next to the bed, brushing her thumb against the back of Santana's hand. "Thank you for taking care of me," She said softly. "You don't have to lay with me the whole time while I sleep, I know it's boring," Brittany mustered a smile, knowing Santana would gladly lay next to her the entire time she slept, even if Santana herself didn't rest at all. "You should write a little," She yawned around her suggestion.

Ever since they'd discussed Santana writing things and since she'd taken up an English major, Brittany was as supportive as possible of the hobby, quietly encouraging Santana to do things that she liked to do, knowing that for so long, Santana had lost sight of what those things even were outside of being with Brittany and keeping her in her line of sight.

"I did NOT just quote anything by someone who didn't even win American Idol!" Santana said mock indignantly, never mind that she's betraying the fact that she even knows who Jordin Sparks is. "I was quoting Maroon 5." Not that this is much better, and she knows it.

Helping Brittany into the bedroom after she has finished cleaning her the best that she can without her fully bathing or undressing, Santana strokes back her hair again, pulling the sheets up around her with the blanket just at her feet, in case she gets too hot. Her face softens at Brittany's thanks. "You don't have to thank me. Of course I took care of you. And I want to be with you."

But as soon as Brittany did drift off, with Santana lying behind her, being the big spoon for once with an arm draped around Brittany's waist, Santana did grow restless. It's still difficult for her to spend long periods of time in bed without growing somewhat fidgety and anxious, even as she tried to calm herself by just looking into Brittany's features. Eventually she did relent and do as Brittany had suggested, easing herself from her carefully and giving her a kiss on the cheek before going into the living room. She didn't feel like writing, but she did want to do something productive, something to help Brittany more. It was her fault that Brittany was sick, and she wanted to show her how much she wanted to make her feel better and how much she wanted to be useful to her.

Santana tidied up the living room and bathroom first, cleaning and straightening and sanitizing, but she finished these tasks, checked on Brittany several times, and the other girl was still asleep. That was probably good, she needed it, Santana was sure, but it left her feeling a little unsure of herself still, of what she could do to help. Finally she decided to check if they had ingredients for chicken soup- the kind that Katherine Pierce used to make for them when they were sick, or at least the best approximation of it she could manage. Santana remembered the recipe from times she had helped her make it for Brittany.

She didn't exactly like cooking, now or ever. Spending such a long time around food was a challenge for her even now. But she would do this for Brittany. She just had to take one step at a time.

Perusing the kitchen, she found cans of broth, raw chicken, carrots, peas, parsley, and other spices and ingredients and decided that was close enough. Soon the step by step rhythm of cooking and chopping and mixing eased some of her anxiety, and the smell of the cooking soup filled the air. It was almost ready when she went to check on Brittany again.

"That was the best season of American Idol" Brittany grinned quietly, ignoring Santana's insistence that her quote had nothing to do with Jordin Sparks. Still clad in just her sports bra and leggings, Brittany sighed contentedly as she wilted against the mattress, letting Santana tug the sheet up around her. Feeling the warmth and solidity of Santana settling behind her, Brittany hummed in pleasure at the sound of Santana's voice.

"I know," She murmured, because she did. "But thank you anyway." Brittany knew Santana wanted to be with her and loved having her there to cuddle with, silently and fleetingly hoping she'd be okay while Brittany slept. It was rare that Santana was alone with her thoughts, even if she wasn't truly alone, and Brittany knew it was daunting for Santana. As she drifted off, she hoped Santana could write a little, or at least think of happy things or be distracted by something other than dark thoughts. She wanted to tell Santana to wake her up after a certain time, but before she could even voice the thought, she was asleep, her side rising and falling gently as she breathed, deep and low.

Brittany slept heavy and dreamlessly, not realizing how tired or weak she actually felt until she gave in and actually rested and, although Santana peaked in several times to check on her, she didn't stir. She wasn't sure how long she slept for, but when she did begin to wake, it was her hand searching across the bed for Santana that roused her. She, of course, came up empty in her search, causing her to open her eyes, groggy and confused about why Santana wasn't next to her, a thrum of anxiety peaking in her chest. Brittany rubbed her eyes, glancing around to get her bearings, taking a moment before she realized it wasn't nighttime, she and Santana didn't go to bed together and Santana wasn't in bed because she hadn't been sleeping next to her. She heaved a sigh of relief when she came to, realizing with a glance to the clock that it was still late afternoon and she hadn't slept for that long or left Santana on her own for too long.

Swinging her feet, she got out of bed, slowly - Santana's reminder to be slow sounded in her ear, making her smile tiredly. She stretched her arms, not bothering to put a shirt on before she went into the living room, wondering what it was Santana had been doing while she was asleep. The moment she opened the door, she was hit with the aroma of food and coziness, a warm smell that filled the entire apartment.

"It smells like my house," Brittany observed, her brows furrowed in confusion, speaking to no one in particular. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for Santana, finally landing on her standing in the kitchen, which was automatically strange because Santana hated the kitchen, even though it was basically just an extension of their living room. Blinking sleep out of her eyes, she moved closer, blurting, "What are you doing?" Before her eyes landed on the cutting board and pot simmering on the stove, making her jaw go slack in disbelief. "San, are you cooking?"

Santana jumped as she heard Brittany's sleepy, confused voice, not having heard her bare feet approaching her. Ladle in hand held up almost like a weapon, she visibly relaxed as she recognized her, putting the spoon down and walking over to her with protective hands moving to grasp her by the shoulders. She is concerned that even after sleep Brittany will be too unsteady to stand on her own for long.

"Yeah," she said a little defensively at Brittany's question, as though her cooking were not so rare as to be basically never occurring over the last year. "I know how to, for some stuff. Besides, your mom always made this for you when you were sick. I remembered how."

She looked Brittany over with some concern, checking her features and feeling her cheek and forehead with the back of her hand. "How are you feeling? You don't have to eat this now, but I figured you might want to when you feel a little better."

When Santana jumped Brittany's heart tugged, her entire body softening at how quickly Santana tensed at the sound of someone, catching her off guard. Her knuckles around the ladle were white for just a moment before she registered that it was Brittany and Brittany pouted, her hands coming up to slide around Santana's waist as Santana's held her steady on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," She said instantly, letting Santana know she'd seen her flinch, her heart melting at how quickly Santana had relaxed her posture once her eyes met Brittany's.

At Santana's tone, which almost sounded childish, Brittany giggled, wrapping her arms around her waist fully and burying her face into the crook of Santana's neck. "I didn't mean it like that," She said, her eyes shut, lips ghosting across the skin of Santana's throat. "I know you can cook, you're a better cook than me." She reminded, knowing Santana wasn't really offended at Brittany's surprise but finding it adorable that she insisted she could cook. "You're the best cook," She smiled, straightening up to look at Santana and then behind her at was simmering on the stove.

"Wait, you made my mom's chicken noodle soup?" Brittany asked, registering that Santana had brought up Brittany's mother, feeling her heart melt for the second time in 30 seconds. She was touched by how much effort Santana was putting into something as simple as taking care of her when she was sick, especially cooking while Brittany was sleeping, something Brittany considered a major step when before, Santana barely liked to handle food at all.

Letting her feel her cheeks and forehead, Brittany grinned sleepily. "I feel better." She promised, bringing her hand up to lace it with the hand Santana had on her cheek. "I want to have some. I don't feel like, nauseous really anymore. I just feel kind of achy and weak from throwing up," Brittany answered honestly, taking a second to asses how she felt. Meeting Santana's eyes, she broke into a bashful, close-lipped smile. "I think it's really, really cute that you cooked for me when I was sick, San." Brittany said, wanting Santana to know how much her effort meant to her. "This is definitely one of those little-moments-that-will-be-in-my-brain forever," She smiled, flipping their hands so she could press a kiss to the back of Santana's hand.

Santana relaxed a little further as Brittany drew her hands to her waist, letting herself be pulled a little closer to her. She gave a mostly playful scowl back at her when Brittany apologized, shaking her head.

"I wasn't scared, I was surprised."

As Brittany pressed her face into Santana's neck, Santana softened even more, wrapping her arms around Brittany in return. She loves when Brittany is the one in need of her, reaching for and seeking out her comfort. It makes her feel stronger and taller and better about herself when she can occasionally be for Brittany what Brittany always is for her.

She shivered as Brittany kissed her neck, suppressing a giggle, and swatted her lightly on the rear before pulling back to re-examine her. "You're sure you feel better? If you're shaky, come sit down."

Not waiting for Brittany to assent, she dragged her by the hand over to the kitchen table and pulled out the chair for her. "Yeah, it's your mom's soup. It wasn't a big deal," she shrugged, deflecting. "It was easy to make, and you need it. So I made it."

At Brittany's continuing to gush, Santana flushed deeply, her eyes flitting aside, even as she let Brittany kiss her hand. "It is not CUTE, it's practical! I couldn't go leave you to buy soup, and canned soup sucks. So I made it."

She got out a bowl and ladled some soup into it for Brittany, then handed it to her. "Do you want some water too? Or ginger ale maybe?"

Brittany grinned at Santana's clarification, nodding once to show she understood. "Right, I forgot that you're the most brave person I've ever met," She said, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice. Brittany had never faltered from her stance that Santana was the bravest, and most fearless person she'd ever known, a conclusion she'd come to at the tender age of 15 and one she continued to stand behind with resolute conviction.

