The adjustment back into their routine in New York had been slightly rocky; Santana missed the Pierces and the safety the small, familiar environment of their home and town had given her, and for the first couple of days back before her classes restarted, she had felt shaky and unsettled. She had followed Brittany around more closely than she had in Lima, wanting to know where she was and what she was doing and feeling reassured that she would be within reach or earshot if Santana called out. It hadn't helped that she had a therapy session scheduled for the day before school started, and although Brittany had gone with her again, holding her on her lap and again taking over the talking when Santana's words and writing on the dry erase board failed her, Santana had still struggled to tell Kate what had happened in the grocery store. She had ended up sobbing again, needing a break and instruction through self grounding before they could continue, and she had left the session again utterly drained.

Kate had encouraged her to use music and writing to try to work through everything she was feeling, and left her with homework to write at least two journal entries before her session the following week, and to begin a list of songs that Santana could somehow relate to, that she felt described her feelings or events in her life. Santana had not actually agreed to do this, but a few days later, she was still turning this over in her mind, considering what- if she did this- she would choose.

What she had spent her time doing instead was signing up for her classes for the next semester. She had taken on a slightly fuller load than usual, because her advisor had pointed out to her that although she was pursuing a business degree, she had enough elective credits with literature and English classes that she could pursue a minor in English if she took on just a few more. Santana had pondered this and decided to try. If it ended up being too much, she could always drop a class or two. And maybe it was lame, but she was kind of proud of herself for the effort.

There were a few more things she felt a level of somewhat conflicted pride towards lately. Santana was pretty sure she had gained a little weight, although she was afraid to weigh herself at the university gym or nurse's office to check. At least, her clothes seemed not quite as baggy on her as they had been, and to her own eyes, she looked bigger. Sometimes, she felt ashamed and frightened by it, convinced she was getting huge and looked disgusting. Other times, she secretly felt just a little bit proud. She hadn't gained enough to start having her period again yet, but she thought maybe she was getting close. Not that she was thrilled about that aspect.

And the second thing she was conflicted about had to do with writing too. She had thought about it, and she was going to enter a submission for the spring edition of the school's literary journal. There were a few possible topics that had crossed her mind, but one kept returning, over and over- the one she was frightened to actually touch, let alone submit with her name across the headline. Santana was considering writing about the night of her rape.

She didn't know why she would even consider this, but once she did, the idea wouldn't seem to leave her mind. It was in no way one that she could imagine benefitting her- it would be painful to have to relieve the details in writing, to throw her messy feelings and the depth of her pain out for anyone and everyone to see and know. Why would she do that? How could that possibly be a good idea, or something she could maintain enough composure and skill to write about coherently enough to be published? And even if she could, how could she put her name alongside it, so everyone knew exactly who this had happened to- that this had happened to her?

But the idea wouldn't die. And as Santana walked with Brittany to her dance studio for Brittany's day of classes, the day after her own first day of spring semester classes, she found herself bringing it up abruptly.

"I've been thinking about writing about what happened for the literary journal at school. You know. What…happened. But it's a really bad idea, and I don't want to. But I've still been thinking about it."

She glanced at Brittany with some anxiety, sharply attuned to the other girl's response.

Although Brittany had rightfully been nervous about Santana adjusting when they were headed to Lima for the holidays, she quickly realized she had been wrong and it was actually the opposite - Santana adjusted easily in Lima, blossoming under the love the Pierces poured on her over the holidays, effortlessly slipping into life in Brittany's childhood home, calmer than she usually was, subdued by the quietness of the small town and all the comforts of staying with Brittany's family. Back in the city, Brittany noticed a shift in Santana's demeanor, a renewed need to be within touching distance of her as much as possible, wanting to hear what Brittany was doing if she was taking too long if she stepped into another room.

"I'm just looking for my sweatpants, San," She'd call, or respond with a simple "Yeah, San," when she heard Santana call "Brittany?" from the next room, just to make sure the was there. She knew that if she didn't, Santana would appear in the doorway a moment later.

