The day of the pride parade, Santana had restless sleep the night before. She had fidgeted and worried, her thoughts tormenting her with every possible negative or scary outcome that could occur, no matter how unrealistic, and she had secretly hoped to herself that when the morning came, the weather would be so terrible that the parade would be called off.
There was no such luck. The morning dawned bright, shiny, and clear, with not a hint of a cloud in the sky. As Santana rolled onto her back, looking with a scowl out the window of their bedroom, her stomach twisted and churned, and she decided then and there that it wasn't happening.
Crowds of people? Strangers? Lots of men, all gathered together, even if most of them had not the slightest interest in her? All sorts of possible triggers of sights and smells and sounds…no. Maybe she thought she was ready a few weeks ago, but now that the day had come, she wasn't so sure. Now, she was more inclined to want to hide.
"Britt?" she said gruffly, avoiding her eyes as she continued to stare out the window. "I don't want to go to the parade today. Let's just stay home. I think it will be boring. We can be all proud to be gay right here at home without the entire world being up in our business about it."
May had given way to June quickly, bringing a heaping of warmth and sunshine to the city, stretching daylight until the evening. The city hummed with summer and Brittany was enamored by it, thinking the added sunshine and good weather would do Santana good and help ease her back into things - they could go on more walks, they never had to walk home in the dark anymore, and there were more people on the street, heading to parks or dinners or wherever they were heading, an opportunity for Santana to get used to being in small crowds as the city was just busier.
They'd talked about Pride a few more times and Brittany had tried to keep the same noncommittal tone about it as she always had, letting Santana voice her worries and validating her feelings while offering explanations for the problems she pointed out, reminding her that they would be outside, they would be safe, and, most importantly, they had the freedom to leave if Santana got overwhelmed by something. Even still, Brittany picked up on Santana's anxiousness the night before, trying to settle her as they laid together, chest to chest, stirring in the night and knowing Santana had woken up, pulling her back against her body and murmuring small comforts until she felt Santana relax again.
When morning came, they both woke up slowly, Brittany rolling over to check her phone and respond to messages, her back to Santana where she lay, yawning as she scrolled through her notifications idly, knowing they'd have to get up soon to start getting ready and have breakfast. It was then that Santana's voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she frowned, setting her phone back on the nightstand and rolling over to face her, propping herself up on her side as she listened to Santana brush it off and explain why she didn't want to go. She let her finish, looking at her even though Santana was looking away. Scooting closer, she leaned over her, their chests pressed together, leaning down to kiss her forehead, pressing her lips to the frown between Santana's eyebrows before moving down to kiss the tip of her nose and then, finally, her mouth.
"Tell me why," She requested softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Santana shivered slightly as Brittany pulled her closer to her, a flicker of a smile crossing her lips automatically from the contact. It wasn't fair. With Brittany pressing kisses on her face, from her forehead down to her lips slowly, she can hardly keep her thoughts running in a logical direction. Brittany is just a bit distracting, and she suspects that's the endgame on her part.
Tell me why, Brittany asked of her. Santana didn't want to. She still shied away sometimes from talking about things that were hard, at least internally, but more and more she is trying, at least for Brittany, when she requests.
"It's going to be crowded," she muttered, her eyes not quite meeting Brittany's. "And loud. And smelly. And colorful. And what if people are there who don't want to be celebrating, what if they're there to yell at us or…whatever. I just don't think I want to go anymore."
Brittany stayed just as close as she was, her hair falling like a curtain, brushing against Santana's cheeks and jaw as she listened to her reasoning, knowing there was something deeper, and something that looked a lot like fear swimming under the surface of Santana's eyes.
"You're right," She hummed, propping herself up on her elbow. "It might be loud, and it probably will be crowded and colorful. I don't know about smelly, but we're in New York, so it could be," Brittany shrugged, talking through Santana's emotions with her. "But we can hang back and we don't have to go into the noise or the busy areas," She soothed, not wanting Santana to talk herself completely out of going, wanting to disarm her worries and feel out just how nervous Santana was.
Of course, she didn't want them to go if it really seemed like something that would upset Santana or be more difficult for her than it needed to be. Her tongue darted out to dampen her lips as she considered what Santana said, "You mean like protesters?" Brittany wondered, wanting to make sure she'd correctly figured out what Santana was hinting at. It was something Brittany had definitely thought of and considered pretty likely- there were always people protesting something in New York, and she knew something like this was controversial for some people.
"There could be," Brittany said honestly, not wanting to lie to her in case they did see protesters. "They're not going to hurt us, Babe. There will be plenty of people around and there's always police at stuff like this to make sure things don't get too out of hand," She soothed, bringing a hand up to trace Santana's features gently, brushing her hair back from her face tenderly, wanting to relax the frown that Santana was wearing. "We don't have to go if you don't want to," Brittany promised, "But I don't want you to scare yourself out of doing something that you wanted to do. I'll be right there with you and I swear I won't let go of you. If we see something you don't like, we don't have to stay."
Santana listened closely to Brittany's calm addressing of her concerns, her brow still furrowed. A part of her wanted to do the easy thing and just flop back onto the bed, declaring the outing they had decided on to be too hard and too much. She wasn't ready. She was nervous. She was scared, even- that wasn't inaccurate.
But as Brittany continued to reassure her that they could handle any obstacles, that she would be with her and not let her go, Santana's anxiety flickered, her stubborn desire to push herself to be better and braver and stronger beginning to unfurl again. She didn't want to disappoint Brittany; she knew the other woman had been looking forward to this. She wanted to make her proud. She wanted to make herself proud.
Sighing, she relented, reaching to take Brittany's hand in hers and squeeze. "Okay. Just for a little while. And you have to stay with me. I don't want you to go get lost."
Brittany watched Santana's face as she spoke, picking up on the stiffness of her features as she tried to shuffle around reasons that they shouldn't bother going to Pride and why it was a better idea to just stay home instead. She knew Santana truly was nervous about it, but she also knew there was part of her that truly wanted to go and have that experience. She quieted, stroking the frown on Santana's forehead until she felt her muscles relax, the tension melting out of her brow.
Grinning, Brittany brought their joined hands up to her mouth so she could kiss the back of Santana's hand lovingly, happy that Santana hadn't let her fears sabotage the part of herself that wanted to go, feeling a flutter of love in her chest, knowing that Santana trusted Brittany to bring her into a situation that possibly could be scary for her and still trusted her to take care of her. "I promise I won't go get lost and I'll keep you with me the whole time," Brittany said out loud, even though she knew Santana already knew that and she didn't have to say it. Leaning down, their hands still joined, she pressed two kisses to Santana's lips, one gentle and quick, the other lingering, tender and loving.
"If anyone should be worried about going to Pride it's me," Brittany teased, tickling Santana's ribs. "All the ladies are going to be jealous of me because I get to be with you," Brittany grinned, sliding her arms around Santana's torso and pressing her face into Santana's neck as she laughed. "Too bad for them," Brittany pressed a kiss under Santana's ear before she picked her head up, sitting up in bed with a yawn before reaching down to help Santana sit up too, smiling.