"I do," She confirmed, letting Santana drag her over to the table, curtsying halfheartedly when Santana pulled the chair out for her. "I guess there's nothing in my stomach for me to feel sick about, but I feel weak and almost hungry like I want to try eating." She clarified. "Especially if it's food you made." Brittany flicked her eyes over to where Santana was ladling the soup into a bowl for her, something she could've easily done herself. Still, she sat, waiting, knowing Santana liked to take care of her when she was sick in the very same way she loved to take care of Santana.

When Santana casually said she couldn't leave, Brittany nodded silently, not acknowledging it, but silently picking up on it. She was right, Santana leaving to go get something for Brittany was virtually unthinkable in their current situation, and Brittany couldn't remember the last time she'd been in a different place than Santana outside of work and school. She realized, as she sat, that the last time they separated like that might've been before Santana moved in with her when she still lived at the loft. The thought stunned her, realizing that she and Santana spent that much time together, because to her, it was just their life. It was what Santana needed, and, in turn, what Brittany chose to give her, which was everything. She had no plans to change it, she decided, not unless Santana wanted to.

Gratefully, she took the bowl, giggling at the flush she could see on Santana's cheeks. "Thank you, can I have ginger ale?" She asked. "And it definitely is cute. That was really nice of you," Brittany beamed, scooping up a spoonful of soup and blowing on it gently before putting it in her mouth. Swallowing, she looked at Santana, incredulous. "Okay, don't tell my mom, but this might be the best soup I've ever had. I have to tell her you made it," Brittany beamed, knowing Katherine would love that information. "But maybe like, later, because I don't need my mom showing up here because she found out I was sick," Brittany rolled her eyes. Patting the seat next to her, she beckoned for Santana to come sit, solely because she wanted her close by. "I don't know what I would've done without you today," Brittany said simply. "I would've felt way sicker."

Santana flushed again at Brittany's compliment about her soup, her face heating so obviously that even her ears warmed. She rolled her eyes even as she smiled.

"No way is it as good as your mom's, you're just delusional from fever and starving. But I'm glad you like it."

She retrieved the ginger ale for Brittany and poured it into a glass, checking if she wanted ice before handing it to her. Accepting her offer to sit beside Brittany, she automatically sat on Brittany's left and entwined their hands. Although Santana didn't intend to eat, she was accustomed to sitting with Brittany during any meal and twining hands, so she did so without variation now out of habit.

"I wanted to be here," she said softly and simply at Brittany's words. "You were here for me. Of course I'm here for you. I love you, and you're my girlfriend. I want to make you okay."

She smiles a little shyly using the word girlfriend. Even with their history it feels new again to say it now.

Brittany smiled as Santana slid into the seat beside her, twining their hands together automatically. Even though they'd only been apart for an hour because Brittany was sleeping, she'd missed Santana, so used to always having her right there, close enough to touch. As she ate the soup, which continued to be amazing, she silently registered that Santana, sitting beside her, wasn't eating herself. She didn't want to push her on the topic, especially not when Santana had taken such a decidedly big step in preparing food for Brittany. Instead, she casually asked, "Did you eat beforehand?"

At Santana's soft words and insistence that she wanted to be there, Brittany smiled around her spoon, squeezing her hand gently. She knew they were all true, of course, but her heart thrummed to hear Santana say them out loud. Since high school, their relationship had transformed, especially in recent months, and they both passed emotional declarations of love back and forth on a daily basis with total transparency. Hearing Santana say all those things never made them less impactful for Brittany, and she turned to Santana, cheeks flushed and eyes beaming. "That's right," She confirmed. "You're my girlfriend and I need you more than I've ever needed anyone," Brittany reminded, referring not to this particular situation of her being sick, but in life overall.

Santana stepping into the caring role was certainly a change from their everyday dynamic, but only because Santana was currently the one who got more visibly upset on a daily basis. Even on the worst days of recovery, Brittany would never agree to the statement that Santana needed Brittany more than Brittany needed Santana, always insisting she needed Santana just as much, that she would be just as lost without her which, to Brittany, was incredibly true.

Santana's hand twitched slightly in Brittany's at her question about eating, and she took a breath, trying not to get defensive even as her shoulders stiffened. She has been definitely slacking on the eating after having been sick, first because she was afraid eating would make her vomit, then because she had gotten accustomed to a few days of barely eating and it was just so easy to fall back into old patterns of limiting her food as much as she could get away with. She knew that Brittany wasn't going to let her get away with that for long though, or that Brittany wouldn't fail to notice her decreased intake if it continued. And she never could lie very well to her.

"No," she admitted, her voice low. "I didn't."

She didn't explain further, knowing that Brittany was likely to push her to eat with her. Her shoulders hunched forward slightly in preparation for this, but relaxed when Brittany repeated affirmations of her status as her girlfriend and her need for Brittany. It's still hard for Santana to believe that, and she tilts her head slightly, asking her for the first time.

"Why do you need me?" she asked, genuinely curious. "I mean, I know today you're sick. And sometimes I can do things a little more easily than you, or I remember things you forget. But other than that I don't get it. You're amazing all on your own. You're strong and independent and brave and unique, you can do anything in the world that you want to if you want it badly enough. What do you need me for? I get you wanting me, I guess, but not why you think you need me. Not the way I need you."

She felt Santana stiffen next to her, even if she wasn't touching her whole body, Brittany could sense it. She continued to eat quietly, her thumb rubbing along the back of Santana's knuckles soothingly. When Santana confessed that she hadn't, which Brittany already guessed, she made a noise in the back of her throat, not responding right away but knowing she should try to get Santana to eat something before they went to bed that night. She could feel Santana's body waiting for her to push the subject and so she didn't then, not wanting Santana's guard to automatically fly up, even though this was something they went through nearly every day.

Brittany expected Santana's hesitancy about eating, but she didn't expect her next question. She could tell Santana wasn't being sarcastic, she was genuinely asking her, and Brittany kept silent, listening as Santana continued on about her confusion. Raising the ginger ale to her lips, she took a second to think about it, swallowing before she turned to Santana, her Santana. "San, I haven't been on my own since I was 14," She countered. "There's always been you. You're calling me brave and amazing and strong, but I'm all of those things because you loved me, because you've loved me since I can remember, basically," Brittany said, tilting the frame, shifting the perspective to show Santana how she felt.

"I have no idea who I am, or who I would've even grown up to be without you," Brittany shrugged her shoulders to emphasize her point, their hands still laced together and resting on her leg. "I went from being like, a teenager who thought no one in the world understood me to all of a sudden having you in my corner telling me I could do anything, be anything, be anyone," Brittany spoke with her free hand, emphasizing the impact that Santana had on her. "You understand every single part of me and nobody else has ever known who I am like that, I just…" She trailed off, needing a minute to verbalize her thoughts, "It's like you're pressed into every single part of me, like in my head you've always just been everywhere, in everything, every time I thought about any dream or memory or thought in the present, there's always been you." Of course, their hadn't, not when they were broken up, but even then, Santana consumed Brittany's every thought. "I need you differently," Brittany clarified when Santana insisted Brittany didn't need her in the way that Santana needed Brittany. "You need me to see me and feel me and touch me to feel okay and make you feel safe, I need you like, in the deepest deepest part of my body, in my bones. I need you like I know the sun comes up every day. In the same way that I know who I am, I know I need you."

Santana shifted, uncomfortable when Brittany made a noise that she interpreted as gentle disapproval at her acknowledging that she hasn't eaten. She was relieved when Brittany said nothing, not pushing her, yet at least, and instead just gave her continued physical comfort and understanding. She knew that if Brittany pushed too much or got too intense about eating, she would feel like it was physically harder to choke anything down from stress.

As Brittany explained herself to Santana, Santana grew serious, her dark eyes holding Brittany's contrasting pale gaze with almost hungry intensity. She knew Brittany was speaking the truth as she saw it, from her heart, and she soaked up every word, realizing that to Brittany, it was true.

They had been more or less a package deal, inseparable, almost without exception for over a decade now. And it was true that Santana could not remember a time she had known Brittany and not loved her, even before she could recognize and acknowledge to herself just how deep that love went. She couldn't remember a time she hadn't appreciated Brittany for her wit and whimsy, her talent and all the wonders that went along with her that others didn't seem to see so readily. It had always amazed her that others couldn't see Brittany for just how terrific and rare she was.

What Brittany was saying about Santana was true for Santana too. She felt that Brittany was a part of all her best and most important memories, every huge milestone of her life from the time she was barely outside of childhood. Brittany had helped her grow up and out into the world, had opened her in more ways than she could have dreamed. And for Brittany to be all that, to do all that, and still need Santana too- it was enough for Santana to find it hard to catch her breath, to bring tears into her eyes at the sincerity of her loving words.

Biting her lip, she blinked against them, squeezing Brittany's hand hard before pulling her face close, giving her a kiss that started gentle but became fierce with her emotion. Pulling back, she wiped at her eyes, still grasping one of Brittany's hands in hers.

"You are everything to me. Beyond everything," she choked out. "I don't know how to be in this world without you."

Brittany held Santana's gaze, seeing the almost desperate look in her eyes, the want to hear Brittany describe how she loved Santana, how badly she needed her. Brittany was honest and thorough in her description, wanting just as badly for Santana to know how much she was needed, how deeply she was a part of Brittany. Brittany knew Santana needed her, she'd always known it, when Santana would wrap her fingers around her wrist in glee club, when she'd sneak in Brittany's window and peel her clothes off just to be close to her, when she clung to her whenever Brittany came back from tour, when her scared and panicked eyes automatically calmed whenever they landed on Brittany now. Brittany knew how she was needed, and she wanted Santana to know how she was needed, to have that reassurance, that confirmation of purpose that filled Brittany's own heart to its very brim.