Therapy, as Brittany had predicted, had been Hell after what had happened in Lima, knowing they'd have to go over it with Kate- which they did. It ended the same way the first one had, with Santana upset, exhausted and weepy as she laid her head on Brittany's shoulder, Brittany taking over much of the talking and actual explaining about what happened while she rubbed Santana back in slow, long strokes. For the second time, she was amazed at just how much Santana was willing to share and how far she was willing to go when she was sitting in Brittany's lap or wrapped in her arms, as if that comfort alone gave her the strength to talk about her deepest fears.

Outside of therapy, Brittany tried to establish as much of a routine for them as she could, sinking them into domestic life. She'd sat at the table with Santana and looked at her potential courses for the next semester, excitedly encouraging her when Santana brought up the fact that her advisor had told her she could get a minor. It seemed like a step in the right direction, and something Santana would actually enjoy. Brittany had wondered, fleetingly, if Santana would rebuke the idea of more classes because it meant more time away from Brittany, but she was happy to see that Santana wanted to at least try it, fully confident that she could do it.

Her first day of classes had gone well, making a point to stick to their morning routine and take the morning slow, giving them enough time between waking up and walking Santana to class that it didn't feel too rushed. They met at their spot, like usual, and from what it sounded like, Santana's classes had more or less gone well. Brittany hadn't had to teach that night, which she was grateful for, spending the night with Santana instead, knowing having all new teachers and classmates around her had been a lot for her, even if she did great that day.

The following day, the two of them were on their way to Brittany's classes, which Santana nearly always came to, if she didn't have class herself, their hands linked between them as they went. They had been in a comfortable silence when Santana spoke, fast and abrupt before falling silent again. It took Brittany's brain a moment to catch up to what she was saying, to what she meant, but she knew by Santana's voice that Santana wanted her opinion on it, that what Brittany was going to say mattered a lot. Reeling a little from the confession, Brittany started off, thinking it better to speak her thoughts out loud than be silent for too long and freak Santana out.

"Uh- okay." She started, still swinging their hands between them. "That's a big deal." Brittany said first, squeezing their hands, "I think you could do that, it may be help to write about it, easier than talking, y'know?" She encouraged, glancing over to Santana. "But I don't think you're convinced yet." She observed softly. Santana half looked like she wanted Brittany to tell her she shouldn't do it rather than encourage her. "A lot of people would see that, and once it's done, you can't take it back," Brittany pointed out. "I just don't want you do hand it in and then things change and you wish you never did that." She said softly, rubbing the back of Santana's hand with her thumb.

"Maybe you can write about first, and see how writing about it feels, and then let a few people read it like Kate or Kurt or Rachel or me," She suggested, "Just to see how that feels and see if you feel good and feel ready for like, a lot of people to read it. And then if you do, you can submit, and if you don't, maybe you can wait a little longer or try writing something else as a first step, y'know?" She asked, her eyes sliding back toward Santana to gauge her thoughts.

Santana released a somewhat relieved breath, nodding in response to Brittany's reasoning. "Yeah, I sort of thought that. That I don't know how it would be. I mean, it's crazy," she reasoned, trying to talk herself through her thoughts as they walked. "Why would I tell this to like everyone when I don't even want to talk about it or think about it? Why would I want everyone to look at me and it's like, written across my face what happened? And maybe they'll pity me, or start acting different, or think I'm stupid or a slut or just- looking for attention, or making it up," she kept reasoning to herself.

"But hardly anyone knows who I am anyway," she continued thinking aloud, squeezing Brittany's hand as they walked. "Just my professors and people in my class, most people don't know who I am. So maybe it wouldn't be super different or bad. But I don't want them to look at me like that. But maybe they wouldn't even read it? I mean, only total nerds read the literary journal, most people probably wouldn't bother. Only like, the literary people. Probably even most professors don't. So maybe it would be okay."