"I really think you'll like it, San," She admitted, wanting Santana to feel good about going. Brittany knew there were a lot of external factors that might be overwhelming for Santana, but she also knew it would be good for her to see so many people from the LGBTQ+ community out and about, celebrating with their partners and proud, knowing it would make Santana feel a little less alienated for being who she was and would make the words that she'd heard in the bathroom that night even further from the truth.
Santana's forehead lost its scrunched appearance as Brittany caressed her face. It was hard to stay overly tense and worried with Brittany touching her, looking into her eyes, promising her presence and protection. As Brittany kissed her hands, then her lips, Santana smiled against them before returning the kiss a little more deeply, snaking a hand around the back of Brittany's neck and resting her head briefly against her forehead.
When Brittany tickled her, she shrieked, dodging her hands and fending them off with a laugh. She surrendered to Brittany's hug and helping hand up with a lighter air to her movements, letting herself be reassured and helped up. As she made her way to the kitchen, finding her coffee cup and cereal, she managed to eat most of her meal and lost herself in the familiar, comfortable routine of sitting with Brittany, holding her hand, as she ate and drank, then moving effortlessly around each other to brush their teeth, shower, and get dressed in the bedroom and bathroom.
It was hot out, but Santana was still self conscious about showing off too much of her body, and she still didn't feel comfortable in her usual choice of short dresses or skirts. She fussed around with her clothing options, unhappy with the choices, before settling on a blue and black cheetah print t-shirt and loosely fitting black shorts. She stood in front of the mirror, frowning at herself, unsure if she liked people being able to see her legs. It's never been anything that bothered her before this year; if anything, she had taken pride in her body, at least publicly, if not always privately. But now she second guesses what she wears fairly often, concerned about attention it might draw to her and how she would feel and respond.
She knows logically that what she's wearing is conservative compared to what most of the people at the parade will be attired in. Still, she hesitates before deciding to just keep it on. It's far too hot for leggings or jeans.
Brittany lead them through their morning routine easily, keeping an eye on Santana's behavior without making it obvious that she was doing it - already knowing that if Santana seemed anxious or troubled as they continued to get ready for the day, she wouldn't bring her to Pride. She wanted Santana to go and enjoy it, but she knew if she was so nervous about it, it wasn't worth bringing her into that situation. To her pleasant surprise, Santana seemed to relax as they went about their morning, eating most of her breakfast as they sat side by side, comfortable in their intimacy. Brittany had feared that Santana's possible nerves about Pride would manifest themselves in her not wanting to eat or pushing back, but Brittany was glad that Santana seemed to let go of her tension.
Humming as they moved into their bedroom after their shower, both wrapped in towels, Brittany ran her finger through her wet hair, pulling out a pair of denim shorts and a pink tank top, sliding underwear up her legs before pulling her shorts on, followed by her top. A few feet away from her, she could tell
Santana was conflicted on what to wear, trying on clothes and then taking them off again, moving onto something else before she took that item off too. Secretly, Brittany had wondered how Santana would do with the fact that summer was coming in the city and it was getting both sunnier and hotter. Santana's go to outfits since Brittany had been back had always been long leggings or jeans and hoodies or oversized sweaters, ample clothing to cover up her entire body, something Rachel had mentioned to Brittany when she'd first gotten back.
Brittany didn't care what Santana wore, but wanted her to be comfortable in her clothes and simultaneously comfortable outside. She didn't say anything, letting Santana try on different options until she seemed to settle on something, shorts, Brittany realized. She took a step next to Santana, staring into the mirror beside her, watching her frown like she couldn't decide if she liked what she had on. "You look good, Babe," Brittany said gently, sliding her arms around Santana from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder.
Santana heard Brittany's approach before she saw her appear behind her in the mirror. As Brittany slid her arms around her, telling her she looked good, Santana leaned back into her embrace, her expression still open, softly vulnerable, as she met her eyes in the mirror.
"I haven't wore shorts in a while," she said quietly. A while meaning since the assault, ever. "I feel like my legs look weird. Naked or something."
She continued to frown at her reflection, wondering why Brittany's bare arms and legs looked normal and natural to her, when her own seemed somehow wrong, almost calling for attention. Fighting the urge to tear them off and throw on fully covering clothing, she turned abruptly, giving Brittany a quick but fierce hug.
"Let's go before I put on something that will make me die of heat exhaustion."
Brittany smiled softly as Santana explained her feelings, crossing her arms around her waist as she held her. She appreciated Santana telling her how she felt - Brittany knew, she had known ever since she'd gotten to New York, that Santana's wardrobe had drastically changed and it was more about covering as much of her body as possible with clothes that were as loose as possible than anything else. Still, Brittany viewed it as a small victory that Santana told her how she felt and why, nodding against her shoulder.
"They fit," Brittany said easily. "Do you feel comfortable?" She asked, trying to draw Santana's attention away from how her legs felt and focus on how her shorts felt on her body. She straightened up when Santana turned quickly, throwing her arms around her, facing away from the mirror. "It's okay," Brittany murmured, patting Santana's back. "You look just like everyone else. It's June, Babe, everyone's going to be in shorts and summer clothes," She soothed, knowing that assuring Santana she looked like everyone else and flew under the radar was the biggest comfort she could possibly give her.
She grinned when Santana encouraged them to get going, pulling away from her and lacing their hands together, leading her out into the living room and turning out the bedroom light. She made sure they both had their phones, slipping her credit card and ID into her back pocket and taking the house key, glancing at Mila's food and water bowl to make sure she had plenty to eat and drink before opening the door, ushering Santana out first before she pulled it shut behind her and locked it.
"This is gonna be fun," She beamed, putting the key in her pocket and taking Santana's hand in the elevator, swinging it between them as she pushed the door open into the bright city sunshine. "Jeez, it's hot," She observed, squinting her eyes up toward the sun as they walked, slowly and in no huge hurry to get any one place, ambling toward the main avenue that the parade was rolling slowly down.
They could hear it before they saw it, a few blocks away still when Brittany squinted and pointed at the crowd of people and the bright parade floats, hearing the deep thump of bass music coming from somewhere. "Wow," Brittany glowed as they approached, slowly, seeing people in all different flag patterns ahead of them, performers and parade floats in the middle of the street, flags swinging from restaurants that lined the avenue. "This is cool," Brittany said, her eyes trying to take everything in, her hand still locked with Santana's securely.
"No, I don't feel comfortable, I feel naked," Santana griped, tugging at the shorts to try to pull them down further over her thighs.
Although they were looser than they had been last year, since she was still smaller even with having regained some of her weight, she still feels that they are exposing more skin than she is fully comfortable with. Still, as Brittany patted her back and reassured her that she looked no different than anyone, that she wouldn't stand out, she felt a little less awkward. Enough to only tug at the shorts one more time before twining her fingers with Brittany's, grabbing sunglasses and slipping them over her face before heading out of the apartment with Brittany.