She smiled when Santana squeezed her hand, letting her tug her forward, meeting her lips eagerly. She knew Santana was overcome, that she didn't have the words to respond to Brittany's comments in that moment, responding with her body instead, showing Brittany her love through her actions. Brittany kissed her back hungrily, as if she could press love into Santana's body with her lips, smiling against her mouth.

Giggling when Santana pulled away to wipe her eyes, she darted forward again to press three quick kisses to her cheek, blushing when Santana's response was noticeable tear-clogged but also raw and loving. "I know," Brittany said softly, because she did. "And now you know too. I love you," She smiled simply, her eyes watery too. "Every time I look at you I always think 'I could not possibly love her more than I do right now', but then I always love you more." Brittany laughed, "That's how I feel right now, but tomorrow I'll probably love you even more."

Santana too blushed as Brittany kissed her cheeks, ducking her head and then hiding her face against Brittany's shoulder. She is smiling though, dimples digging into her cheeks as she lifts her head again to regard Brittany.

She feels the same. It seems impossible to love anyone or to be loved by anyone as much as Brittany, nor does it seem something she is deserving of. But it's hers, it's here, and she cherishes it more than anything she's ever owned.

"I love you more too," she repeated. "Every day just gets more ridiculous with the love. But more amazing too, because it's us. Us together."

Brittany smiled as Santana buried her face, knowing that was a dead give away that she was blushing furiously and bashful about it. Losing access to kissing Santana's cheeks when she tucked her head down, Brittany swiftly transitioned to pressing a kiss to the top of her head, pushing her bowl away a little so they didn't jostle it with all their affection towards each other. When Santana picked her head up, she was pleased to see the wide grin on her face, reaching out to touch one of her dimples with her pinky finger. She knew it was rare for Santana to smile big enough to show her dimples in front of anybody else, even though Brittany thought they were adorable.

Giggling at Santana's equally sappy statement, she shook her head, wearing a matching grin on her face. "Lucky ussss," She singsonged, knowing that they truly were insanely lucky to have stumbled upon each other so young. Their conversation was so loving, so lighthearted in a way that was so different from most of their day to day interactions, especially when Santana was sick, and Brittany reveled in it, loving the way her words had such a positive effect on Santana and how she seemed to glow in the wake of them.

Lacing her hand back with Santana's, just to be able to touch her, Brittany pulled her soup bowl back towards her, taking a few more bites of the still-warm soup and humming in satisfaction. "This really is insanely good San." She repeated, "We should start making fun recipes like all the Spanish food you used to make," Brittany said, leaving out the part about how Santana learned to cook from a family who no longer knew a thing about her. Stirring the soup, she lifted another spoonful, fishing out mainly veggies and chicken rather than noodles, not wanting to stamp out the happiness and joy from their conversation by making Santana anxious about eating noodles. Reaffirming her grip on Santana's hand, Brittany held the spoon in front of her. "Do you want a bite?" She asked gently.

Santana giggled when Brittany kissed her head, and then broke into a short but loud burst of laughter as Brittany touched her dimple. She batted her hand, then kissed its back, twining her fingers back with Brittany's.

"Yep, lucky us. Hot, smart, and hilarious."

She actually almost believes it today.

Santana scrunches her nose at Brittany's suggestion of cooking her abuela's recipes. She doesn't love cooking, for a variety of reasons, but if Brittany wants her to, she won't be able to deny her that, so she just nods. "Yeah, maybe. Some time."

She pauses when Brittany holds the spoon up for her, conflicted. Her instinct is to continue to fight eating as long as she can get away with, but equally strong is her desire to please Brittany and do whatever she wants when she's sick. Finally she accepts the bite and swallows quickly without comment, although her hand grasps Brittany's a little more tightly.

Brittany rolled her eyes playfully at Santana's remark - it seemed like such a Santana thing to say. It was something a young Santana would've said and, for a moment, Brittany got a glimpse of the girl Santana used to be, overly snarky and confident. She knew, of course, that the confidence didn't run down to Santana's center, but remembering her was so different from the woman who sat beside her, and it made Brittany motivated to want to give Santana that side of her back, in time.

She was mildly surprised when Santana opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around Brittany's spoon, swallowing the bite of soup. She grinned in approval, leaning over to kiss Santana's temple, murmuring, "Good job, San," against her skin before eating a few more bites herself. She knew Santana hadn't eaten enough that day, or the few days before it either, but she didn't want to instantly shatter their happiness by making her upset and getting into an argument about eating. Instead, Brittany finished her soup and then wrapped an arm around Santana's waist, pulling her against her side. "I'm not going to make you eat more because I don't want to upset you, but we're going to wake up tomorrow and eat breakfast together," Brittany said, knowing Santana had been waiting for her to urge her into eating something and wanting to give her a break, even though she knew, technically, she probably shouldn't.

"I hate seeing you stressed about things all the time," She observed, running her fingers through Santana's hair, content with her decision to just give her one night of not having to worry about Brittany pushing her to eat or push her limits or do something. Santana was the bravest person she'd ever met, and she'd told her that multiple times, but Brittany could only imagine how tired she was from all of it.

Standing, Brittany picked up her bowl, bringing it to the kitchen and putting it in the sink before helping Santana put away the soup leftovers. When they were done, Brittany tugged Santana to her by the waist, looping her arms around her. "Wanna watch a movie?" She asked, not tired enough to go to bed yet but still not feeling her best from being sick.

Santana leaned against Brittany, briefly seeking comfort from her. She didn't feel quite as anxious as she had expected for eating even that small amount, but nevertheless she does feel a flutter of discomfort and impulse to look down at herself, as though that one bite would instantly and visibly make her gain weight. She relaxed further as Brittany drew her closer to her, promising her that she wouldn't make her eat, although she also noted with mixed trepidation and relief that Brittany had also promised she would be eating with her tomorrow. Trepidation, of getting back to "normal" eating again, and relief, because in the end, having routines and expectations and being held accountable to take care of herself was soothing to Santana, even if it sometimes also was difficult to maintain.

Brittany seemed to be reading her mind as she told her softly that she hated to see her stressed, playing with Santana's hair. Santana rested her head against Brittany's shoulder for a moment, letting herself relax, letting Brittany take onto herself from Santana just some of the stress that Santana had been harboring. It was exhausting, sometimes, just existing in her own space, having the endless run of thought and feelings that seemed to come with being Santana Lopez over the past six months. Having Brittany acknowledge that and give her a break, even for a day, was validating and helped.

Santana fussed at Brittany briefly about sitting and not overdoing things, but Brittany insisted on helping her put up the food and then wrapped her arms around her, suggesting a movie. Turning around to face her, Santana returned the embrace, nodding against her chest.

"Yeah. You pick. And no more moving around. Sit. Stay."

Brittany smiled when Santana returned the embrace, each of them seeming to soak up every moment of physical comfort and constantly reaching for each other. They had always been largely physical once Santana had come to terms with her sexuality and even when they were hooking up in secret they always ended up sneaking pinky links and caresses while no one was looking. Now, though, it's almost second nature to both of them, Brittany reaching out to tuck Santana's hair behind her ear while they're at the table, Santana reaching for Brittany's hand whenever she picks her up from class, Santana sliding her body on top of Brittany's whenever they lay in bed or on the couch. So much of their love was spoken through words but even still, their relationship continued swiftly through the way they touched, conveying all the words they said and even more than that.

"I told you I felt better," Brittany giggled, leading them to the couch. "But I will absolutely take advantage of being sick if it means I get to pick." She grinned triumphantly, sitting down first and then automatically opening her arms for Santana to tuck herself against her, another gesture that Brittany didn't even have to think about. Tugging Santana even closer, Brittany twisted her lips as she scrolled through their options. She nearly chose West Side Story because she loved anything that involved music and dancing, but caught herself before clicking on it, scrolling past it when she remembered that Tony died in the end, knowing without even having think about it that it would upset Santana, and probably her too.

She was looking to find another movie-musical, but when she scrolled past Lilo and Stitch she perked up, automatically clicking on it. "Oh we have to watch this," She grinned, wiggling against Santana to settle herself as the opening credits began. "This is like, the best movie ever."

"Still sick, get to pick the flick," Santana quipped, giving Brittany a playful smile. "So the remote is all yours."

She sat as close against Brittany's side as she could mesh herself, tucking her head against her shoulder and wrapping her arm around her waist as one leg propped up over Brittany's lap. She didn't much care what Brittany chose to watch, although she might roll her eyes and make fun of it if it was something sappy. Mostly, of course, because she didn't want to look like she was being serious if she ended up crying over it.

She smiled again when Brittany picked Lilo and Stitch, relieved, because she loves that movie too. "The best? Better than Luca and Encanto and Aladdin? Better than Nemo?"

She gave her a quick kiss and then a second, longer one, moving her other leg to stretch across her lap as well as she shifted to face her even more. One hand moved up to stroke Brittany's face, her fingers feather light, as though Brittany were delicate and fragile to touch.

