"How do you feel?" Brittany asked, feeling Santana's trembles beneath her, reminded of the toll her body had taken in just that day alone. Slipping one of her hands out from under her, she gently brushed her fingertips over the knot that had formed on Santana's forehead, just at the edge of her hairline. Brittany was careful not to apply any pressure or hurt her, her eyes trained on Santana's face for any hint of the slightest pain.

"You got it good," She mused, "Do you know what you hit your head on?" Brittany supposed it was the corner of a desk or something along those lines, knowing Santana probably wasn't sure unless someone had told her.

Putting her head back down, she rested her ear on Santana's chest, over her heart, hearing the heavy thumping her own heart still hammering as she took deep breaths, trying to come down from the high that they'd both wound themselves up to. "I'm proud of you for today." She said softly. "I know the hospital was awful, but you were so good for the doctor, and you ate." Brittany pointed out, always careful to shine a light on Santana's accomplishments and make sure she knew that she was proud.

Santana feels Brittany's lips curve against the skin of her neck and smiles a little more, loving knowing that Brittany is happy, that she has made her feel good. It feels almost unreal to know she can still affect Brittany this way after all this time and all that has happened.

As Brittany lightly strokes the knot on her head, Santana held still, though it did feel tender and is bruising a purplish color. She takes a moment to think about it, taking the question seriously.

"I feel...tired," she said, exhaling. "Really tired. But really good too."

As Brittany lay her head on Santana's chest, Santana strokes her hair, twining strands slowly through her left hand. She listens to Brittany as her heart slowly calms back down, trying to accept her pride in her, but still has some self criticism.

"I was acting psycho. I don't even remember a lot of it and I don't think I want to. I was really scared, Brittany," she admitted softly, eyes downcast. "It felt like everything from before had never gone away. Like I was still there, and you never came. I felt crazy. "

Brittany watched Santana contemplate for a moment, thinking about her question. She appreciated the way Santana paused to think, not rushing to fill the silence but instead actually contemplating what her true answer was. She'd always done that, at least with her, and whenever she didn't, Brittany was quick to prompt her, always verifying that it was the truth and not just how Santana thought she should feel.

She knew, from both experience and Santana telling her, that Santana was not often given room to speak or think about her feelings. She was rarely listened to, and that made her answer quickly most of the time, even when her quick answers weren't always the true ones. Brittany had caught on fairly quickly, realizing it was Santana's default to just answer and speak as quickly as possible, never having anyone in her life who would sit there for an extended period of time and listen to her. Not until Brittany, at least.

"You were scared," Brittany agreed as Santana played with her hair gently, silently dismissing Santana's claim about acting psycho. "Of course you were. Anyone would be, San. You fainted, and then woke up in a place that you'd been in before for an awful reason," She reminded her gently, wanting Santana to know she had the space and right to feel afraid. Brittany couldn't even imagine how terrifying it had been for Santana and yet she bounced back so quickly, completing the tests for the doctor and being overall okay as long as Brittany was touching her in some way.

"I thought you did amazing," Brittany insisted, propping herself up on Santana's chest and leaning down to peck her lips again. "We can just hang out here the rest of the night and go to bed early," She promised, "Do you want to take a shower?"

Santana squeezes Brittany's waist a little tighter, giving a small shudder as her thoughts flit back briefly to the hospital. She rests her palm flat against Brittany's head, as though trying to absorb Brittany's thoughts into her own self, to feel better and more whole.

When Brittany gave her a kiss, she relaxed, smiling into it, and gave her a kiss back, nuzzling her cheek into Brittany's after. She considered Brittany's suggestion and question, again taking the time to truly consider what she wanted and what her body was telling her it needed. She was so used to ignoring her body and even overriding it as irrelevant in favor of giving in to her mind.

Her body is telling her now that it feels exhausted. She's had a long day of studying and attending class and working with classmates on no fuel, then fainted, gone through intense fear and panic, and endured the tests and stress of the hospital. Now her body is adjusting to the stress of eating more than she has allowed it to in quite some time and then the exertion of making out with Brittany, as amazing and totally worth it as it had been.

When she takes the time to really and without self anger listen to her body, it tells her she's drained- so much so that she isn't sure she can stand for the length of a shower. And yet the thought of one is undeniably attractive. After all the exertion at the hospital, Santana does feel the need to scrub off any remnants of sweat and tears and the lingering feel of "hospital" remaining with her.

"Can it be a bath?" She asked Brittany hesitantly. "Can you- will you help?" She flushes a little, but maintains eye contact.