As they stepped outside and Brittany commented about the heat, Santana was glad she had impulsively grabbed the sunglasses. They had been intended to help herself blend more into the crowd, just in case, but now she's grateful that they block out some of the sun's intense rays too. She gripped Brittany's hand tightly and kept close, hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder, as she walked with her, letting Brittany lead just a half step ahead of her. She felt the thumping of the bass reverberate through her body and tensed, already hearing the shouts and cheers of the parade observers and performers, but took several breaths, continuing to walk.
As they approached the main avenue where the floats, performers, and marchers were currently moving through, Santana stopped and stared. She had never seen so much explosion of color in one area, even during Christmas or firework displays. It was amazing to see so many people of so many sexual orientations and gender identities, open and proud of who they were, coupled or alone, in groups or individual, many dressed brightly and flamboyantly and wearing clothes, signs, jewelry, and other markings to identify themselves as part of the LGBT community or an ally. She had never seen anything quite like it, not even at a gay bar. Her hand continued to grip Brittany's as she watched with round eyes.
"Wow."
Brittany was grinning from ear to ear as she watched Pride unfold before her. Everyone just looked so happy to be part of it, happy to be with their partners or part of the parade or even just standing on the sidewalk watching it go by. It felt like the closest thing to amusement park excitement for adults, and Brittany turned her head, watching Santana watch everyone else. She grinned at how incredulous she looked, as if she couldn't believe there were so many other gay people in the city, and so many people so freely celebrating it, an open display of love an acceptance.
"Let's go a little further," Brittany nudged, tugging her across the street until the next block was the one that held the parade. She didn't pull Santana into the throng of the crowd, hovering instead on the edge of it, enough to be able to see the main avenue and just how many people there were, all smiling and celebrating as different parts of the parade rolled by. Brittany pulled Santana closer to the edge of building so they were a bit off to the side instead of in the middle of things, slipping her arms around her from behind for the second time that day, this time to make sure Santana had safety and security at her back and could see everything happening in front of her.
"Isn't this cool?" Brittany grinned as she whispered against the shell of Santana's ear. Even she was surprised at the magnitude of Pride and just how fun and free she felt even watching it. It was so different from their every day life in the city, something so big and swelling and happy, Brittany felt lighter just being there, and she hoped Santana did too, her arms looped around her waist as they stood watching.
Santana didn't hesitate this time as she let Brittany guide her along closer to the main part of the celebrations. She still stayed close against her, in spite of the heat, glad she had thought to pull her hair back in a ponytail so it didn't hang quite so heavy down her back. As they stopped, Brittany wrapping her arms around her and whispering in her ear, Santana shivered, but it was a good shiver, born of pleasure and awe rather than fear.
Brittany was right. This really was incredibly cool. And it was all here for people like them. It was in celebration and acceptance and even joy for people like them.
Santana grinned as a group of men of various body types, all clad in a ridiculous variety of colorful tutu skirts and body painted chests, marched by. "Kurt should have joined in, or is that fashion look out this year?" She snickered, seeing a group of topless women with closely cropped hair and an array of tattoos go by next. "Babe, that's not a required look for us to be part of this, right? Not exactly my style."
As her eyes drifted, taking in all the sights to see, she suddenly became aware of a group standing off across the street from them, notedly different from the rest of the parade participants and observers. Rather than excitedly chattering and laughing and cheering everything on, this group was stern faced, lips taut in grim lines, and they were fully dressed in dark clothes that covered their arms and legs. They carried signs, which were printed in such large, bold letters that Santana could read most of them even from the distance.
"Celebration of Sin." "Faggots, Dykes, and Whores." "God Hates Gays." "Turn from your sin and repent."
Santana's stomach flipped, and she felt color drain from her face. She shrank back into Brittany's arms as her heart began to race, her body suddenly shaky, her breathing shallow. She felt suddenly sure that those people protesting, those people who truly believed her to be despicable and worthy of their hate, were able to see her alone through the crowd. What if her rapist were among them? What if they thought what he had done to her was right? What if they would do the same, as soon as they saw her? What if they tried to hurt people in the parade, or her and Brittany?
She couldn't speak her fears aloud to Brittany; her throat was too choked up to manage words. She just kept her gaze locked on the angry group, growing small and silent against her.
Brittany grinned as she watched the parade go by, people decked out in all kinds of insane attire, making Brittany wonder where they got it all from. "I feel like Kurt would never participate," Brittany giggled, trying to picture Kurt in the midst of all this. "I think he'd love it, but I could never picture him wearing that many colors at once. The Pride flag probably breaks all of his rules of fashion," Brittany grinned, knowing it was one hundred percent true. Kurt probably thought Pride was too mainstream, although she would have loved to hear his critiques on some of the outfits.
She followed Santana's gaze as the tattooed women walked by, burying her face in Santana's shoulder as she laughed at her question. "Oh I didn't tell you we're getting tattoos after?" Brittany asked, trying to keep a straight face but dissolving into a fit of laughter. "I don't think there are requirements, we would've gotten a list in the mail when we started sleeping together," She said simply, picturing them receiving a checklist with a grin. It was incredibly cool to see just how many people from all different walks of life were there celebrating, and Brittany even saw so many straight couples watching the parade too, joining in on the festivities and celebrating.
Brittany felt Santana push back against her before she noticed anything was wrong, feeling Santana's shoulder blades press into her chest, her entire body tight and tense. "What are you d-?" Brittany asked, bringing her hands up to grip the tops of Santana's arms, trying to follow where she was looking when she noticed the protestors and the signs. "Ugh," Brittany frowned, rolling her eyes, rubbing Santana's arms to sooth her. "It's okay, Babe, no ones even paying attention to them," She said, annoyed that there were protestors and not wanting Santana to get upset by them. She frowned, reading each of their signs with a dismissive shake of her head. It was almost funny, how few of them there were compared to the hundreds and maybe even thousands of people at Pride, and she was determined not to let them ruin the experience for either of them.
Santana couldn't focus on anything but the protesters across the street. When Brittany rubbed her arms she jumped, not expecting the touch, and her head whipped around to stare back at her, eyes wide and wild. She quickly turns her head back to keep an eye on the protesters, trying hard to see them clearly enough to be able to tell if any of them she recognizes.
She doesn't really hear what Brittany is saying to comfort her. The noise of the cheering crowd is a dull buzzing in her ears now, and the sound of her heart seems to pulse louder above it all. Then one of the protesters gets out a megaphone and starts shouting out Bible verses, spitting them quickly and with venomous tone.
"Repent, all you sinners, all you adulterous harlots who have turned their back on natural desires of the flesh and embraced a lifestyle of decadence and sin! Turn back to the Lord and beg his forgiveness before his wrath is unleashed upon you!"
A few of the police officers present are already headed to the man with the megaphone, making him stop shouting into it, but Santana hardly notices this. She is shaking, the man's words slamming into her brain. They sound so much like the words of her rapist. Is that how all those people see her- as a harlot, unnatural, deserving of anger and punishment? Would all of them do the same to her if they had a chance?