Brittany giggled at Santana's funny statement, shaking her head. It was a goofy side of Santana that she usually showed only to Brittany, and even then, lately that side of her had taken a backseat to the anxiousness and fear that were usually at the forefront of Santana's emotions. "I think yes because Lilo and Stitch came out when we were younger, so I was like, insanely excited when it came out." Brittany said, "and Luca and Encanto are so new so while they're amazing, I like the way old cartoons look and remind me of being a little kid," Brittany said, her brow furrowing in her analysis, obviously putting a lot of thought behind her decision.

She didn't have too much time to speak when Santana intercepted her for a quick kiss, which Brittany happily accepted, and then a more drawn out one, which Brittany very happily accepted, letting go of the remote somewhere in the couch cushions as Santana draped both legs over her, one of her hands sliding up to thread through the hair at the base of Santana's skull. "I feel better," Brittany breathed immediately, even though she was just as fatigued as she'd been a minute ago, she'd claim she was totally fine if that meant she got to kiss Santana more. Humming contentedly into Santana's mouth, she pressed her body against Santana's, guiding hers down against the couch cushions, their legs tangled together. She knew from past experiences they'd probably go no further than kissing, but that was fine with Brittany, her tongue coming out to swipe along Santana's bottom lip.

Santana nodded her understanding of Brittany's choice of movie. She herself always preferred Aladdin, because as a kid, she had always wanted to look exactly like Jasmine and had even dressed like her once for Halloween. She also had had a crush on Esmeralda from The Hunchback of Notre Dame, but that movie was kind of depressing and not a favorite.

As Brittany kissed her back, Santana paid absolutely no attention to the movie, and not just because she had already seen it a half dozen times. She shivered with pleasure as Brittany twined her fingers in her hair, slowly lowering her body more fully over Brittany and helping her lie down on the couch. Now fully stretched across her, she ran one hand down Brittany's neck and arms and side, still kissing her deeply without pausing to breathe. Then her hand moved over Brittany's bare torso, stroking her skin, and beneath the material of her sports bra, slowly rubbing over the ball of her nipple. Still kissing her, she trailed her lips down her neck and her other hand moved to Brittany's thigh, tracing the outline where it dipped towards her crotch.

Brittany had quickly forgotten about the movie, now entirely focused on Santana and how good her body felt settled on top of her. She hummed against her mouth when she felt Santana's body shiver in pleasure, the feeling of Santana's shiver making Brittany's own body throb with want. She was silently grateful that she hadn't bothered to put a shirt on before she'd gone to lay down because it was like they'd already skipped a step in the process, jumping automatically to Brittany's shirt being off, something she certainly wasn't complaining about.

She tried to suck in deep breaths through her nose, but it was hard to try and steady herself when Santana was kissing her so deeply, her hands roaming over her torso. When Santana's thumb brushed across her nipple over her sports bra, Brittany's lips stuttered against Santana, the feeling sending a flash of heat to her core. Her chest was heaving against Santana's, their tongues battling for dominance until Santana pulled her lips away from Brittany's mouth completely. At first, Brittany had thought Santana was stopping them, that she was done, until she felt the slick wet of Santana's mouth on her neck. The feeling elicited a breathy moan from somewhere in Brittany's throat and she tilted her head back, automatically giving Santana move access to her throat. When she felt Santana's hand drag lower, onto the material of her leggings, she clamped her eyes shut, feeling Santana's fingers trace the inside of her thigh over the thin material of her leggings. "Oh my god, Santana," Brittany breathed, her heart thundering in her chest.

As always now, she was letting Santana lead, Brittany's hands fisted against the back of Santana's shirt, even though she desperately wanted to be closer to her, to feel her skin. As Santana worked her lips against her throat, she, slowly, dragged her fingers down to the hem of Santana's shirt and tugging on it, not fully removing it before Santana agreed, but letting her know that's what she wanted.

Santana's breathing is quickening, growing hot and shallow as it hits Brittany's bare skin. She sucked lightly at Brittany's pulse point, then dragged her lips down further to nip at Brittany's collar bone. Her hand continued to rest inside Brittany's leg, and she is aware of her body seeming to heat up inside with her growing desire. She takes a shaky breath through her nose as Brittany pushes at her shirt, her heart beginning to thud out of rhythm with Brittany's, but she sat up a little and helped her remove her shirt.

Now in bra and leggings herself, she paused, hands still against Brittany's bare stomach and upper breast. She isn't sure what Brittany will do next, and although she wants to continue, she feels strangely confused, as though this was something brand new with unfamiliar rules instead of an effortless dance that had occurred between them countless times. She lay down across Brittany again, cupping the back of her neck as she kissed her, but she is noticeably slower now.

She was pleasantly surprised when Santana let her take her shirt off, grinning when Santana sat up a little to help pull it over her head. Automatically, Brittany felt the small, seismic shift in Santana's disposition, letting her pause for a moment, her hands still on Brittany's body. Brittany let her hands rub down Santana's arms to rest on her hips steadily, her thumb stroking the exposed skin of Santana's side above the band of her leggings, a slow, loving gesture in the midst of their heated make out. Her eyes were trained on Santana's even though Santana was looking at Brittany's body rather than her face, looking at her own hands, a gentle confusion furrowing her eyebrows. She was patient, and, although she wished she knew what Santana was thinking, she was silent, giving her the space to assess how she felt with her shirt off.

When Santana did lay back down on top of her, Brittany smiled, wrapping her arms over her back. "It's okay, San," She mumbled against Santana's lips as they kissed, picking up on Santana's slowed pace even though she could feel how fast her heart was beating, pressed against Brittany's chest. She knew Santana was nervous, but she trusted her to stop her when she didn't want to go any further. She brought one hand up Santana's back, threading through her hair as she kissed her hungrily, feeling Santana's stomach and ribs press against hers, her skin smooth and warm.

Softly, Brittany kissed the side of her mouth and then across Santana's jaw, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to her skin, trailing them down her neck, as far down as they could reach in their current position. Tightening the arm across Santana's back, she braced her free hand against the back of the couch, rolling them so that Santana landed with her back on the cushions, as gracefully as Brittany could with the limited space the couch provided. Settling against her, Brittany hummed contentedly, returning to her gentle kissing and sucking down Santana's neck, continuing down now that she had more access, kissing down her sternum until she could kiss across the exposed skin of the top of Santana's breasts, one of her hands trailing up to brush against the bottom of Santana's bra.

As Brittany rubbed the small of her back with her thumb, Santana tried to relax, soaking in the feel of Brittany's embrace, the soft reassuring of her murmured words. As their bodies pressed together, easily coming together to fit perfectly in alignment, Santana focused her attention on Brittany, trying to pour all anxiety into increased heat and intensity as she kissed her harder, more sloppily, taking Brittany's lip between her teeth and lightly biting down.

As she drew apart, trying to catch her breath, Brittany began to kiss her way down Santana's neck and sternum. As she was shifted beneath Brittany, Santana's heartbeat picked up speed, and she tried to remember that it was Brittany on top of her, Brittany touching her. She could move if she wanted to. She was okay, she was safe.

But her body doesn't seem to process this with her brain. Without planning her hands still Brittany's, and she tries to sit up, to pull herself out from beneath her body.

Brittany kissed her way across the tops of Santana's breasts, sucking gently at her warm skin, her body fitting into every groove and dip of Santana's body, their legs still tangled together, hips fitted together. She didn't dare make any moves to remove Santana's, or her own, bra for that matter, continuing her gentle kisses across the exposed skin above her bra line, her thumb sweeping over the padded fabric of Santana's bra. In a way, the way they kissed was almost more intimate now, slower, drawn out. There was no end that they were trying to reach, because Brittany knew, at some point, Santana would stop them, that she wouldn't want to go any further. It slowed everything down, and made the both of them, Brittany especially, more attentive, kissing more, reveling in every little feeling instead of focusing on how fast she could get Santana's clothes off.

Almost instantly, she felt the shift, the way Santana's body tensed, her hands coming up to still Brittany's. That brief action was enough to snap Brittany into clarity, her hands moving from where they held Santana, backing off instantly. She could tell Santana was trying to sit herself up and she slid one hand around to her back and one hand to her shoulder, sitting up and then helping Santana pull herself up with her. Both of them were breathing heavy from their kissing and arousal, Brittany now straddling Santana's lap as both of them sat there, trying to catch their breaths.

"Are you okay?" Brittany asked, the hand on Santana's back moving to cup her jaw, tilting her head up so that Brittany could look into her eyes, could study every emotion that flickered across her face.

Santana couldn't begin to explain what she was experiencing, how she was feeling, not right then. One moment she had been totally into everything she and Brittany were doing, every touch, every kiss, and eager for more. She had loved the way Brittany felt against her, the way she treated her like someone beautiful and sexy and desirable, how she had felt that she was in a way that had become unknown to her before Brittany was back in her life.

She had felt safe, if nervous. And then suddenly, about the time that Brittany drew herself overtop her body, she had been scared. She couldn't explain why, because she knew she was okay and Brittany would never hurt her. She knew it with all of her mind and all her heart. So why was that same heart pounding so hard, and why was her body shaking so badly, riddled with goosebumps, even as her core still pulsed with lingering arousal?

As Brittany helped her sit up and cupped her face, asking her if she was okay, Santana nodded quickly, just wanting to push the experience away and not have to think or deal about it. Now in addition to her anxiety she feels guilty and stupid too, like she's somehow cheated Brittany or gipped her, and she shrugs, giving a quick answer.

"Yeah, fine. You, uh, just probably need to rest more."