She exhaled, squeezing Brittany's hand again, still thinking out loud, her heart beating faster with her still quickened words.

"But…but I want to try to keep pushing myself, you know? I really am so tired of being so….so trapped by this shit. I have my whole damn life around it, and I try not to think about it or talk about it but I live around it, I fucking breathe around it, and maybe if i just throw it out there and say fuck you, to it, maybe it will stop, maybe I can breathe and just, like, throw it away. Maybe I can stomp on it. I don't know. It's confusing….but I'm just tired of being scared and…ashamed," Santana said softly, her eyes dropping to the ground. "So I guess I'll do that. Try to write it and let you read it. And then I'll see."

Brittany let Santana ramble on, speaking her thoughts out loud, wavering back and forth multiple times in her explanations. Brittany nodded and hummed in agreement where appropriate several times, feeling Santana squeeze her hand harder now that they were talking about a sensitive topic. She kept her face impassive, but she was nervous for her. Immediately, news stories and headlines of people being raped jumped out at her. Could Santana's story spark that much attention? She assumed it wouldn't, because it had happened a while ago - she couldn't say a long time ago, but she couldn't be sure. It still made her skin prickle to think about Santana sharing her story so publicly like that.

"I think…that would change if you published something," Brittany said hesitantly.

What Santana was saying was true, but Brittany didn't think it would stay that way for long, especially on a college campus. She knew Santana flew under the radar at school, but she knew if even just a few people read what she published, it wouldn't take very long for people to figure out who she was, professors included. She said as much, gently, not wanting to discourage Santana.

"I think people may not know who you are, but I think they will if you publish something like that." She said, her thumb still rubbing against her hand. "I think it could go totally unnoticed, but it also could blow up if someone sees it and tells their friends, and they tell their friends and then your professors hear what all the students are talking about." She said, knowing it could very easily be nothing or be something huge.

"I don't think publishing it right now puts you as in control of it as you want to be," Brittany suggested gently. "I think something like that is too permanent - like you can't delete it, y'know? But I think you definitely could publish it one day," She encouraged, nodded when Santana confessed to wanting to keep pushing herself, surprised and proud at her burst of courage. "I think that would be good, for you to choose who reads it first and then… maybe you can even publish it online somewhere, like in a support group or blog about that. Because if it's online, they don't know you, and it's easy to delete if it gets to be too much. But if you like communicating with people and answering their questions and talking to them online, maybe then you'll feel ready to publish it at school." She said.

Squeezing Santana's hand, she pointed out gently, "I think you're pushing yourself too far too fast." It wasn't the first time Brittany had said that to Santana, and she'd said it in multiple different situations. Santana had a habit of thinking she was moving too slowly in life, in all aspects, and Brittany was forever trying to slow her down. "I don't think publishing it is going to make you feel less ashamed if it's not done on your timing," She said. "I think if we try all these other things and then you decide you want to publish it, that's great San. But I don't want you to throw it out there thinking it will make you feel less trapped and then it doesn't."

Santana released a breath, relieved when Brittany validated her feelings and view while gently pointing out the possible downside of such bold transparency. Brittany was right, it could change how she was seen and looked at on campus. It could mean that she would be treated differently and approached with people wanting to talk to her about it. It could even mean some people might harass her.

She acknowledged Brittany with a slow nod, squeezing her hand gratefully. It did feel like she just wanted to fix things, fast, like ripping off a bandaid, and maybe that was the wrong way to go. Maybe it was too much though. Maybe it was silky to think she was ready for that when she still wasn't showering alone.

"You're right," she mumbled, sounding a little disappointed- not at Brittany, but at herself. "I guess I could try a forum maybe. And delete it if people are assholes. The school thing is too much."

As they approached the studio, Santana paused outside it, facing her. "I just want to get over it. That's all. And do things. And make you proud."