Santana wasn't sure what Brittany was doing or where she was taking her. She was worried about the protesters, in spite of the police now talking with them about what they could and couldn't do in public protest. She didn't want Brittany to turn her so she couldn't see them anymore. What if one slipped away and followed them and Santana couldn't see? What if they came up behind them?
"Brittany no," she tried to say, trying to keep her feet planted, but Brittany is stronger and more determined, and she's terrified that if she tries to pull away too hard she will lose her in the crowd.
She gives in and lets Brittany propel her away into a side street, although she is still shaken, afraid. As Brittany pushes up her sunglasses to look at her and takes hold of her arms, urging her to take breaths, Santana can't quite manage to do that. She tries to look past Brittany, checking if anyone is coming near them, her legs still rubbery as she leaned back against the wall.
She couldn't seem to come up with words, still, to tell Brittany what she was thinking, how she was feeling. She continued to fight for breath, not quite actively panicking, but drawing close.
"Br-britt…"
When Santana looked past her frantically, Brittany turned and did the same, checking if anyone was behind her or walking down the street. When she was sure they were alone, she turned back to Santana, one of her hands sliding under Santana's chin, tilting her head so their eyes met. "Babe, look at me, don't worry about what's going on," She coaxed, knowing it was easier said than done and what had happened had rattled Santana. Even though it was a small group compared to the relative size and impact of the people celebrating Pride, Brittany knew that Santana had zeroed in on it, getting hung up on the terrible things they'd written on their posters and had been shouting into the megaphone.
"It's okay, they were just trying to cause problems," Brittany insisted, threading her fingers through the hair at the base of Santana's skull. "The cops were about to go tell them to stop and make them leave," She soothed, although she wasn't sure they could be forced to leave, she wanted to pull Santana's mind away from them. "Just breathe, Babe. We'll just take a break here for a bit and then walk somewhere else so we don't see them anymore," She promised, not sure if Santana would even let her bring her back any closer or want to go back, but not wanting her experience to be ruined by what had happened.
Santana's eyes reluctantly met Brittany's, and she took a slow, shuddering breath, trying to obey her directions. She tried to focus on the sensation of Brittany's fingers combing through her hair, the gentle tone of her voice, and the thick, choking feeling in her throat began to ease. She began to draw breath more easily, and the nausea in her stomach began to die down.
She still didn't want to see or hear the protesters. Still, as her emotions began to calm slightly, she could sort of understand that Brittany was probably right, logically. Probably, but maybe not definitely.
"They hate us," she rasped, her eyes full of hurt and confusion as much as fear. "People who don't even know us hate us. They want to scream at us and call us names and...maybe more. Why do people hate us for who we love, I don't understand. We're just people. It's not like we're throwing a parade for serial killers or puppy torturing. It's just about...we're just being honest about who we are and who we love. Why do people hate us for that?"
Included in her thoughts of the "people" who hate her is her abuela. Why did her abuela have to hate her just for being honest and living her life in a way that was true to herself?
Brittany held her gaze, wanting to pull Santana out of the situation as much as possible and ground her in the fact that they were no longer listening to or having to see the protestors. She knew Santana was teetering on the verge of full blown panic and Brittany so badly wanted her to be able to enjoy the day and not have that negative experience serve as a marker for what Pride had been for them. She watched Santana take a staggering breath, nodding her approval, encouraging her to keep breathing.
When Santana voiced her question, Brittany swallowed the tightness in her throat. Santana was asking questions Brittany truly didn't have answers for, but she knew Santana was relying on her for a response, needing answers from Brittany to put her heart at ease based on what she'd seen. Her Santana, who still so heavily valued the opinions of others, even protestors, filled with fear and worry about why they disliked her. "Honey, they don't even know us, they can't hate us," Brittany pointed out softly. "They hate the idea of us because they think they have a say in who we choose to love and go to bed with," Brittany said, her voice gentle, but resolute. "They think love is just one thing, which sucks for them, because it doesn't seem like they have a lot of love in their life and they're missing out." Brittany assured her.
"They just don't understand," She slid her arms around Santana's waist again, leaning against her. "Which doesn't give them a right to protest or say things like that, but they think it does, and they're wrong. God doesn't make mistakes like this." Brittany was referring to the two of them, their love the holiest thing that she'd ever known. "Think about how many people we just saw in the parade and with their partners and stuff- do you think God made that many mistakes?" She asked, knowing that it was simply impossible. Loving Santana made her feel closer to heaven than she'd ever felt before, that was something Brittany had never doubted. "I love you, Santana." She whispered. "I love loving you and I love who you are. And we're just being in love while those people have to deal with their anger and hatred all the time." Brittany said, pressing her lips against Santana's temple.
"I don't get it," Santana said softly, wrapping her arms tightly around Brittany and squeezing, burying her face in the familiar, comforting curve of her neck and shoulder's meeting place. "I just don't get it. Why do they care so much? Why can't they just let us be and live their lives and let us live theirs, and they can disapprove or think we're sinners, but just shut up about it?"
She shuddered a little, trying to force the grim faces and vicious words from her mind, to not let her mind make any connections to anything from her previous experience. She focuses on breathing in Brittany's scent, listening to her words and feeling her arms, and speaks again softly, the words small and shamed.
"I used to be like them. In high school. I was really mean to Kurt and Blaine and other people, and I didn't even know why I was doing it, I just did it because I felt like I had to. I know I was young, and scared, and confused, but it was wrong. It was really, really wrong. I wasn't any different than them. I never even said I was sorry. Why haven't I ever told Kurt or Rachel or Blaine I was sorry?"
She took another steadying breath, taking comfort in Brittany's words. She was right. It seemed impossible that God could have made so many people who loved the same gender, that it could all be wrong.
"I love you," she whispered back. "I've loved you before I even knew it, before I even knew you. My heart just knew, before my brain did. It's always been you, Brittany."
Brittany drew Santana close to her body, knowing Santana needed the steady solidity and the pressure of Brittany's embrace to calm her nerves and anxiousness. She felt a flicked of anger, of annoyance at those people trying to ruin their day, not wanting them to take this from Santana. Santana had already done so much - she was wearing shorts, she got over her morning nerves about coming and she'd even let Brittany guide her to the edges of the crowd, all things that made Brittany feel so proud of her. And for a moment, it was good, and she saw how Santana took everything in, wide-eyed and happy before her attention had been pulled to the protestors.
She knew without either of them even saying it that Santana took their words personally, even if the protestors never ever saw them or knew them. It struck home for Santana in a million ways that Brittany wished it didn't, and Brittany pressed a kiss to the top of Santana's head as she spoke.
"They think who we love is their responsibility, which it's not." Brittany spoke into Santana's hair. "And they don't understand us so they won't even let us celebrate in peace, which is annoying because nobody's ever out protesting straight people. They just are small minded and want control." Brittany felt Santana shrink against her, wanting to quiet her worries and not let her dwell on the protestors.