Brittany never so much as glanced away from Santana's face, wanting to read every emotion that flickered across her features, wanting to see it in her eyes, to gauge what was wrong, if she really was okay. She knew something had startled her, that she'd hit her stopping point mentally, wanting to know what had happened, what it was that made her fumble. Sitting in Santana's lap, her legs straddling her hips, she could see how heavy Santana was breathing, her chest rising and falling, her entire body trembling.

She raised her eyebrows as Santana nodded, almost too fast, an insistence that she was fine quickly following. "Ookay," Brittany nodded too, slower, her eyes still fixed on Santana's face. She didn't think Santana was being honest with her, but she also could see that under her initial anxiousness, that look of confusion still flickered across Santana's face, like she was trying to figure something out that not even she was completely sure of.

"You're probably right," Brittany admitted, even though she didn't feel like she needed rest, silently letting Santana know that she understood that Santana wanted to stop. After a few moments of silence, she spoke again. "I think I scared you," She observed gently, feeling bad that something about their hookup had sparked fear in Santana. Bringing her other hand up, she framed Santana's face in both of her hands, her gaze steady. "Talk to me," She said simply. She didn't think she had all of the answers, if she did, she would've told Brittany, but she still wanted to know what was going on in her mind, wanted her to talk through her thoughts.

Santana's eyes refused to meet Brittany's, not wanting her to fully see and possibly read the level of confusing, strong emotion she is still riding out. She doesn't want to hurt Brittany or upset her, or make her feel like her own stupid feelings are Brittany's fault. She doesn't want her to think she did anything wrong. God, why is she so messed up? She has to be disappointing Brittany, even if Brittany would never say it. At the very least she's got to be worrying her.

When Brittany voiced that she thought she had scared Santana, Santana's eyes flew up to hers, and she tried to shake her head in denial, even as Brittany stopped it, framing her face with her hands.

"No, no you didn't. You didn't scare me. You never scare me, I could never be scared of you. It isn't your fault, you didn't do anything wrong."

She bit her lip, her features tensing up, and then shut her eyes, trying desperately to push down some of the welling emotions that she didn't want to be experiencing. She kept them shut, fighting tears, even as her body continued to tremble. But even with her eyes shut, her words burst out against her own desire for them to.

"It's my problem, it's me. I'm just fucked up, I can't just be fucking normal, and it's not your fault, it's my fault. I can't even be with you, then what the fuck is wrong with me?" she said roughly, hitting her fist against her own thigh in emphasis. "I love you. I've always loved you. If I can't even do things with you without freaking out, then I'm never going to be okay, I'll never be normal."

Even with her eyes still closed, tears streamed down her cheeks from under their lids, and Santana's chest rose and fell with barely contained sobs. She bit the inside of her cheeks, even more angry with herself for this outburst, but it didn't still their flow.

Brittany held her face, stroking her cheekbone as Santana avoided her gaze for the most part, at least until she had observed that she thought she was the reason Santana was so scared. When their eyes did lock, Brittany was shocked by the pure emotions swimming in Santana's eyes. The fear and anxiety were there, but she could also see her want, longing and frustration. Her voice was surprisingly strong, rebuking the thought of Brittany ever scaring her, even though Brittany knew, in a way, she had. Even if Santana, of course, wasn't afraid of her, something she'd done had sparked fear.

She remained silent though, watching Santana stop herself, her features tense as her entire body shook like a tuning fork, vibrating with the amount of emotion Santana had inside. It made Brittany hurt to watch, how Santana struggled, and she knew by the look on her face that she was mad at herself, mad that she had gotten scared and put a stop to it. It was the same fiery-scared look Santana had had in high school, desperately wanting to be with Brittany publicly, but terrified and constrained by her fears of being out.

"Stop," Brittany hushed when Santana hit her own thigh, the tears in her shining eyes finally spilling over, hot and heavy against Brittany's hands. She kept her hands where they were, using her thumbs to gently swipe away Santana's tears as they fell, soft and loving. Leaning down, Brittany captured Santana's lips in a delicate kiss for a few moments, feeling the wetness against her own cheeks. She kissed her until she had to pull away to breathe, but kept her face that close to her, feeling Santana's eyelashes brush against her cheek with how near their faces were to one another.

"I love you too, Santana, and I love what we were just doing," Brittany said, wanting to carefully reframe the situation for her. "Even though we stopped, even though we didn't take all our clothes off, I still loved it because I got to be close to you," She explained. She knew, in the past, having sex was usually fast and fun and something they did often, touching each other without reservation or hesitation. "But it's okay if I scared you, and you don't have to tell me I didn't, because I know I did. I know you're not scared of me, but it's okay. I know you didn't want to stop," Brittany said, confessing that she saw the desire swimming in Santana's eyes and knew how much she wanted to will her body to keep going.

"It's good to stop if something doesn't feel good to every part of you," Brittany went on simply. "Maybe that felt good to your body but not your mind, because of what happened," She ventured. "And that's okay, because it won't always be like that. I know you want to be with me, and I want to be with you too, and that'll happen one day," Brittany mused gently.

Santana's tears came heavier when Brittany held her face so lovingly, simply thumbing them away as they came. She sobbed against Brittany's hands, her breath stuttering when Brittany kissed her, delayed in kissing her back, but when the instinct to do so finally hit she responded with desperation, her hands running up Brittany's back and then gripping the back of her sports bra, her nails scrabbling almost hard enough to scratch to grasp her. She felt her blurred vision blur further as Brittany stayed close to her, forehead to forehead, and spoke in response.

She tried to listen, but the words, as careful and loving as they were, didn't entirely calm Santana's emotions. She kept hold of Brittany, sniffling, and took a hitching breath before answering.

"But what if I can't ever do anything? What if it is always this way? It's not fair to you. You don't deserve this, you need to have more. You shouldn't have to wait for something that might never even happen. You...you just shouldn't."

Brittany tried to press as much love as she possibly could into Santana with her mouth, as if just kissing her could transfer some of Brittany's calm into her body. She felt Santana's hands gripping for purchase, holding tight to the straps on the back of her sports bra as she cried. Brittany hushed her quietly, tucking her hair behind her ear, pushing it back off of Santana's shoulder. She knew Santana's frustration had been a build up of their past experiences where she'd stopped them once they'd hit a point, knowing it was never a topic they'd actually talked out fully or really thought about. Every time they'd ended up in one of these situations, it had just sort of happened, kissing that they'd taken further because it was second nature to both of them.

She pressed kisses to Santana's forehead and temples as she spoke, knowing that Santana was finally getting out her unfiltered thoughts and fears. She hated seeing Santana upset, but loved when Santana talked like this, knowing it was complete and total honesty, her real fears, making it easy for Brittany to understand what exactly it was that was upsetting her and take care of those specific needs.

"Santana," Brittany cooed, "I love you, but I think you're getting ahead of yourself." She hummed, resting her forehead against Santana's again. "I know you're upset and I know you're frustrated and wanted to keep going, but it's okay. It doesn't mean you're never going to be able to do anything or have sex ever again." Brittany knew Santana had a tendency to panic and jump to the worst possible conclusion, and she wanted to lead her away from it gently. "What happened is still really, really recent Babe, and we've never even really talked about sex or tried other things," Brittany pointed out, because they hadn't.

"I think it's confusing for you because we know each other's bodies, so it's easy for us to just want to do everything because it's familiar, you know? But now things are different, and not bad different, just different," She shrugged, pressing a kiss to Santana's mouth again. "We can figure things out. It's not about me deserving something, Babe. I want to be with you but I want to be with you when you feel good about everything we're doing and you feel safe," Brittany promised. "And we'll get there. We can talk about things and figure stuff out and do things a little at a time, like just kissing or laying together without our clothes on without every single thing having to end in sex." Brittany suggested softly. She was sad for Santana, understanding where her fears lay, but also knowing that it was a problem they could most likely solve.

Santana's fingers slowly loosened from holding on so tightly to the straps of Brittany's sports bra, and her tears began to lessen in their urgency. Still, she sniffled and fought for breath, even as Brittany did all she could with her touch and kisses and soothing words to comfort her.

"But it wasn't recent," she muttered shakily. "It was July, and now it's March. That's nine whole months, if I had gotten pregnant there would be a baby by now. I just want to be normal. I just want to be okay, because I know I'm supposed to be, I know I am with you, but it feels like I'm not. It's like my body screams at me that I'm not. I don't get it. I hate it."

She let her forehead stay against Brittany's, trying to soak in comfort from her touch. "What if I never do get there though?" she sniffled. "What if this always how it is? You wouldn't be okay with that. No one could ever be okay with that. I'm not even okay with that!"

Brittany stroked the damp skin of Santana cheek as she spoke, knowing, to Santana, she was falling short of an expectation she had set up for herself, that she thought she should be a certain way and was upset with herself that she wasn't yet. "Nine months is not a long time, San," Brittany pointed out softly. "What happened was big and life changing and hard and you deserve patient and all the time in the world. Nine months wasn't a long time ago, but look how far you've come overall, right? Your nightmares don't happen every night, and now we go to therapy and your eating is getting better and there's so many things you've worked so hard on already." She reminded gently, knowing Santana wanted to be good at everything, wanted everything to work out and be "normal" even though no one was holding her to anything.

She listened carefully as Santana, for the first time, really, described how it felt and how it felt okay and not okay at the same time, nodding gently as she spoke, sliding to wrap her arms around Santana's neck as they rested their heads against each other. "I think your body is trying to protect you," Brittany started softly. "Not from me, exactly, but from getting hurt again. We just have to, little by little, show your body that it's a good thing and it's a safe and beautiful thing and something that's supposed to make you feel good," She said, her voice whisper soft.