Brittany let Santana process what she was saying, knowing Santana often jumped ahead a few steps without really meaning to, a sign of both her impatience but also that she felt pressured about something.

"The school thing isn't too much, but I think you should start with something else before you make that decision," Brittany corrected gently, hearing the disappointment in Santana's tone and knowing it wasn't directed at her in particular, just the realization that Santana wasn't ready for all of her classmates and professors to know about her most intimate, darkest situation.

When Santana paused at the door, Brittany stopped too, letting her come around to face her. Santana words made her pout, squeezing the hand that she was still holding. "I'm proud of you every single day," Brittany said instantly, not even having to think about it for a moment. "Nothing you will ever do could possibly make me any more proud than I am right now and also like, every time I look at you." She promised, wanting Santana to understand that Brittany being proud of her was an unconditional thing.

"And I know you want to get it over with, you are getting it over with," She said, reaching up with her free hand to brush a strand of Santana's hair off her forehead from where the breeze had blown it. "Every time we go to therapy, or talk about it like this, or when you write about it, that's all getting it over with," Brittany pointed out, knowing this wasn't necessary a rip-the-bandaid-off, scenario. "One day, it'll just be over," She promised, squeezing Santana's hand. She knew it would never go away completely, but she knew, and hoped, that a day would come where Santana could function normally and all the trauma regarding what had happened would be far behind them.

Pulling open the door to the dance studio, Brittany ushered her into the warmth with a content sigh. She had the preteens today, which could be great or terrible depending on what kind of mood they were in, but it was a coed class, which Brittany always liked more because it meant she could do more with the choreography. She slipped her shoes off before stepping into the studio, shutting the door when Santana came in with her, knowing they had a few minutes before the swell of after school students came in.

"Do you have work to do?" She asked, pulling off her hoodie to reveal a leotard and sweats underneath.

Santana's lips curved up in a small smile, grateful and pleased with Brittany's pride in her. She hates above all else to ever feel like she might be disappointing Brittany or hurting her, so hearing that Brittany is proud of her, even if she can't always fathom why, is reassuring. She squeezed her hand again, hoping that Brittany was right. That one day, she wouldn't have to try to be over it- she just would be.

As she followed Brittany into the studio, keeping her own jacket on, Santana not very subtly looked Brittany up and down in her leotard, enjoying the way it showcased her torso. Glancing up without guilt when Brittany addressed her, she shrugged.

"Just a little reading. Stuff is pretty light the first week or two."

Brittany smiled, nodding at Santana's explanation. She knew Santana willingly came to all of her classes with her and that the alternative was Santana saying home alone, which she would never have preferred.

"Good, that means I get you all to myself when I get home," Brittany grinned, even though she had Santana all to herself every other day too, regardless of if she had homework to complete. "Maybe you can write a little if you don't have homework," She suggested easily.

"There's guys in this class," Brittany said, glancing out the observation window as a few students began to trickle in and head to the dressing room. She didn't think it would bother Santana, but she always let her know when classes had guys in them compared to when they were all girls just to give her a heads up before they walked in.

In no time, the room was filled with students, and Brittany led them through stretching, across the floor and then paired them off in partners, guiding them through a few simple movements. It was easy enough, and she could switch back and forth between the man and woman's positions effortlessly for the most part. She wanted to teach them how to do weight changing movements, lifts and dips, essentially, but she needed another body so she could show them where they had to put their hands on each other. She knew it was borderline inappropriate to ask one of the students to help her, and she paused for a moment, hands on her waist, chest rising and falling from the past 30 minutes of class.

Twisting her lips to the side, she contemplated skipping it for a moment before turning over her shoulder and calling out "Santana? Can you come here?"

Santana smiled back at Brittany, enjoying her flirtacious comment, and let her eyes linger over her again. "I can definitely give you my full attention."