When Santana spoke, Brittany frowned, opening her mouth to cut her off but ultimately letting her continue, wanting to see where she was going with it. "Babe," Brittany started, almost pulling away so she could look at Santana's face but knowing Santana needed more time to soak in her comfort. "You did not used to be like that. You being mean to Kurt in high school is not the same thing as showing up to a Pride parade telling gay people they're going to Hell," Brittany said, knowing Santana was often too hard on herself, stunned that she would even see any similarities between herself and the protestors. "You were young, we all were, I was just as bad half the time. And Rachel wasn't always nice to you in return," Brittany reminded gently, knowing that Santana usually cast the first insult but Rachel held her own more than once.
"They know we love them, all of that is in the past, Babe." She soothed, not wanting Santana to mull over the fact that she'd never given them a formal apology. "And not that being mean was okay, but you were dealing with a lot, and the world wasn't always nice to you." Her voice was quiet, saying a lot of things without saying them at all, gently prodding Santana to cut her younger self a little bit of slack for all the things she'd had to deal with in life, the things that made her build her walls so high and be so unwilling to let people in.
Grinning, Brittany buried her face in Santana's shoulder at her confession. "We won," She whispered under her ear. "See? Those people were shouting all those things and you still just told me you loved me and they didn't change that, they'll never change that," Brittany whispered, pressing a kiss to her neck. "It's always been you too, San."
Santana has always secretly loved it when Brittany gets angry or irritated; she shows it so bluntly, when she so normally is calm and unruffled, that it's always given her something of a thrill to see. Plus, Brittany can be really downright cutting to the point of being funny sometimes when she's angry, and Santana enjoys hearing Brittany's anger now, knowing that it's on her behalf, because of the protesters upsetting her.
She exhaled into Brittany's neck as Brittany tried to reassure her that she had never been like the protesters. She didn't fully believe or accept what she was saying. She had never thought that Brittany was anywhere near as mean as she was, and she had always thought Brittany was mostly following her and Quinn's lead. She did give a small smile into Brittany as she mentioned Rachel firing back at her. It still hurt to think of some of the insults Rachel had sometimes flung back at her; Santana had never forgotten the shock, shame, and fear she had felt when Rachel told her she would end up on a pole, especially because she had believed it could be true. Rachel could sometimes be surprisingly biting herself with her remarks.
Her smile grew a little more as Brittany reminded her that she was still loved and loving, that their love had won. Tightening her embrace, she nodded, exhaling another sigh as she attempted to process and accept this.
"Yeah...they can't change it. And I don't want them to. No matter what."
Brittany let her words sink in, feeling Santana's exhale against her neck, rubbing her back in slow strokes, feeling her gradually relax in her arms as they stood against the building on a shady street, the festivities of Pride sounding nothing more than dull background noise. It was nice, feeling like they were surrounded by something big and noisy and bustling without feeling like they were truly in the middle of it or overwhelmed by it. They were out in public in the middle of a huge city and somehow, it still felt like they were the only two people in the world.
"They'll never change my mind," Brittany promised resolutely, knowing that was simply impossible. She knew she wanted to spend her entire life with Santana and nobody, protestor or not, could ever really change Brittany's mind or even make her consider otherwise. It was a feeling she knew deep in her bones, and just as much as Brittany was herself, Santana was part of her, and had been for as long as Brittany could ever remember. "I wish you didn't have to hear that," Brittany confessed gently, resting her head against Santana's. She knew, as much as Brittany hated to hear it, it was so much worse for Santana, who was all too familiar with homophobic messages like that.
Pulling her head away so that she could look at Santana, their bodies still pressed together, Brittany stroked her hair back from her face, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Are you okay?" She asked earnestly, knowing Santana would give her an honest answer. Santana had calmed down considerably, but she didn't want to make her uncomfortable or upset her. "Do you want to go back or go home?" Brittany wondered, leaving the situation up to Santana entirely. "The protestors have probably separate by now, and we'll walk down a few streets so we don't see them anymore, but if you've had enough for the day we can just go," She promised.
Santana too took comfort in the distant noise of the parade and its attendees, finding it strangely soothing to hear them from afar while still secluded and safe with Brittany. She felt her muscles ease their tension and her stomach's taut, acidic anxiety dissolve, until she was simply loose and calm in Brittany's embrace. She nodded against Brittany, agreeing with her that when it came to her feelings, nothing could ever change her mind. She would die gladly rather than live a life without being able to freely love and be loved by Brittany S. Pierce.
"Well...people suck. Not like I don't know that by now," she murmured in response to Brittany, shifting her head so she was better able to speak clearly without her mouth muffled against her neck and shoulder. "I don't know why I bother to be surprised by it anymore, it's not like that will probably ever totally change."
When Brittany pulled back enough to look at Santana more closely, still holding her against her, Santana thought about her answer, more briefly than she might have anticipated a few moments ago. She nodded in response to Brittany asking her if she was okay, her face setting into determined lines.
"Yeah. I'm okay. I just got scared. But I don't want them to ruin things. Let's go back. Just, to a different area now, okay?"
Brittany held Santana close to her, feeling her body loosen as they stood, the sun warm on her shoulders. She'd have freckles by the end of the day, she knew, across her shoulders and the bridge of her nose. When Santana spoke it was honest, blunt, but it made Brittany's heart squeeze, wishing Santana never had to learn just how cruel people could be, never had to learn so young that people weren't as good as they sometimes seemed.
"It won't, but there's more good in the world than bad, I think," Brittany mused, although she was the last person to be able to say so, especially compared to Santana. "There could be a million bad people in the world, but even one good person makes me feel like the world isn't such a bad place." She mused, rocking from foot to foot with Santana idly. "Like, the happiness and the good I feel when I'm with you makes up for a whole world of bad people." Brittany said honestly.
It didn't surprise her when Santana nodded, but she honestly hadn't been sure which way she was going to lean, if she wanted to give the parade another go or if she'd declared herself to be at her limit for the day. Brittany nodded as she spoke, silently glowing at the fact that Santana had so easily said that she'd gotten scared, so honestly putting a name to her emotions, something she would've never done once long ago. Brittany held her eyes, seeking out any trace of nerves or fear in Santana's face, finding none. It struck her, as she traced her eyes over each of Santana's features, that Santana was letting her do it, Santana always let her do it. When they were young, Brittany would always try to catch her eyes, to look at her when she spoke- because then Brittany knew how she really felt, if Santana really meant what she said, but Santana had always slipped away, turned her head, spoken to Brittany over her shoulder when she assured her that it was better without feelings, that their sex meant nothing. Now though, Santana looked at her openly, letting Brittany see every single emotions that played across her face, her walls down, not wanting or needing to hide.
Smiling, Brittany pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth, long and slow and sweet, before pulling away, finding Santana's hands and lacing it with hers. "We'll go a little ways down," Brittany announced as the felt into step, approaching the hustle of the parade again, the colors and noise shifting into clarity, the music now detectable, the cheers forming into words rather than one blur of noise as the crowd edged closer.