Brittany knew when Santana asked all of her what-ifs that she was just getting her frustrations out, always questioning the worst-case scenario, like she wanted to be prepared if it actually came true. It reminded Brittany of the 15-year-old Santana she once loved, always skittish around sex and actually talking about it. She'd come so far since then, but it made Brittany's heart tug to see her so upset about a subject that also once scared her a decade ago.

"Shhhh, that's not going to happen and it's not going to always be like this," Brittany said, quietly dismantling Santana's deepest fears. "There are lots of things we can try, and things we can talk through to figure out what you like now and what feels good," She hushed. "We haven't even tried anything different, Babe, or talked out it. All the times we've made out they just happened, but we can figure out what parts of sex make you nervous and we can work around it or try something different," Brittany promised. "We can make the both of us feel good, we just have to try different things."

Santana breathed against Brittany's skin, burrowing further into her embrace as she tried to listen and take in what Brittany was telling her. Nine months felt like forever and like no time at all to her, all at the same time. Saying it out loud, the amount of time that had passed, made it sound to her like a long enough time that she should have long ago moved on and been "normal" again. But Brittany didn't seem to think so. Would she feel the same way, if it had been Brittany instead of herself?

Instantly she knew the answer. Of course not. She would never judge or blame Brittany for needing as long as she had to take to recover, even if it took the rest of their lives. It felt so different for herself than for Brittany though.

She sighed, nodding a little against Brittany. It felt true, what she was saying, that her body, as frustrating as it was, was trying to protect her, keep her safe. She was safe, but she couldn't make her body believe that yet entirely.

"How do I make my body work right again?" she mumbled, her voice softer even than Brittany's. "How do I make it know it's safe? It should just know. It's you. My body should know it's you."

She paused. "What kind of things could we try?"

Brittany welcomed the contact, sliding her arms around Santana's torso in a hug from where she sat on her lap. She knew Santana was turning all of this over in her mind, thinking through everything Brittany was saying, pointing out things that were so different from Santana's own judgments of herself and harsh critiques. Santana had always come down so hard on herself when she didn't measure up to her own standards, even though no one else was holding her to the same standards or expecting her to be a certain way, and least of all Brittany.

"Your body works right now," Brittany argued softly, knowing Santana was especially vulnerable right then. "I think you know it's me- you always know it's me." Brittany pointed out, because that much was true. "When you're scared or you have a nightmare or get upset your body knows to reach for me, right? And I can always feel your body calm down when I'm holding you." She said, twirling the ends of Santana's hair through her fingertips, not wanting her to think her own body didn't recognize Brittany. "You know, San." She assured. "But when it comes to sex and things like that, I think you know it's me, but your body is also scared because you remember what happened to you and it's trying to protect you." She offered gently. "So it's still scary, even though you know it's me and you know I'd never hurt you," Brittany offered.

"We'll just see what feels good and what makes your body relax and feel good instead of get scared." Brittany said it like it was that simple, even though she knew that it wasn't. As Santana paused, she knew she was thinking again, testing out Brittany's own thoughts in her mind, thinking them over. When she asked what sort of things they could try, Brittany smiled a little, pressing a soft kiss to Santana's mouth.

"I have no idea, Babe," She answered honestly, "But I guess that's kind of the point. We won't know until we try. But we can just see what makes you feel good and what doesn't. Like, we don't have to take all your clothes off, and we can go slow, and talk to each other, and maybe you can touch me first, and see how that makes your body feel. Or I could touch you over your underwear or over you leggings." Brittany rattled of a few things that might seem less scary to her. "And I can tell you what I'm going to do before I do it so you know what's going to happen next. And we could always keep a lamp on or something, so you can always see me, or it doesn't always have to be laying down."

Brittany shrugged, knowing there were about a million other things that they could "try." She paused for a moment, skating her hand through Santana's hair, letting her think over some of the things she suggested, letting her contemplate how they sounded to her and consider them. After a beat, she asked, "You tell me what kind of things we could try. What sounds like it feels good to you?" She wondered aloud.

Even as Brittany sat on her lap, she was holding Santana more than Santana was truly holding her. Santana kept her arms tight around her, wanting and needing as much contact as possible as she continued to slowly calm down, pondering through the confusing mess of her own thoughts and feelings and those that Brittany's reframing were forming anew.

It was true, Santana's body did seem to recognize and seek Brittany most of the time- nearly 100%. It was seeking her out right now. Her body automatically turned towards Brittany for comfort and affection, for sharing a smile or joke, constantly pulled towards her in an effort to connect when they were apart. It didn't seem fair that her body would then betray her, as Santana viewed it, by balking and halting everything when sex came into the picture.

She stayed quiet as Brittany continued to calm her with her words and suggestions, her tears stopped, continuing to process. She had never considered any of Brittany's ideas on ways to try sex differently. She had always just assumed that sex with Brittany should be the way it always had been- jumping in on impulse, no plans, just going for it.

As Brittany pressed a kiss to her mouth, then stroked her hair, Santana leaned further still into her, her body growing heavy with the tiring aftermath of her anxiety and her crying. She tried to think through what Brittany had suggested, to pinpoint what exactly it was that had driven her to anxiety. Finally she said with some hesitation, "I think...maybe it was you on top of me. I think that...it made me think of being held down. I know you weren't," she added quickly, her eyes going to Brittany's, wanting to reassure her. "I know that. I just...I think maybe I felt that a little bit even though it wasn't true."

Brittany let them lapse into a comfortable silence, knowing Santana had a lot to think about, giving her the time to consider what Brittany was saying and suggesting, knowing she had to come back down from the panic of thinking that she'd never be able to have sex and that her body would be like that forever. She held her there, feeling Santana's warm, bare skin against her own, her hand gently combing through locks of Santana's hair.

When she felt Santana lean further into her after the kiss, her body solid and heavy, Brittany hummed into her mouth. "Let's switch places," She said, keeping her hands on Santana's ribcage, climbing off of her lap and arranging her own legs underneath her so Santana could crawl into her lap and rest her body against hers as Brittany settled back against the couch cushions, letting lay on her as she continued to contemplate different ways that might make sex less intimidating for her.

Nodding, Brittany rubbed Santana's back gently as she voiced her observation. She could hear the trepidation in Santana's voice, like she wasn't entirely sure of herself or sure about telling Brittany her thoughts. "That makes sense San," Brittany agreed quietly, nodding when Santana held her gaze, wanting her to know she wasn't offended by Santana's anxiousness. "It can be scary to be laying flat on your back," She agreed, "I think I'm so used to you wanting me to lead, like when you used to get nervous before, in a different way," Brittany explained, referring to when they were younger and, although aching with want, Santana was still anxious during sex and assumed the bottom role almost all of the time. "But we can see how different positions feel like," Brittany repeated, "Or you can lay on top of me now, and we can do it like that. And I can still help you, but I can be. underneath you," She suggested, offering to still guide Santana while letting her be on top. "Plus, you know I always thought it was super hot when you were on top," She grinned, pressing a kiss to Santana's cheek. "Keep going, this is good." Brittany encouraged, "What else?"

Grateful that Brittany could sense her high need for being the one to be held as much and as fully as possible without her having to actually voice it, Santana allowed Brittany to switch, curling into her lap and resting her head on Brittany's shoulder, arms rewrapping around her waist as she murmured against her, "Don't let me hurt your stomach." She was still mindful of Brittany being sick.

As Brittany rubbed her back, Santana closed her eyes, enjoying the gentle comfort of the touch. She inhaled Brittany's scent, fully grounding herself in all she can of Brittany's unique bodily presence close to her. As she opened her eyes again after speaking to look back at her, she was relieved to see that Brittany didn't look upset or startled by her words. Still, she's a little confused by Brittany's wording.

"Lay on top of you like right now? Like, start trying again now?"

She doesn't want to hurt her feelings when Brittany is being so understanding, but she's feeling a little too shaken now to go into sex right off. She tries to keep the surprise and apprehension out of her expression as she tries to think of an answer to her question.

"Um...talking to me maybe would help? So I keep hearing that it's you? I don't know. Uh...saying my name sometimes, maybe. Maybe...ugh, I don't know. I've never had to talk about sex before. Especially with you."

"You're not hurting it," Brittany soothed, smiling at how eager Santana curled up in her lap. She wrapped her arms around her in return, letting her bask in the safety and security of being held, knowing it had a huge effect on Santana, especially when they were talking about such a sensitive topic. It was unknown territory for both of them, having to really talk about sex and think about things that felt good- usually it was something they just did and everything felt good, listening to each other's bodies without having to stop and consider things. And while she knew things were undoubtedly different now, to Brittany, she knew it could still be good, it could still be amazing, because it already was.

Every time Santana reached for her, or curled up on her like she was in that moment, each one of those instances was beautiful and intimate in itself without it having to be sexual at all. And that, to Brittany, was most important, being able to connect with Santana in that way despite everything that happened.

When Santana questioned her, her voice pitching with uncertainty, Brittany smiled into Santana's hair. "No, not right this minute Babe, just from not on, something we can try next time and see how it feels," She said, not sure when next time would be but knowing it would definitely be different, now that they were discussing it.