She nodded in response to her suggestion of writing. She had been considering getting started on making a playlist during the class; it seemed the less painful option compared to journaling or writing about her rape. As Brittany warned her there were guys in the class, she shrugged, looking them over quickly as she saw one or two come in, and lowered her voice slightly.

"It's fine. They're like, Kurt type guys, they take dance. What are they going to do, curtsy my way? Ooh, that is totally his new nickname now. Kurt-sy."

Of course, she knows that sometimes, depending on what kind of state she's in, it doesn't matter what "kind" of guys she's around, because even Kurt is too threatening to want to be touched by. But she can handle being in a dance class of teenagers with Brittany right there. Especially with them being in leotards or something similar, it would hardly make them look threatening.

She sat in the back of the room where she normally did, taking out one of her assignments and beginning to read. When Brittany called to her, she jumped slightly, not having expected her to be speaking to her until she was finished with the class. Confused, she checked to make sure she hadn't just imagined Brittany addressing her, and seeing that Brittany was definitely looking at her, waiting for her response, she stood uncertainly and came to her.

"Yeah? What's wrong? Do I need to sit somewhere else?"

Brittany smiled at how confused Santana looked at Brittany calling out to her, beckoning towards her with her hand to affirm that she wanted her next to her. She shook her head with a grin at how uncertain Santana looked as she came forward, the students parting to give her a wide breadth.

"No, no, you were perfect back there. Do you want to help me demonstrate something?" She asked, almost letting Babe slip out of her mouth, but catching herself at the very last second. The last thing she needed was for her high school class to catch on, sure that they'd never let her hear the end of it.

She gave Santana a moment to answer, glancing between her and the class with a grin. "It'll be easy," Brittany promised, knowing Santana trusted her enough that she didn't even have to say that - Brittany would never put Santana in a position where she felt uncomfortable in front of other people or in a position where she knew Santana wasn't capable of doing something.

When Santana agreed, she grinned, almost applauding, but knowing the class would join in and deciding she could save Santana that level of embarrassment, instead requesting, "Can you take your coat off?" Before holding out her hand for Santana to take.

Santana came forward, still confused, drawing close to Brittany but not touching. When Brittany asked her to help demonstrate, she hesitated, glancing at the class with apprehension. It has been well over six months since she danced even casually, longer by far since she's danced with any kind of formality, although she knows Brittany wouldn't push her to do anything she can't. If Brittany needs a partner, she's sure she will take the lead and just require Santana to be able to follow.

Brittany wouldn't embarrass or shame her in front of these strangers. Santana knows that. She might not have full confidence in herself, but she does trust Brittany to cover any awkwardness she may show from being so out of practice with her own expertise and smoothness.

"Okay," she said after a pause. "Sure." What the hell, she's challenging herself today, right?

Slipping out of her coat and walking to set it by her book and laptop, Santana walked back to Brittany, sliding her hand into hers. She tried to avoid watching her reflection in the mirrors, instead looking to Brittany's face alone.

Brittany beamed when Santana shed her jacket, coming up close to her and slipping her hand into hers. "Okay, so," She said, loud enough for the class to follow her. "In this situation, I'm the guy, or lead, or whatever, and Santana is following, usually the girl or the shorter person, but no gender norms in this class." Brittany grinned, earning a laugh from her students. Without moving her lips she asked in a whisper, "Are you okay with this?" Privately checking in with Santana without her students overhearing.

"I need Santana up here because I'd like to show you more advanced partner work, basically weight changes and stuff, and I needed someone to help me show where our hands go so you guys don't drop each other on the floor." Brittany instructed, lifting Santana's other hand to her shoulder and setting her hand on Santana's waist. "So let's say we're dancing like this," Brittany said, framing her arms. "The hand that you guys are holding," She wiggled she and Santana's joined hands, "Are the ones you're going to need to move. The most important thing you need to worry about though, leaders, is this hand," She picked up her hand from where it was on Santana's waist. "This hand supports their weight."