Although she pressed Santana against her front before, this time, Brittany stepped in front of her, their hands still linked, close enough to the parade where Brittany could look up the avenue to where the protestors had been, wanting to see them before Santana did, although she saw nothing. Double checking, she turned her head and looked the opposite way, wanting to make sure there was no other group that she could see before she tugged Santana with her, down another block to put even more distance between them and where the protestors had been, finding a little pocket of space at the edge of the crowd and pulling Santana into her arms, grinning now that they were back in the action, surrounded by happy celebrators this time.
Santana smiled into the kiss, returning it with just as much gentle affection. When Brittany pulled away, she grinned, her face flushed with her enjoyment and stirring arousal, and she pulled her face back to kiss her hard and fast before letting Brittany take her hand and lead her away. She braced herself to see the protesters again, or for the shock of anxiety that might hit her when she was again among the noise and crowd of strangers, but as Brittany took pains to keep herself in front of Santana, Santana was amazed and newly proud to be with her, to be chosen by her. Brittany was so damn compassionate, and it still sometimes hit her anew that out of all the people she could choose to love and protect, Brittany, to Santana the greatest person ever, had chosen her.
As Brittany pulled her into her arms, having insured there were no protestors in sight, Santana let her body sink back into Brittany, covering Brittany's hands with her own. She let herself smile again as they blended into obscurity with the rest of the parade watchers, feeling both a part of it and anonymous in a way that felt safe. When one of the floats started tossing rainbow colored beads in their direction, Santana reached out a hand and caught a necklace in her fist. Whooping in triumph, she reached back to loop it over Brittany's neck.
Brittany felt like everywhere she looked, there was something new to take in, something new to see as the parade rolled on in front of them and people in varying degrees of rainbow outfits passed all around them. It was amazing the lengths that people had gone for their pride outfits, and Brittany found herself pointing out certain outfits or make up to Santana, knowing it was definitely not their style, but something Brittany was in awe of just the same. It was wild to see so many people out celebrating the same thing, flooding out of their apartments and onto the streets that usually held individual people going back and forth to their destinations and their own separate lives.
She kept her arms wrapped around Santana's waist, her body molded against Santana's, glancing down every few minutes to make sure she was okay. Her sunglasses were still on top of her head, and Brittany realized that as she kept glancing down, she kept looking for longer and longer, seeing the happiness and wonder and joy in Santana's eyes, watching her face each time someone in the parade did something funny. It was the most beautiful thing Brittany had ever seen, and she wished she could capture this moment of freedom and happiness and bottle it for Santana forever.
When Santana caught the necklace with an insanely accurate catch Brittany laughed, surprised at the cheer that came out of her, grinning and ducking her head as Santana looped it around her neck. "That was amazing," She giggled. She watched the parade float go by, followed by more along with dancers, music blaring out of the speakers. Automatically, Brittany started shifting back and forth from foot to foot, swaying them with the music that played. Ducking her head down to Santana's ear she whispered, "I'm glad you had this idea, Babe," kissing her cheek gently.
Santana is as caught up in the parade participants as Brittany is, her eyes wide with her interest and amusement. She at first simply follows Brittany's pointing finger and observations, but soon she too starts to point out people doing especially crazy dances or wearing especially wild outfits, starting to laugh often from pure enjoyment rather than mocking. She catches Brittany checking on her and smiles back at her, understanding her concern, but truthfully, she feels okay. Better than okay. She's thoroughly enjoying herself, far more than she might have thought possible.
She grinned as Brittany praised her catching of the necklace, kissing her fingertips and pressing it against the cheap colored beads as though in blessing. As Brittany swayed with the music, automatically moving Santana with her, Santana let her body go along with it, loosening up and feeling the reverberation of the bass in her chest. Her smile broadened at Brittany's whispered words and kiss, and she squeezed her hands, hugging her arms tighter around her waist.
"This has been really cool. I think most people out here are totally insane, but that's part of the fun."
Brittany beamed when Santana pressed her fingers to the rainbow plastic beads, a silly gesture, but one that meant so much, passed between the two of them. "I'm never taking this off," Brittany declared, and she meant it. Automatically, it was special and something Brittany treasured, purely because it was something Santana had given her.
As Brittany swayed them, left to right, she reveled in the feeling of Santana's body loose and relaxed against her, so different from how she usually carried herself when they were outside, rigid and small. Even when they hung out with Kurt and Rachel Santana's body was alert and pressed against Brittany's, as if one of them would ever try to peel them apart. Now though, she was loose and having fun, her excitement bright and childlike in a way that was so Santana, and it reminded Brittany of the night that they climbed the bleachers in Lima to look at the stars after their Christmas lights plan had failed.
Giggling at Santana's comment, she pressed another kiss to her cheek. "Insanely happy. I am," She said, knowing Santana was too, in that moment, however, fleeting, things were perfect. There was no panic in Santana's eyes or urgency pressing against Brittany's chest to help Santana or get her to breathe or pull her back into the present. They were calm and happy and Santana's eyes weren't darting around in case a man walked too close to them. Brittany was still aware of their surroundings, but it was at the back of her mind, barely even something she registered at that moment.
Another float rolled past them, adorned with several gay men wearing very little and dancing very suggestively. "Okay, you have to admit the gay guys have the best bodies," Brittany said, shaking her head with a grin. One of them had a microphone and in between singing to whatever pop song was coming out of the speakers, he yelled, "If you're with you're lover you better scream!" To which Brittany did, along with the entire crowd, holding Santana close to her body, her cheeks red and smiling from ear to ear. "And kiss them right now!" Brittany tilted her head back and laughed before bringing one of her hands up, turning Santana's head to the side and up slightly so she could lean down and kiss her.
Santana's smile widened as Brittany declared she was never taking off the necklace that she had given her, dimples coming into view. She could tell from Brittany's tone and expression she meant it, and that made her feel proud and happy, ridiculous as that might be. She had given Brittany something Brittany liked, and she reveled in that.
As the float of mostly naked gay men rolled by and Brittany commented on their bodies, Santana shook her head with a smirk and a laugh, giving a thumbs down. "No, I don't have to admit that, lesbian here, remember? Where are our hot gay girl floats? Come on women, step it up, show us some skin too!" she called, only loud enough for Brittany to hear. She didn't want to actually make any women who might be around her think she was catcalling them. Besides, she had already seen quite a few topless women earlier.
"Just kidding, babe. The only hot woman's body I need to see is yours," she murmured into Brittany's ear.
When Brittany screamed at the demand of the speaker, Santana hesitated only a moment before yelling along with her, dissolving into laughter after, her body loose and relaxed in her arms. And when Brittany kissed her, she returned it with enthusiasm, half turning to wrap an arm around her waist. Looking into her eyes, she smiled, less goofy and exhilarated, more earnest now.
"I love you." Brittany rolled her eyes, poking Santana's ribs. "You can still admire the view," Brittany giggled, laughing harder at Santana's call for gay girl floats, exhilarated at how free and happy Santana was, openly celebrating something that she usually tended to skirt away from in recent weeks, preferring more to fly under the radar than be an out-and-proud lesbian being that that was tied so closely to her attack. It made Brittany fill with warmth to see Santana so unbothered, so comfortable in her own skin, and Brittany could feel her love for her multiply.