As Santana suggested what she thought might work, Brittany nodded, making sure to listen to all of her suggestions. She agreed with them, for the most part, Santana always reacted to the sound of her voice and the sound of her name from Brittany, and she knew, in any other situation, just letting Santana hear the sound of her voice was enough to significantly calm her down. "I think that's a good idea," Brittany nodded, letting Santana know it was a good start to their approach. "It's okay," She soothed at Santana's frustration. "Believe me, I know, I've never really talked about it either." She nodded, smiling. Santana was right, they'd never really had a discussion about it.

They were too young to even put words to what it was back then, to put words to their feelings was something Brittany never thought to do and something Santana definitely did not want to do in high school, and by the time they'd worked out their emotions and started actually dating, they'd been having sex and making love for so long that they knew every part of each other and never had to question their roles, never had to question if the other person liked something, never had to question anything. Even when she was fumbling an uncertain, Santana was more open with Brittany during sex than she was normally, because their bodies conveyed everything that Santana didn't want to say, and in those moments that they lay together after, Brittany soaked up every second of her being warm and vulnerable and open and just Brittany's and Brittany's alone.

"Next time we feel like it, we'll just talk to each other and go slow and it'll be just as perfect as it's always," Brittany promised, "Even if we don't go all the way or do everything or take all our clothes off, the whole point is to just be close to each other."

Santana exhaled, still wrestling with absorbing everything they've talked about, everything that Brittany has promised and that they've tried to sort out together. She feels small and vulnerable and weary, with her body itching with her usual and frequent desire to just hide her face against Brittany to block out the rest of the world, even her own feelings and thoughts. But she makes herself stay still, just folding into her chest, and nods slightly as Brittany speaks.

It was so hard for her to talk about this, or even to listen to Brittany talk about it. It was hard to even think about it. Why did something that had once been so simple and instinctive and beautifully in sync have to become so complicated? Santana wasn't used to any sort of physical connecting with Brittany being work, and she didn't like it.

"I don't like the talking," she grumbled aloud softly. "I just want it to be like it was before. I don't want you to have to think so much, I don't want to have to think so much. I want to just be able to be with you and not be so lame about it. You shouldn't have to do all this, Britt."

Brittany has promised her before that she will never be tired of Santana, that she will always be willing to take the difficulties that come with loving her. But even having heard this, Santana still has that lingering guilty fear that maybe one day Brittany's patience with her will wear out.

Brittany ran her fingers through Santana's hair as Santana lay against her chest, her head rising and falling with the breaths Brittany was taking, steady and lulling, feeling Santana nod in agreement to her comforts. She could tell Santana didn't like the conversation and that she was maybe even a little uncomfortable talking about it, having to adjust to the idea that sex was no longer something that was effortlessly communicated between them, but something they truly did need to talk through and relearn as they discovered what made Santana most comfortable and feel the best during.

"Talking isn't bad," Brittany mused, "But I know what you mean. And I don't think it'll always be like this- I mean, one day, we'll know exactly what the other likes and what they want and it will be second nature just like it was before," Brittany promised, "We just have to take our time figuring out what makes you feel good and safe at the same time," Brittany said, knowing it was as equally important to her as it was to Santana and, while it would be different moving forward, she never wanted to put Santana in a position where she felt even the slightest bit uncomfortable.

"It'll still be just as beautiful as before, we just have to try new things and soon it'll be just as easy as it was before," Brittany swore, knowing, regardless of how much they had to talk or figure things out, the magical intimacy of it wouldn't be lost. Humming in the back of her throat when Santana protested that Brittany shouldn't have to do this, Brittany shook her head gently. "You're right," She pointed out, "But you shouldn't have to do all this either. Nobody should." Brittany reminded, knowing Santana was instantly focused on feeling guilty about it instead of also realizing that she too didn't deserve any of this.

"You should be able to feel comfortable and loved and in control regardless, and someone tried to take that away from you, and that will never be fair," Brittany said, feeling a lick of anger in her chest although her voice was calm. "But letting me be with you and make you feel good was, like, the most beautiful gift you've ever given me Santana, because I knew back then that it was a part of you that only I could see," She said, referring to their early days of making love, when Santana was vulnerable and fragile and still trusted Brittany not to break her in those delicate moments. "And the fact that you were trusting me to look at all of you and touch all of you and make you feel good was the biggest thing to me, and I felt so special that you let me," She continued. "And we can both figure out how to get there again because I still think it's the most special thing with you," Brittany promised softly, knowing that she would do absolutely anything to give Santana even a little bit of her power back and be able to be intimate again without fear.

"You make me feel good," Santana said quickly when Brittany continued to reassure her, lifting her head enough to look up into Brittany's eyes. "You always make me feel good. Sometimes I just make myself feel bad."

She paused, wanting to emphasize this. "You make me feel safe too. Safer than anyone or anything else on earth. But I hate that this isn't easy right now. It should be. It isn't fair."

Although Brittany was speaking calmly as she validated that it wasn't fair, that Santana herself shouldn't have to deal with how she felt, Santana felt her throat choke, and she blinked back tears that she was determined this time not to start shedding. Clearing her throat, she tightened her arms around Brittany's waist.

She remembered too how it had been simultaneously so easy and effortless yet also so very hard, when she and Brittany first started hooking up so long ago. She had been so young and so scared, so stuck on her ideas of what a girl should be and what a popular cheerleader girl, especially, was allowed to do and feel. But no matter how mean she got or how scared she was, Brittany had been there, literally holding her hand and guiding her through, accepting but never enabling. It had been special. Brittany was right on that, and she was the person who had made it that way.

SIghing, Santana rubbed her hand lightly over Brittany's side. "I want you to always know how special you are. No matter what I do or say, you're always special to me. Always. I always love you. This isn't about you. I wish I could just make it different without having to figure all this out."

Brittany held Santana's gaze as she spoke, knowing what she was saying was important to her and therefore, equally as important to Brittany. She nodded, feeling the warm curl of love around her heart, knowing how badly Santana wanted to make sure Brittany knew that, regardless of their daily struggles. She felt her own throat prickle, plainly hearing the emotion thickening Santana's voice as she spoke, and she felt a wave of protectiveness wash over her, knowing that Santana was serious when she spoke, knowing that she truly, out of everyone, was the one person in the entire world that made Santana Lopez feel safe, that got to see Santana in every form. She couldn't begin to understand how she'd been given that honor, that gift, speechless in knowing that Santana was hers and hers alone.

She nodded again, showing Santana that she understood, watching Santana swallow hard. Leaning down, she capture Santana's lips in her own in a tender, emotional kiss, hugging Santana tighter to her. "I know," Brittany whispered, because she did. "I know I make you feel good, but the actions scare you," She clarified, still not wanting Santana to feel the guilt she harbored. "I know it's not about me," She promised. From the outside, it was so clear to Brittany to separate Santana from her trauma, she could see how badly she wanted it, how open she was with Brittany almost all of the time, compared to when certain things sparked memories.

"It doesn't hurt my feelings," Brittany said out loud, knowing Santana needed to hear it. "I know it's not about me," She repeated, "I feel bad that it scares you San, and that you have to go through all of this, but I swear we can figure it out. We'll both keep trying until we figure it out," Brittany nodded, her heart squeezing with love as Santana promised that she was special and that she loved her. "And I love you back," Brittany repeated instantly. "And you're always the most special thing to me, and that has nothing to do with how much sex we have or don't have, Santana." Their relationship had always involved a lot of sex, but throughout the years it had evolved into something completely beyond that, something with such strong emotional depth that Brittany never, ever questioned the strength of their love.

"I feel like you're afraid that you're letting me down or that you have to be able to sleep with me by a certain time or I'm going to get tired of you and leave or something." Brittany sighed finally, thinking back to all the things Santana had said in their conversation, how frustrated she was with herself and how many times she'd insisted it wasn't fair to Brittany or something she shouldn't have to go through, how many things that weren't true at all from Brittany's perspective. "And you're not letting me down."

Santana kissed Brittany back with some neediness mingled in with the tenderness she returns to Brittany, wanting to convey as clearly as possible just how much she does want and need and love Brittany. She fists a handful of Brittany's hair in her hand, tugging lightly, and kisses her with short, repeated rhythm, pulling away briefly with each kiss so she could make sure a different part of her mouth is covered and given attention to, every single inch. Her free hand splays as wide as it can between Brittany's shoulder blades, pressing down enough she can feel her heart beat through her back.

As Brittany whispered against her lips, her words tender, reassuring, and full of promises of her love for her, Santana let her forehead rest against Brittany's, trying to take it all in and accept it. As Brittany reminded Santana of how special she was to her, Santana initially softened, her lips curving into a small smile, but that disappeared when she bluntly started talking about the fact that they weren't having sex.

Santana tried to pull her face away, to turn completely on Brittany's lap so she couldn't see her face. She is fighting the warring inner battles of wanting to pull away so Brittany can't see how much her words are hitting her, how true they are and how much her own secret fears have hurt her, and wanting to admit she's right and curl close to her for the reassurance Brittany is trying to provide. Her body seems to compromise by freezing, neither sliding off her lap nor pulling in closer, as Brittany continues to speak.

She was right, every word she said was right. Santana was terrified that eventually, Brittany's patience would run out, that she would realize it wasn't worth having Santana as a girlfriend when it meant celibacy for the undetermined future to come. It had been hard enough to ask that of her when they were on tour, when they could have phone sex and go at it almost nonstop when Brittany had a break to come visit. Now that she was right here, constantly with Brittany, and yet still freezing up and backing off every time they got close to crossing some imaginary sexual line, Santana did feel like it was unfair to her.