"Face front for me," She instructed, turning Santana so her back was to the class, showing them where their hand should land, pushing Santana's hair to one side as she did so. "This hand, ideally, should slide around and end up here," She placed her hand in the lower middle of Santana's back, "Like, bottom of the ribcage. that way, they have something to lean on but can arch over your hand. Too low," She let her hand fall to Santana's lower back, "And they have nothing to support their back and it feels like you're going to drop them or they're going to end up hurting their back. Too high" She moved her hand higher, "And it feels like you can't dip them at all." Brittany explained, turning Santana back to face her with a grin. "Makes sense?" She asked the class, her eyes on Santana, silently asking her the same thing, if she was okay.

Santana swallowed, nodding in response to Brittany questioning she was okay. And she was, if she kept her focus on Brittany instead of the students or her reflection.

As Brittany instructed the class, moving Santana where she wanted her as she did so and frequently shifting the hand not holding hers to demonstrate where the students should and should not support their partner, Santana tried not to smile. She quietly glowed with pride in Brittany's clear and obvious ease in giving instruction, at how she could teach without talking down to anyone or being boring or obnoxious about it. Brittany had a gift, and Santana always loved watching her show just how smart she was.

As Brittany checked in with her again that she was okay, Santana smiled at her, giving her a light squeeze of the hand. Because she was. She really was, to her own surprise, getting more comfortable the more she adjusted to standing with Brittany.

Brittany grinned, glancing over the class to make sure everyone was following along and no one was about to drop their partner. "Good, guys." She said with an approving nod. She retook up her position with Santana, their hands joined, her other hand on Santana's waist. "Now," She instructed, but her eyes were trained on Santana. "If you're me, when you dip the other person, you can use you other hand to support their body too, like this," Brittany slid her other hand down to rest on Santana's waist. "It makes it easy for you, but also may feel better for your partner, so figure that one out amongst yourselves." Brittany said, giving them the option.

"And if you're Santana," She smiled at her again with a quick glance, "Your weight is going to fall on my hand and on your supporting leg- the one closest to me. The other one can slide out, it makes for a better line." She nodded, before straightening up again. "Honestly, those are all the basics, now you just have to practice testing your partner's weight on you. When you go to dip them, the Santana's need to take an extra step so they're perpendicular to your body, like this," She turned Santana by the hips, "So they fall into your hand and the audience can see the line." Brittany squeezed Santana's hip once before she let go.

"You ready to demonstrate?" She stepped back in front of Santana with one eyebrow raised. "Take four steps toward me on my count, then turn and dip, okay? My hand will be right there." Brittany nodded before straightening her spine, calling out to the class. "Santana is a leftie so we're both stepping off left," She explained, "Everyone else please step right when you practice." Her eyes were locked on Santana's, silently checking her over and making sure she was okay before she nodded, counting softly, "5, 6, 7, 8…"

Brittany stepped backward, taking Santana with her, four quick steps before she landed, pushing Santana's hand out of her own to turn her, her hand braced in the middle of Santana's back. To Brittany's delight, Santana let herself lean, farther back than Brittany expected her too, not shy in the movement at all.

Santana feels herself falling into Brittany's steady blue gaze, her breath catching. It's easy to forget the others in the room even as she instructed them, just by looking into her eyes. As Santana held her by the waist, her heart beat faster not with anxiety now but enjoyment of the touch.

It had been forever since they danced together. Until now Santana hadn't known she missed it.

As they showed the class, doing the movements along with them, Santana felt herself relax further, lead easily by Brittany into the twirl. She bent back against her hand, glad to realize she still maintained flexibility, and came up smiling.

This was actually fun. This was something she could get used to for sure.

Brittany grinned at the fact that Santana, usually so tense and brittle outside the comfort of their home, was soft and languid in Brittany's arms, obeying her instruction and arching her body easily, pushing her weight into Brittany's hand and knowing she'd catch her there. She turned her head to meet Santana's eyes in the dip, a grin on her face, surprised to see Santana's own eyes were happy and twinkling and free.