Brittany kept her head against Santana's chest, content to let her soak up all of the comfort that she possibly could, lulled by the steadying rise and fall of Santana's chest. She wished she could hold Santana in that moment forever - for once she was calm, safe, relaxed underneath Brittany's body. The hard parts of the day had come and gone, and in its wake was just Brittany and Santana together, perhaps closer than they'd ever been.

It struck her then, how she'd once thought that she'd never feel these feelings again, had one tried to accept that she'd never hold Santana again, the way she'd tried to cope with that and push it out of her mind. "I missed you so much," Brittany said softly, because she had. It seemed the more time she spent with her, the more she realized how deep and painful missing Santana had been. She'd thrown herself into dance and barely given herself time to thing, but even being busy didn't help to dull the ache that somehow always crept back.

She knew right then wasn't the time to have the conversation about their time apart. She knew they needed to have it of course, to sit down and talk about why it happened and, most importantly, why Brittany was determined to make sure if never happened again. But not now, after they'd just been crammed in a hospital bed, after Santana had just eaten her first meal, after they'd technically shared one of their 'first' kisses since Brittany had come back to New York.

Santana's voice was noticeably more hesitant when she spoke, dipping with uncertainty as she spoke. "Sure," Brittany responded instantly, caught of guard the by request but not hesitating in the slightest. She sat up, instantly missing the warmth of Santana's body, pulling her by the hand to help her to sit up and guiding her into the bathroom, keeping their hands laced behind her. She didn't let go until she'd tugged the bathroom door shut with her free hand, leaning into the bathtub to tug the drain shut and turn on the faucet, holding her hand under it until it turned warm enough for them.

Santana smiled, the edges of it hesitant, shy, but touched and genuinely pleased when Brittany voiced she had missed her. She traced the curve of Brittany's cheek, continuing to slowly outline the features of her face as though memorizing her with her fingers.

"I missed you every second of every day," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I tried so hard not to, but I couldn't help it. I didn't know if you missed me that much too."

She let Brittany help her up and prepare the bath for her, stripping off her clothes and letting them fall to the floor in a pile. She looks down at herself, self conscious after eating and certain her stomach must be bigger, but takes a deep breath, tries to push past it, and lowers herself into the water. It is warm and soothing in a way she had needed, and she smiled a little, settling back.

"I haven't had a bath since- since," she realized aloud. "I didn't want one. It felt weird, or, I don't know, too much. But this is nice."

As always, Brittany helped Santana peel the layers off, running her hands over her body with uninhibited trust, taking the time to brush her finger tips over the still-flat plane of Santana's stomach when she saw her look down at herself for a moment longer than normal, knowing without words what kind of thoughts are going through her head and silently offering comfort in her touch, a comforting smile on her lips when her touch made Santana glance in her direction.

Brittany carefully helped Santana step into the bathtub, careful that she didn't slip, settling her back against the edge of the tub, dipping her hand in the water to make sure it was still very warm. while she usually would've taken a seat on the toilet lid while Santana showered, something about the fact that she was taking a bath made her want to be closer, coupled with the events of the day. Instead of backing up, she sat down right where she was, crossing her legs underneath her and taking a seat on the bathmat, her arms resting on the edge of the tub with her chin on her arms.

"You used to love them," Brittany said, more of an observation than anything else, an observation of just how much the assault had taken away from Santana, even little inconsequential things like taking a bath.

She couldn't even count how many nights the two of them had laid in the bath for hours together, talking about everything and not talking at all. It had been one of Brittany's favorite things to do when they were together, winding down after a long day of dance and classes, rinsing off and then falling into bed together. She felt the burn of anger deep in her chest, anger that even something like a bath had been taken away from her.

"How does it feel now," She asked, her head still resting on her arm, her one hand dipping and trailing patterns in the surface of the water. She herself was basking in the intimacy of the moment, the two of them so close together, in an apartment that was nearly theirs to share anyway, or, Brittany hoped, it would at least one day be.

Santana takes reassurance from Brittany's wordless touch and smile, knowing that she is telling her without having to say how she still finds her body beautiful and acceptable and enough, that she is still small. She isn't sure she totally feels the same, but she believes Brittany does, and that's close to being okay.

She smiles when Brittany sits so close, enjoying her proximity and recognizing the intimacy in the moment as Brittany did, almost in awe of it. There is nothing in between them just being together in the moment- no undercurrent of tension or resentment or fear, no need to give overt comfort. It isn't the desire and passion that Santana had felt earlier, but somehow it feels almost as though she is even closer to Brittany emotionally than she had been while in the heat of the moment. She feels open to her, seen by her and safe with her, but not raw.