"I love you too," Brittany responded easily, effortless, her entire body buzzing at the fact that Santana said that to her (like it did every time) but also that Santana had just said that outside and in public when they were in a crowd of people, albeit towards the back of that crowd, but a crowd, no less. A crowd that, three months ago, Brittany would've never even thought to bring Santana anywhere near because just nine weeks ago, she would've hated it, but just a few weeks after that, she'd brought up Pride, and, a few weeks after that, here they were, in the middle of it all.
"You're amazing," She said bluntly, abruptly, the words leaving her mouth before Brittany could stop them, not that she would've anyway. "I haven't even been here a whole year, but think about in the winter, or even like, March. You would've hated this back then. You would've been so scared, but now we're here and we're just doing it and you just told me you love me in the middle of the sidewalk." Brittany beamed as she babbled. She was always celebrating Santana's small victories, despite the fact that Santana tried to downplay them, but this one counted as a big victory, and no way was she letting Santana downplay that. "I'm proud of you." She said honestly. "I mean, I'm proud of you every single day, but this was a big thing. You should be proud of you."
Santana too feels like she is warm and buzzing all over, not from anxiety, but from exhilaration. She can't remember the last time she was out in a group of people she doesn't know without fear, without apprehension, but simply enjoying herself, staying present in the moment instead of haunted by the past. She bounces on her toes, swaying in rhythm with the music, wanting to dance, to shout and sing and make herself a part of it all. She is a part of it all, and yet she is still anonymous and safe among it. And she loves it.
Santana is startled by Brittany's sudden declaration, turning to look at her more seriously as Brittany continued to gush over her pride at Santana's accomplishments and improvements. Santana knew that this was a big deal, that this was new and different and she was getting through it with only one brief breakdown, but when she stopped and thought about it as Brittany described it, she realized with startled pleasure that what she said was true. Even a few months ago she would have been terrified, jumping out of her skin constantly and unable to see the fun of the event. Was it really possible she was getting better?
She smiled, small and shy at first, then bigger. Then she turned to Brittany and hugged her hard, burying her face in her chest at first, then lifting it to beam up at her.
"This is a big thing, isn't it?"
Brittany smiled back at her, Santana's shyness making her stomach flip over. It was so Santana - she'd walked around the school like she was better than everyone there, but in tender emotional moments when Brittany said something kind to her or pointed out how well Santana had done on a paper that she'd brushed off dismissively, Santana got so happy and shy and even a little awkward, unsure what to do with such blatant praise. It was something that, at first, made Brittany sad, so aware that praise and compliments were things Santana had never gotten. It was so rare to see Santana awkward or shy, her mask usually firmly in place, but when Brittany was so blunt with her love, Santana was always bashful. Even now, when Brittany had been praising her outright for years, Santana's shyness still flickered, and it made Brittany's heart thump with love for her.
It always started the same way, Santana's expression serious, truly considering what Brittany was saying, questioning her, applying it to Santana's own thoughts and seeing if, just maybe, Brittany was right, a hint of desperation, wanting Brittany to be right whenever she assured Santana she should be proud of herself or told her she was the nicest person Brittany had ever met or promised that she would never leave her. Santana had to think about it before she let herself believe it, but when she did, her smile always followed, adorable and honest and a smile that always reached her eyes.
Laughing as Santana buried her face in her chest momentarily, she brought her hand up to the back of Santana's head, leaning town to kiss the top of her head before Santana turned to look up at her, repeating her statement in the form of a question, her eyes so hopeful, so wanting, so proud. Brittany loved the moments when Santana accepted her own strength, when she basked in the praise she so deeply deserved.
"Yeah, Babe," Brittany was quick to validate her, to reassure her. "It is a big deal. It means a lot, that we did this, that you were okay and that you had so much fun," She continued, her arms around Santana. "You always say you don't know if you'll ever get better but getting better isn't anything big or one single moment," Brittany promised her, "It's this, and you're doing it." She smiled, unable to look at Santana's smile, big and free and childlike, without grinning back at her.
Content and secure in Brittany's arms, basking in her validation and pride, Santana continued to smile up at her. She suspects that she might look a little ridiculous right now, looking at her with such a sappy, cheesy grin, but she doesn't care. It feels good. She feels good, and she wants to hang onto that for as long as possible.
Eventually she turns back to face the crowd, watching people lip synching and shouting out key lyrics to the crowd. When "Born this way" by Lady Gaga plays, Santana does a little gasp and bounces on her heels, turning back to Brittany excitedly.
"Oh my gosh, remember when Mr. Shue had us do this in Glee? And all those shirts we had to wear? And you made me the one I wouldn't wear, and I wouldn't dance in it? But I never told you, I did wear it. I wore it and I sat way back in the auditorium and watched you, where no one saw. I wanted to be okay with being a lesbian, but I didn't want to admit it yet, even to you. That seems like a million years ago...wow."
She took a breath, this having come out in an excited burst of words, and then as a new thought struck her, spoke more slowly and carefully. "I think...Brittany, I kind of miss singing. And dancing. I think...maybe I want to go watch Kurt rehearse. I don't know if I want to join in or anything yet. Not with other people watching. But I want to watch him, I think. Even if it's at a bar."
Brittany returned Santana's smile back and just as large, extra-giddy at the fact that Santana was actually excepting her praise and feeling proud of herself. She only snapped out of her reverie when an older lesbian couple passed by and one of them gushed, "Well aren't you two the cutest pair in love that I've ever seen," in a faintly Southern accent, making Brittany laugh and blush, meeting Santana's eyes.
She kept her arms slung around Santana as Santana settled back against her, their attention returning to the parade. "Oh I have to add this to my playlist this week," Brittany said the moment she heard the opening notes, equally as happy as Santana about the song. It had been fun for Brittany to perform with the rest of the Glee club, and she loved dancing to anything Gaga, but it also reminded her of when Santana hurt her, and then, when she unintentionally hurt Santana back, the two of them ready at entirely different times to be together. She also remembered Santana agreeing to talk to a grownup with her, and that, somehow, stuck out more to Brittany than any of their issues.
Nodding when Santana turned back to her, she opened her mouth to confirm that she remembered before Santana kept talking, Brittany's mouth hanging open in partial disbelief. "You wore the shirt?" Brittany repeated, like Santana was speaking another language. To her, it was an impossibility. Even when she'd made the shirt, she'd prepared herself to be hurt because she knew Santana would never wear it, even though Santana's refusal still hurt more than she expected. It was like she was hoping for an impossibility, making the shirt even though she knew Santana wouldn't do it, just because for half a second, Brittany thought maybe she really would.
Now, though, hearing that Santana wore it, that she was there, that she watched them, stunned her, a warmth flooding through her veins. "You were there?" She asked again, as if Santana had been talking about a different auditorium.
Once again, Santana had proven her strength, had taken a step Brittany hadn't even expected her to take at the time or even known about, and Brittany was so overcome with love that she felt her eyes prickle, leaning down to capture Santana's lips with her own, cutting her off halfway through her "wow." For so long, Brittany thought Santana hadn't, only to learn that she had and, more than anything, Brittany knew she'd done it for her.