Straightening her up, Brittany kept her hand on her back, shifting her eyes to the class to make sure they were doing it correctly. She kept Santana there for a few more minutes to answer their questions, using her body to demonstrate where their hands should be in different situations and how to recover if they fumbled, Santana playing her part as Brittany's partner. She let her go to the back of the room before the class ended, not before making her bow and letting the students clap for her.

The end of class came quickly, with Brittany rattling off a few more different partner steps they could do and then guiding them in a cool down stretch and answering any last minute questions they had before dismissing the class. She waited until the room had cleared out before beckoning to Santana with her hand, her grin stretched across her face.

"That was awesome," She smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist, feeling very proud of Santana and elated that she'd helped out in her class. "Thanks for being my assistant," She giggled.

Santana let Brittany continue to use her as her partner, continually surprised at just how much she was enjoying it. Even with the ongoing attention of a group of people, including boys taller and bigger than she was, she still felt safe and comfortable. She only became a little embarrassed when Brittany made her bow as her students clapped for her, shooting her a playful glare but nevertheless complying.

As she resumed her usual place at the back of the room, she couldn't concentrate on reading. She kept replaying the brief movement with Brittany in her mind, imagining it carrying out longer into a series of steps to become a real dance. She had watched Brittany dance nearly daily, and yet she hadn't once thought of joining in. Would she ever have without Brittany's little nudge?

As the room cleared out and Brittany motioned her over, Santana leaned into her arm, smiling back at her. "It was. I sort of miss doing that with you. I didn't know that."

"I didn't know if you'd like it either," Brittany admitted, rubbing Santana's side lovingly. She was being honest, having partially expected Santana to not want to get up and demonstrate with her but thrilled that she ended up agreeing and wanting to. "Looks like you still got it," Brittany grinned, knowing Santana had danced or done anything even remotely close to what they'd been doing at Cheerios in such a long time, teasing her a little. Brittany was the dancer, but Santana was always way better than she ever gave herself credit for.

Her eyes flicking to the clock, Brittany grinned, pushing a few buttons on the stereo until the music began to play again. "Ready for round two?" She asked, threading her hand through Santana's. "The next class doesn't come for like…twenty minutes," Brittany said, meaning they had the room to themselves. Brittany's smile was gentle, welcoming, lovesick and dopey as she drew Santana to the middle of the floor, sliding an arm around her back again.

"Santana Lopez," She asked, her eyes sparkling, her voice overly formal for it being just the two of them, "May I have this dance?" Brittany stepped away from Santana then, keeping their hands joined, bending her body low in a polite bow, as if she were asking Santana to dance at a ball they weren't two girls alone in a dance studio.

Santana enjoyed Brittany's affectionate hand rubbing her side as she continued to embrace her, wrapping her own arm around her in return. She secretly loves and is relieved that even though she knows she's gained some weight, Brittany is still touching her just as much, maybe even more. She's glad Brittany clearly still likes her body- not that Santana herself had liked it, exactly, at its thinnest. But it was still reassuring that Brittany continued to touch her as if she noticed no change.

She herself hadn't been sure she still remembered anything. Years of long, hard daily practice had not entirely gone away though, and muscle memory had kicked in as soon as Brittany took her in her arms. Everything seemed to work that way when it came to Brittany.

As Brittany pulled her into the middle of the room, Santana gave an incredulous laugh, but her eyes glittered with excitement, and her stomach flipped at Brittany's smile. Her dimples came into view with the fullness of her smile as she gave the best curtsy she could manage without letting go of Brittany's hands.

"Brittany Pierce, you may join me in dance."