She did feel like she was too much and not enough for Brittany, all at the same time. She did feel like she was letting her down every time she let another day pass without having sex. And she did feel like Brittany was going to get tired of her eventually, that she was going to realize that a life without sex indefinitely, when their relationship before had been so heavily involving it, was not one she was okay with or happy with. How could she be? How could Brittany be satisfied?

"I don't want to talk about it," Santana muttered, her shoulders tense, not meeting Brittany's eyes. But although she said that, she barely let a second lapse before she burst out with, "But you've never had a relationship where the other person wouldn't have sex. You love sex. How could you possibly be okay with this? How can you not be disappointed? I get your hopes up and then slam the door shut every time. If you were a guy your balls would be bluer than Cookie Monster's."

Brittany could tell she'd struck a nerve by the way Santana tried to twist away from her, only partially pulling away before pausing, not wanting to pull completely away from Brittany or separate the two of them. Santana had just been pressed against every part of her body, her hands on Brittany's back, and then just like that, she tried to turn away, as if if she didn't look at Brittany, it wouldn't make it true. She sighed, holding Santana by the waist, gently applying pressure to the soft divot between where Santana's ribs ended and her hipbone began, trying to get her attention and stop her from trying to twist her face away from her. She knew Santana was upset by what she'd said, by the fact that she'd called her out on her own insecurity, saying the thing she feared most out loud.

"San," Brittany said, waiting for Santana to look at her. She knew Santana had been frustrated about the fact that she'd been getting anxious during moments of intimacy, but she didn't realize how much that fear spilled over into guilt and fear that Brittany would one day leave. It wasn't even something that had occurred to Brittany, and the confirmation that it was something so important to Santana had caught her off guard. It was another moment, among many, where Brittany realized she and Santana saw the situation completely differently, and how they could both be talking about the same thing and yet have two entirely different perceptions of how the other person viewed it.

Santana's voice was tense when she finally did speak, sounding, in that moment, as young and vulnerable as she'd ever had, throwing out the excuse that she didn't want to talk about it, something Brittany had heard so many times before. Brittany almost smiled at the statement - she knew that Santana knew that excuse wouldn't get her anywhere - that Brittany would talk about it with her, because she never wanted Santana to sit with emotions or believe things that weren't true. That excuse had worked with Santana's family and their friends, but never Brittany. She almost opened her mouth to tell her so before Santana beat her to it, bursting forth with her questions and silencing whatever Brittany had been about to say.

Her words dying on her lips, she listened with raised eyebrows as Santana spoke, trying not to smile at her Cookie Monster comparison because she knew Santana truly was upset, even if she was bringing Sesame Street into their sex talk. "Santana," She repeated, willing her to look at her. "I had no idea you were scared about this," Brittany confessed, taking a moment to figure out how she wanted to respond. "I-I mean, yes I love sex and we used to have a lot of it but, things are different now," She shrugged. "I can't say I want to have sex with you when I know right now it wouldn't be good for you and it would make you upset," Brittany confessed. "I've never had a relationship without sex because I've always loved the person I've been with," She said, which had been true, "And with feelings its better, and with you, it's the best, always. But only if it's the best for both of us. A-and I've never dated someone whose been assaulted, and it makes everything different, for both of us." She shook her head, her voice soft, but honest. "Sex is important to me, yes, but because it usually brings me closer to the person and it's a bonding experience and feels good. But you are most important to me, and I would never, ever pressure you or want something that you're not okay with." She answered.

Reluctantly Santana turned her face back towards Brittany, fearing what she might see in her expression. But Brittany is still regarding her calmly and with love, if with sadness as well. Santana bit her lip, listening as Brittany tried to calm her, to let her know how she felt and to soothe her fears. Santana exhaled, hearing the sincerity in Brittany's voice, and lay her head back down against her shoulder.

"Okay," she said softly, her voice small and tight as she attempted to accept what Brittany was saying. "I'm trying. I really am."

She tried to think of it in the opposite direction. If Brittany had been the one to go through what Santana had, would she feel cheated or upset if Brittany couldn't or didn't want to have sex? No, she knew immediately she would not. She would love and support and comfort her and give her all the time she would need. Somehow though it felt different when the situation was her own.

Brittany grinned as Santana turned back to her, tucking her head back against her shoulder. She let them lapse into silence as Santana rested against her again, knowing Santana needed to to process what she was saying and test it out against her own opposite thought process. She gave her time to think, rubbing her back soothingly, bare save for her bra strap. Brittany knew Santana's mind could be a dark place if she let it, and especially if she kept her thoughts inside, and wished, if only for a moment, that Santana could see the way Brittany thought of her.

When Santana spoke in her small voice, Brittany smiled, turning her head so she could press a kiss to Santana's temple as she sat, letting her lips rest against her skin for a few moments. "You don't have to try so hard all the time, Babe," She promised, and she meant it. She knew she pushed Santana a lot, with eating, with talking, in therapy, and she knew, for the most part, Santana worked her ass off to make progress, to work on the hard things. Brittany had never seen her give up, ever, and she knew, even though Santana didn't always let on, how hard it must be for her.

"I know you're trying hard and I want you to work hard so you don't feel so scared and so you can feel safer," Brittany said, "But I don't want you to work hard because you think you have to be a certain version of yourself for me." Brittany spoke honestly, understanding the way Santana's mind worked without her having to say it. Tenderly, one hand came up to brush Santana's hair off of her face, tucking it behind her ear and repeating the gesture, lovingly smoothing her hair back as she spoke. "I wish for one minute, you could see yourself the way that I do," She admitted, knowing Santana might not even recognize the person that she saw.

Brittany was still reeling a little from Santana's fears that she'd one day get tired and leave, or lose patience with her and need someone who she could have sex with, even though that was the farthest thing from Brittany's list of priorities at the moment. "I told you when I first got here that I would never leave you, when we went to that diner, remember?" She mused out loud, rambling on. "And you kept saying things like 'when you go back' or 'you can't stay here' and I couldn't figure out why until I realized that you really thought that," Brittany remembered, their first days back together, having no idea what it would be like.

"But I had already made a promise to you before I even got to the city," Brittany confessed. "When I left tour, when I left Germany, I knew I was making a decision that would change my life forever and you had no idea I was even coming. When I spoke to Kurt, when he told me what happened, all I kept hearing was how scared and easily upset you were and how you barely let even Rachel touch you or take care of you and the littlest thing could upset you. And I didn't even know if you'd let me touch you when I got there, or if you'd let me stay or let me help you," She remembered the very first time she'd seen Santana, holding her hand out to her, so uncharacteristic for how they usually acted. She'd been slow, frozen with fear almost, letting Santana touch her hand before touching her at all.

"And I had to think about all of those possibilities and how I was going to New York but you might not want to see me or date me or be with me at all. And I was ready for it," She said confidently, because she had been. "I knew what I was doing would change my life forever and that, by coming back, I was making a promise to you forever, that I'd be there." Looking back on it, Brittany realized the magnitude of that decision, although in the moment, it had been a no brainer. "But I knew that if I went back to you, regardless of if you wanted me, I had to be back, I had to be all in, and I wanted to be back. Even if you didn't want to see me, I knew I'd get an apartment in the city and just be here, to support you like a friend, to support you however much you let me, or at least to just be close and to talk to Kurt and Rachel, and to just be here if you ever decided one day that you did want me, or need me or called me at 3am or something."

She knew what she was saying was news to Santana, the first time she'd ever said this aloud to anybody, including herself. "I was prepared to live in an apartment just like this, alone, and talk to you however much you'd let me, visit the loft however much you'd let me." Brittany hadn't thought of a plan outside of that, her plans B through Z were just keep waiting and be there if she needs you.

Santana's body grew gradually more relaxed against Brittany, her head heavier against Brittany's shoulder as Brittany rubbed her back. She felt her brow's furrowed lines smooth as Brittany kissed it, and she twined her fingers with one of Brittany's hands, needing to remain closely in contact as she listened to her.

Brittany said she didn't have to try so hard, but she knew that she did. Santana had always tried hard her entire life, with everything that mattered to her. And this- regaining a normal life, having any chance of having a happy life with Brittany again- that mattered to her more than anything she could ever consider. She had to work for it, harder than she'd ever had to work for anything. It wasn't an option to do otherwise.

As Brittany stroked her hair, Santana's lips parted slightly, and she gazed back at her, still considering her words. Was she right? Was she working hard to try to get Brittany to accept her, or to be a certain way for Brittany- or because she wanted this for herself? To Santana, it felt like one and the same.

She opened her mouth, but Brittany was still speaking, reminding her of when she had first returned, of how she had promised Santana from the start, before Santana could accept or believe it, that she would never leave her. As she listened to Brittany, realizing for the first time just how determined Brittany had been to do so, no matter Santana's reaction, and no matter what would happen with her own life in the process.

She had been willing to do that, all for Santana, without knowing anything about how Santana would react or what she wanted. She would uproot her world, quit her job, and come wait for her, just for the possibility of maybe having Santana talk to her occasionally. God, Santana didn't deserve Brittany.

Her eyes glimmered with tears, and she trapped the hand in her hair with hers, squeezing it hard. When she managed to speak her voice was hoarse. "I'm glad you came. I'm glad you promised, even if maybe I shouldn't be. I'm still glad."