She also feels more comfortable with herself, body and mind both, than would have seemed possible a few weeks ago, especially after all she went through today. She couldn't say she was totally happy with her body in the moment or that she would feel the same way tomorrow, nor with her emotions, but right now, other things were more prominent. Right now she was living in the moment with Brittany.

"I did," she acknowledged with a small, somewhat sad smile at Brittany's statement. "Used to drive the Shrill Set nuts," she remembered, referring to Rachel and Kurt. "I would lock them out and they would be pounding on the door yelling about bladder infections and how they pay for bathroom use too. It just was different later."

She caught Brittany's trailing hand in hers and squeezed. "It's good now. It's nice. Maybe not every day, but I like it right now."

Brittany laughed at the mental image of Santana locking Kurt and Rachel out of the bathroom, knowing how much it probably drove them crazy and also knowing how much Santana likely enjoyed that part of it. Her smile flickered when Santana pointed out it was different later and she nodded.

"Of course, I'm sure it was." She could hardly imagine how difficult it was for Santana to undress at all, let alone take showers or a bath, such vulnerable parts of seemingly mundane daily routines.

She let Santana catch her hand, water droplets dripping from their laced fingers, giving her a reassuring squeeze back. "Whenever you want," Brittany said, her arm on her cheek. "Only when it feels good."

That, in short, was essentially how Brittany had always lived, following what felt good to her and what she wanted. It had always come naturally to her, without her having to put much thought into it, but she knew the same couldn't be said for Santana. She also knew it wasn't her fault, that Santana had grown up expected to be so many things other than just herself - the smartest, the most popular, a million different things when Brittany knew all along that Santana herself was just as good without being head cheerleader, the best in Glee or the smartest in class. She'd always tried to gently coax her toward things that just felt good, Santana often surprising herself with how good it felt to do certain things, silly things, just because.

"Do you want me to wash your hair?" She asked sweetly, grinning at her from where she was resting her head against the edge of the bathtub. Another sweet, intimate part of their routine that Brittany had missed. They had vastly different hair routines, Santana's way more intricate, but Brittany had gotten so good at washing it, making sure to rake her hands through Santana's scalp and use enough conditioner on the ends and comb it all through.

Santana smiled too, remembering the horrified, urgent, and indignant expressions Rachel and Kurt could get. It had been a long time since she had actively tried to cause them to look at her like that, and she missed it. "It's been way, way too long since I messed with Smurf and Smee. They're due for some Snixx specials."

She nodded slightly at Brittany's affirmation, knowing that Santana meant it in a way other people sometimes didn't. She wasn't used to people encouraging her to do what felt right and good to her. She was used to being reigned in or redirected or outright ordered to do things that might not be bad for her (but sometimes were), but also weren't her first impulse or thought. A lot of people in Santana's life didn't even seem to think she knew how to choose to do something that was right or good, and sometimes she thought it was true.

Santana's head lifted slightly, and her face brightened when Brittany offered to wash her hair. She loved when she did. She was the only person who knew how to do even fix her hair other than her abuela; her mother had never quite gotten the hang of more than ponytails and braids, and Quinn had after some half hearted effort given it up as impossible when they were around fifteen. Brittany was gentle and patient and knew Santana's hair like she knew her own, and it always felt amazingly good for her to have her hands sifting through it even for simple care.

"Yes, please." She adjusted herself to give Brittany better access, closing her eyes to further enjoy, fully trusting.

Her heart thumped at Santana's adorable grin when Brittany offered to wash her hair. It was something that was so small and easy for Brittany to do but something that made Santana so happy. It struck a chord deep down in her chest, realizing how infrequently Santana had other people do nice things for her. She was often struck by how unfair the world had been to Santana Lopez.

Sitting up off the edge of the tub, Brittany beckoned for Santana to adjust her body, reaching over to pick up the shampoo and conditioner from the edge of the tub, setting them beside her on the bathmat. She flipped the shampoo bottle over, squeezing a generous amount into her hand before gently lathering it through Santana's hair at her scalp, careful not to bump the knot on her forehead. She took her time, taking care to scratch her nails gently across Santana's scalp and massage it, making sure none of the shampoo dripped down into her eyes.

She was glad that, even in the craziness of the day, she was able to give Santana some peace and comfort in such a tiny gesture. Of course, she wished she could do more and could erase all of the pain and anxiety Santana had felt that endlessly-long day, but she supposed washing Santana's hair and wrapping her up in a fluffy towel before bed was good enough. Brittany let Santana know she was done so she could tip her head back, cupping her hands to dump water over Santana's hair until it was rinsed clean. She repeated the very same step with the conditioner, massaging it into the ends of Santana's hair and letting it sit for a few minutes longer so her hair could soak up all the moisture.