She grinned at Santana's equally formal, equally goofy answer, sliding her hand back around her, one of their hands joined together as they fell into an easy step, Santana's body against hers. It was lazy and unstructured, and even though Brittany was leading, she didn't lead much at all, letting them sway in loopy patterns around the room, just following each other, their feet shuffling. She was intentionally on the left foot for Santana, switching her own dominant foot for their little dance.

"Do you feel like Cinderella?" Brittany wondered, even though this was the furthest possible thing from being at a fancy event, she still always felt a little like a princess when she danced and wanted Santana to feel it too. She felt the warmth from Santana's body pressing against her own as they swayed, their ribs fitting together perfectly as they moved around, seemingly lost to the world around them, not thinking about Santana's school or therapy or the apartment or their friends, just wrapped up in each other.

Taking a particularly large step, Brittany dipped Santana again, her hand strong and secure on her, this time leaning her body down and following her, a grin on her mouth. "You're getting pretty good at that," She giggled, pressing a gentle kiss to her mouth before uprighting her, lifting their joined hands above Santana's head and pushing on her hip to twirl her around, bringing her back into her arms after.

Santana noticed and glowed inwardly as Brittany deliberately let Santana's dominant foot and hand be the guide of their dance, knowing it was to make her more comfortable. She moved with Brittany easily, lightly rubbing her thumb over the knuckles of Brittany's hand. She feels as she always does when in Brittany's arms- like she is light and weightless, safe and loved. The movements are uncomplicated and unhurried, and Santana didn't take her eyes off Brittany's, drinking in and savoring every detail of the moments.

She laughed as Brittany asked if she felt like Cinderella. She was wearing baggy jeans and a plaid pullover; she hardly looked glamorous. But truthfully, she did. Something about the moment felt magic.

"Maybe I do," she admitted. "The cooler, more badass version."

When Brittany dips her, Santana gives a little gasp and then laughs again, a little breathless. She is still grinning when Brittany kisses her and smiles into it, outright beaming as Brittany pulls her back up and twirls her away and back into her arms.

Okay, maybe she didn't actually look or sound or feel so badass or cool. But maybe that was overrated.

She rolled her eyes at Santana's suggestion that she was a more badass version, laughing at how Santana always tried to make it seem like she wasn't "too girly" or too emotional even though Brittany knew Santana cried over like, half the Disney movies they watched together, princess movies included. "Okay, badass Cinderella," She giggled, humoring Santana's version of Cinderella.

When Santana twirled back into her arms, Brittany abandoned their dance form, instead just wrapping both her arms around Santana and holding her there, swaying back and forth from foot to foot now, not really moving at all. The music played from one gentle song to another, and Brittany let it, just reveling in the feeling of Santana's body against hers, soaking up the time they had before the next class came in.

"You should take some of my older classes," Brittany suggested, twirling the ends of Santana's hair, knowing maybe she shouldn't be suggesting that if Santana could possibly see it as a way to burn more calories. She made a mental promise, though, that if Santana wanted to take her classes, she had to eat beforehand, not vocalizing that but committing it to memory. "It could be fun, we could dance together more. I could give you private lessons." Brittany smirked, the sexual innuendo of what she was saying not lost on her.

Santana let her body lean into Brittany's, warm, relaxed, and content against her. She wrapped her arms around her neck, swaying with her, and rested her forehead against Brittany's, closing her eyes.

"Mm," she murmured at Brittany's suggestion, noncommittal, but turning it over in her mind. She is feeling uncomfortable at the idea of dancing in a group with others regularly, without Brittany, in dance gear instead of regular clothes. She doesn't like to look at herself in the mirror still sometimes, and that's hard to avoid in dance.

And yet. She misses it. She misses the joy of moving her body to music, expressing herself without words. She misses dance, and singing too. This is the first day she's understood this.

"Could we start with private and work to group?" She offered, opening her eyes. "Since I'm so out of practice. I may need the special attention."

Not really. At least when it came to dancing. But she still found it difficult to verbalize her more vulnerable thoughts at times, and this was far easier to say than her true concerns.