Brittany kissed her and kissed her until she couldn't breathe, pulling back just a few inches, her eyes focused on Santana, only Santana. "I thought when I made it for you that you'd never wear it for me, not then," Brittany confessed. "But you did. You did." She repeated it like she had to convince herself of it, laughing because it was such a happy surprise to her, as if Santana had just taken her memory of performing Born this Way and made it one hundred times better.
When Santana continued, approaching the topic of possibly going to see Kurt rehearse, she nodded, reaching up to brush stray locks of hair off Santana's face as she clarified that she didn't think she wanted to perform just yet. "We can just go, Babe, and see how it is," Brittany promised, still giddy from the revelation that Santana had worn her shirt all this time. "We can see how you feel and we can watch for however long you want to."
Santana grinned, her eyes sparkling, as the older couple praised them. She tightened her grip on Brittany, giving them a somewhat shy nod of acknowledgement, and then whispered in Brittany's ear. "That will be us one day, won't it? The new Golden Girls, with a lot more open lesbianism. Only we're not accepting any Blanches. I don't think I could take hearing a Southern accent every single damn day."
Santana blinked at Brittany's blatant astonishment at her confession, taken aback. She had known Brittany would probably be surprised and amused by her long ago secretive behavior, but she hadn't realized that Brittany would be so overwhelmed and amazed by it. It had been difficult for Santana to do; that sixteen year old girl had been terrified and hurting, ashamed and full of pride, and although it had hurt her to pretend to date and love Dave Karofsky, and to turn down Brittany's t-shirt, she had done it out of desperate self-preservation. She didn't think she could survive wearing it, even Brittany's misspelled version, even in front of just the Glee club. The admission of her sexuality would be too much back then for anyone but her and Brittany to know.
But she had felt compelled to put the shirt on, no matter how scared and apprehensive she was about it, not because she wanted to claim that identity for herself and be proud of it, but because Brittany wanted her to. Because Brittany was proud of it on her behalf, and Brittany had made the shirt for her in hopes of her doing so too. She couldn't wear it where people could see her, even Brittany, but she could wear it in private, and she could never turn down a chance of watching Brittany dance.
When Brittany cut her off with a deep kiss, Santana was thrown but gladly went with it, twining her hands into Brittany's hair as she turned in towards her to make it easier for them to continue. She was panting, breathless, her eyes aglow as Brittany finally pulled away to breathe, laughing and smiling all at once into her eyes, as though to Brittany, no one in the world existed but Santana.
"I did," she confirmed, still amazed at how much this seemed to mean to Brittany. "Yeah, I did. Sorry I didn't do it where you knew, but I couldn't then. It was still too hard. Sorry I didn't tell you sooner too. Shit, if I knew you would have reacted like this, I would have told you the same day!"
She laughed, leaning her cheek into Brittany's hand as she brushed away her face. Nuzzling it briefly, she took hold of her hand with her own.
"Okay. I'll tell them then. And you'll be with me, right?"
She still needs that confirmation, even now. Every new and scary thing feels more bearable with Brittany with her.
Turning back to the crowd, Santana is still energized, but she can't seem to focus on any of what they're doing. She's too aware of Brittany's body close against hers, Brittany's lips still causing her own to buzz with the lingering sensation of her kiss, and she is restless, unable to think of anything else. Turning back to Brittany, she met her eyes.
"This is really cool and I'm glad we came, but I kind of just want to be with you now. Is it okay if we go back home?"
Brittany shook her head at Santana's apology, dismissing it. She knew Santana couldn't have shown her back then, couldn't have worn the shirt or performed. She knew, regardless of how bad Santana wanted her to, but the fact that she wore the shirt at all was enough, it was so much more than enough that Brittany was still speechless. It was so Santana, taking a huge step like that in her own way, doing it for Brittany while still flying under the radar, managing to take that step without calling attention to herself. Brittany laughed again, shaking her head at the revelation that Santana really had put the shirt on, that fact alone seeming like an impossibility in itself.
"I know you couldn't tell me then," Brittany said easily, her voice free of any blame. "It matters a lot that you told me now," She added, her heart thrumming at the way Santana automatically leaned her cheek into her hand, like a child seeking out comfort. It was adorable and vulnerable and Brittany let her hand linger, letting Santana soak in the warmth from her hand for an extra moment before Santana turned back around to face the crowd. Brittany wrapped an arm around her the front of her shoulders, her right and coming around to rest on Santana's left shoulder, trying to focus on the parade but still radiating with happy energy that Santana had worn the shirt, unable to dislodge that fact from her mind.
"Of course I'll be with you," She murmured into Santana's ear, a validation that she didn't need to give, knowing Santana knew Brittany would be there, she was always there, and Brittany wouldn't even entertain the topic of letting Santana go alone, know she may have unsteady moments being surrounded by the sights and sounds and smells of a bar, even if would be an empty one. She wasn't convinced Santana could do it without some comforting, but she knew she could do it, that, she didn't doubt.
When Santana turned back to her Brittany grinned with a nod, catching how blatantly Santana expressed what she wanted and shamelessly owned up to the fact that she wanted alone time with Brittany. "Of course," Brittany repeated, ducking her head down to kiss her again, "We've been here a few hours already, and it's hot." She said, glancing around them. The parade was still going, but the crowd had thinned a little, and Brittany could tell it wasn't long before the parade wrapped and the partiers turned to more evening activities to carry on the festivities. "I just want to go home and shower and cuddle with you," Brittany said as they fell into step, her steps light and springy as she swung her hands between them. "This has been the best day," Brittany glowed, glancing to Santana as they headed back to the apartment.
Santana let out a soft exhalation of relief at Brittany's confirmation that she would go to Kurt's rehearsal with him, settling back into Brittany. She could feel the joy emanating off of Brittany and knows without Brittany's words that Brittany is still glowing with amazement at her admission of wearing the Lebanese shirt, so long before. She still isn't quite sure why Brittany is so touched and excited by this- that was long resolved ancient history, in her mind. Still, she can't say she's not enjoying Brittany's pleasure or how she expresses it.
As Brittany agreed she was ready to leave, giving Santana another kiss, Santana let her hand slide down into hers, smiling still as Brittany swung their joined fingers between them in a childlike manner. She gave Brittany's fingers a squeeze, her chest so full of bubbly enthusiasm and pride in herself for having lasted most of the parade without problems that she is almost skipping herself along with Brittany. Brittany isn't wrong about the heat; even in shorts and with her hair pulled back, Santana is sweating, several strands of her hair falling loose from her ponytail and sticking to her neck. The body heat of the crowd and being constantly in close contact with Brittany, combined with the sun's rays had probably not contributed to being cooler, but she wouldn't have had it any other way. A shower and cuddle session with Brittany sounds amazing to her.
"It really has," she agreed with Brittany in her assessment of their day. "And your idea on how to end it will make it just a few notches more amazing. I'm totally down."