"Do you want to have a stay-at-home-day tomorrow?" Brittany asked as she worked, kneeling over Santana. "I mean, I have a few classes in the afternoon, but I think you get a free pass to skip your classes and everything."

Eyes still closed as Brittany worked the conditioner into her hair, Santana stifled a groan of pure pleasure at the feeling of her fingers massaging at her scalp. Her skin tingled with the enjoyment of her pampering her, showing her such gentle attentions. Her body relaxed further in the water, unconsciously uncoiling tight muscles and leaning towards Brittany and into her working hands.

She almost doesn't register Brittany's question to her. When she does catch up with hearing and comprehending several moments later, she doesn't have to think about it. It's an obvious answer; there is now way in hell she feels mentally and emotionally solid enough to go back to class tomorrow. Even the idea of it makes her skin flush with embarrassment and mild anxiety to think of the attention that might be drawn to her, the possible questions.

"Yeah, I don't want to go to class tomorrow," she acknowledged. "I'll email my professors." She paused, wanting to know if she could stay with Brittany, but has to push past her flicker of insecurity to voice this desire as she makes herself open her eyes and look at the other woman. "Can I stay with you?"

Once her hair is finished, Santana stands reluctantly, draining the tub. She feels warm and less tense by far, though even more tired, and reaches for Brittany's hand to get her help stepping out of the tub and onto the bathmat. She stifles a yawn and shiver as the air hits her before she's fully wrapped in the towel Brittany holds.

Santana waited to respond, but Brittany didn't repeat her question, knowing that Santana had in fact heard her. She instead finished combing the conditioner through Santana's hair and began to rinse it out, nearly done rinsing by the time Santana responded.

"That sounds good," Brittany agreed, secretly relieved that Santana wanted to stay home. Brittany was all for Santana pushing herself out of her comfort zone, but after all she'd been through, it seemed like she needed a day or two to herself.

When Santana asked if she could stay, her gaze trained on Brittany, Brittany nodded her head. "Of course you can stay. I honestly didn't think you'd go back to the loft. I want you to stay," She said, wanting to make it clear to Santana that she wanted her there.

She smiled warmly, wanting Santana to have a safe space in her apartment and feel like it was hers too. It struck a chord in her that Santana wanted to stay, that she was comforted by being there, more so than she would be even in her own bed - even though Brittany knew Santana hadn't been sleeping in there for months, not until she got there.

Standing up, she shook the water off of her hands, reaching to grab a clean, fluffy towel and help Santana out of the tub, wrapping the towel around her body and tucking it in. "You look exhausted," Brittany observed, "Did that make you feel better?"

As she asked, she reached into the medicine cabinet to get her detangler out, taking her spot behind Santana again as she brushed the product through her hair. "I like taking care of you," Brittany mused as she pulled the brush from root to tip smoothly.

Santana smiled back, relieved that she is welcome, that Brittany has made this clear. She doesn't want to go back to the loft tonight or really, at all, as long as Brittany is willing to let her stay here. It feels different and safer here, and she feels more open, less anxious and physically tense.

Wrapped in the towel, Santana holds onto the sink to help support herself as Brittany continues to work on her hair, leaning more heavily into the porcelain surface as her eyes grow heavy. She does feel better and nods slightly in response to Brittany, suppressing another yawn. Her eyes open to meet Brittany's reflection as the girl tells her she enjoys caring for her, and she smiles softly. "I like you taking care of me. Thank you."

She was never used to it before Brittany, being taken care of, and never would have thought it could feel so nice. It felt like a physical expressing of love.

When Brittany has finished with her hair, she turns into her, facing her, and still in the towel, hugged her around the waist, laying her head beneath Brittany's chin. Still cuddled in, she murmured, "Bed now?"

Brittany found it endearing how obviously exhausted Santana was and how relaxed she looked. She knew sleep hadn't been easy for her and had watched how Santana seemed to grow increasingly agitated the more tired she got, fighting off sleep and getting progressively more upset until she exhausted herself in Brittany's arms. It was hard to watch, especially because Brittany knew she could only offer comfort when Santana was awake and was virtually powerless to help her in her sleep. Weeks earlier when they'd both been staying at the loft, Santana seemed to go through her day fearing the imminent exhaustion and night ahead, but now, she seemed relaxed, the tension draining out of her body when Brittany had pulled the bathtub plug.

"Of course," She grinned, wrapping her arms around Santana in return, her wet hair tickling Brittany's collarbone. "Come on," She patted Santana's butt over the towel, tangling their finger together as she led them out of the bathroom, flicking out the light. "Go change, I'll be in in a sec," She promised with a grin, letting Santana's hand go to clean up the plate and the dishes from her earlier cooking, filling a water glass as she went.

She knew Santana always like to go to bed with a glass of water, Brittany usually did too, but when they were together it always resulted in her stealing sips from Santana's class instead. Clicking the TV off, she made her way into the bedroom, holding up the water glass to show Santana she'd brought it for her.

"Do you need anything else?" She asked, pulling her shirt over her head, her bra following shortly after along with her leggings. Brittany pulled an oversized t-shirt over herself, pulling her hair out of the neck. She wanted to ask if Santana was hungry but assumed she wouldn't want to eat so soon before bed, carefully disguising her question to make sure Santana didn't feel faint or dizzy at the moment.

Santana actually felt okay to let Brittany leave the room to clean up in the kitchen for the period it would take for her to go in the bedroom and change. That alone feels like a big thing today after everything that has happened; she wouldn't have thought it possible that she could feel anywhere near okay, but she does. She actually feels kind of okay.

She pulled on one of Brittany's loose t-shirts, liking to have her scent surrounding her at all times, and her own boxer shorts. Sliding under the blanket, she snuggled in, nuzzling her head deep into the pillow and letting herself relax a little more into the mattress as she briefly closed her eyes. She shook her head, opening her eyes again as Brittany came in with the water and asked if she needed anything.

"Just you ."

Santana had intended the words to sound playful, even flirty, but she was either way out of practice or too tired to play anything but her real feelings, because they came out soft and sincere. She flushed a little, trying to cover, and said quickly, "So come on, get your ass over so we can get our cuddle on."

As she settled into Brittany, her body perfectly niching into hers as it always had, head on Brittany's shoulder, her thoughts began to drift back, reviewing the day, but it isn't triggering anxiety like she might have expected. It had been a long, horrific, and scary day, but somehow, it had ended with her feeling calm and safe in Brittany's arms.

"Today was a really bad day," she mused out loud. "I was really confused, and really scared. Really scared. But I'm still kind of okay somehow. And I did some things I didn't think I could ever do. How did I do that?"

Brittany pouted at how utterly adorable Santana looked snuggled in her bed, fresh out of the shower and tucked in among her blankets. She looked more at peace than Brittany had seen in years, possibly, and the thought made Brittany want to bottle the feeling and save it for when Santana needed it. Setting the water on the nigh table on Santana's side, Brittany ducked her head with a grin when Santana simply said that all she needed was her, blushing a little, her heart softening impossibly more, practically melting with love for Santana as she flicked out the light.

"That can be arranged, that's easy," She promised, slipping into bed beside her, opening her arm for Santana to tuck herself against her body, tugging the blankets back up around them with her free hand. Brittany wiggled deeper into the pillows, feeling herself relax that she had Santana safely in her arms.

She'd been focused on Santana the entire day, but it was only when she laid down did she feel how much the hospital had taken out of her emotionally too, the fear of getting that phone call pounding in her memory like a bad headache.

She was grateful Santana spoke when she did, pulling her out of her own mind. "Of course you did, because you're you," Brittany kissed the top of Santana's head, feeling a surge of pride recalling everything that Santana had done that day. "You're amazing," She added, a smile on her voice. "Today was really tough, I was so scared when they told me you were in the hospital," Brittany confessed.

It had been a similar feeling that she'd felt in Munich, like the ground had dropped out from under her feet and she'd been freefalling. "I thought that something happened - I don't even know what I thought. But this is the best possible end to the day," She added, giving Santana a gentle squeeze.

Santana smiled into Brittany's kiss against her head, tucking her arm more securely around Brittany's waist and pressing herself still more securely against Brittany. She let her eyes half close, still reflective, thought sleepy-sounding as she responded.

"You're amazing," she rejoined. "You always know what to say and do. It's because you're fluent in Santana...and a genius." She listened, her eyes opening more when Brittany confessed her own feelings. She hadn't thought about how scary it must have been for Brittany to get the call from Rachel that Santana was back in the hospital, and she squeezed her back.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't mean for anything like this to happen. I just get too deep sometimes, and then I can't swim back up. You help tow me back from being under the water when I start sinking."

She smiles, her eyes starting to shut again as her jaw shivers with another stifled yawn. "You're right, this is the best way to end the day."