When they get back to Santana's apartment, Brittany realizes, "Oh, I don't have sweats with me...that's okay, I'm sure I can fall asleep in my jeans. I'm so tired."

"I can just lend you shorts, B. Are you comfortable in that tank top you're wearing?"

Brittany nods, slightly distracted by the idea of wearing Santana's clothes.

Oh my God, Brittany is going to be wearing my clothes, Santana thinks to herself. She pulls Brittany into her room and goes to her dresser, pulling out a pair of old cheerleading shorts and handing them to Brittany, who's looking around and taking in Santana's room for the first time. She notices two guitars, tons of books, tons of CDs, more movies, a laptop, and a picture of Santana and some guys whom Brittany assumes are her brothers. Taking the shorts from Santana, she smiles. "Thank you. I'll go change in the bathroom." Brittany heads towards the door.

"Hey Britt, are you sure..." Santana hesitates and ducks her head in embarrassment. "Are you sure it's okay if I don't wear the compression shorts?"

"You'd better not. I want you comfy and nap-ready when I get back."

When Brittany returns from the bathroom, Santana is already in her tank top and basketball shorts, pulling the covers back on her bed. She turns around when she hears Brittany come in, noticing that those shorts are even smaller on Brittany than they are on her. Her legs really do go on for miles. She gulps, then smiles at Brittany who is smiling at her. Always so beautiful.

Brittany thinks Santana is beautiful too. She can't help but quickly glance at Santana's shorts, wondering if she can tell that she isn't wearing the compression shorts. She definitely can. Basketball shorts hide nothing, and there is the subtle and first real reminder of what Santana had told her. Other than curiosity and the faintest stirring of arousal, Brittany doesn't feel much about the fact that Santana looks different from her.

They crawl into bed, and Brittany lays down with half her body on top of Santana, who lowers the blanket to cover them. Brittany hovers above her for a second before leaning down to capture the Latina's lips. The kiss progresses quickly, and soon, they're full-on making out, tongues battling for dominance as Santana's hands press into the small of Brittany's back.

Santana both feels and hears Brittany moan into her mouth and can feel their breasts pushing together. So amazing. Wait. Too amazing. Oh God, she thinks. Not now. Please not now. She can feel herself quickly getting hard, so she pushes Brittany gently backwards and slides out from under her and a few inches away. "I'm really sorry, Brittany," Santana says, desperately hoping that Brittany is okay with what just happened. She looks down and picks at an invisible thread on the sheet.

"Sorry for what? That we kissed? I'm the one who kissed you. I still want to nap...I just missed kissing you," Brittany replies, clearly confused.

Santana's face feels like it's burning. "No, no. I liked the kissing. Maybe too much."

"Oh, you mean you started to get hard? So what? I think I'd be more concerned if you didn't."

Santana looks at her incredulously. Why isn't she weirded out at all? Santana can't believe how calm Brittany is with this—not tolerating it, not managing to ignore it, just...okay with it.

"Santana, I don't know how to explain to you how much it doesn't matter to me that you have a penis. Listen. I have a vagina. Right?"

She gulps. She is acutely aware of this fact, yes. She nods.

"And how do you feel about my vagina?"

Santana's eyes get really wide. She wants that to be a rhetorical question, but it's clearly not, because Brittany is looking at her expectantly. "Uh. Well...I mean, I'm looking forward to hopefully meeting it someday?" She ducks her head again as Brittany chuckles.

"I feel the same exact way. I feel the same way about what you've got under your shorts, as you feel about what I've got under mine. It's not a big deal. Okay?"

Touched by Brittany's unconditional acceptance and suddenly hit with an overwhelming need to cuddle, Santana nods, lays back down, and opens her arms. Brittany immediately nuzzles into Santana's warmth, ready to be held, ready to finally sleep and rest for a little bit. They pull each other as close as possible. While Brittany drifts off, Santana stays awake for a bit, thinking of what Brittany had said, thinking about music, but mostly listening to and feeling Brittany breathe. Periodically, she runs her fingers through Brittany's hair and lightly kisses her forehead, and eventually, she falls asleep too.


When her alarm goes off—too soon, it feels like—she groans, knowing that they should go to the library soon so that Brittany can hopefully go to bed at a decent time tonight. This desire to take care of someone is a bit foreign to her. Admittedly, she'd grown up a rather spoiled child. She has four older brothers who would do anything for her, as well as a mother and father who take care of her when she needs it. Even Quinn kind of takes care of her. But Santana wants to do things for Brittany, wants to help and care for her.

"Britt-Britt, baby, wake up," she says quietly, placing light kisses over her eyes and cheeks. "Wake up, baby."

While Brittany has no desire to get up, how can she not smile when being woken up like that? Plus, Santana called her baby, which makes her heart tingle. "Mmmmm."

Santana smiles. Success. "Can I make you French toast for dinner?"

Brittany cracks open one eye. When dinner is breakfast food, the answer is always yes. "What did I do to deserve you?"

Santana laughs and leans in to kiss Brittany. "I feel the same way."

After cuddling for another minute, they both get up, and Brittany goes to the bathroom to change back into her clothes. She comes back in, hugging her arms around herself.

"Are you cold, bab—Britt?"

Brittany almost smiles. Is "baby" reserved only for when she's asleep? "Yeah, I am, baby." She emphasizes the "baby," and Santana blushes.

Brittany must have heard her call her baby and apparently doesn't mind. Noted. "Want a hoodie?"

She nods, so Santana hands her her favorite hoodie, excited once again by the prospect of her wearing it. Brittany notices that it's one of her cheerleading hoodies and that the back of it says "LOPEZ." Not only does she get to wear Santana's last name, but her hoodie also smells just like her, and Brittany loves it.

They head downstairs and toward the kitchen, where Santana starts getting out all the ingredients that she needs to make French toast. "Do you cook?" she asks Brittany.

"Um...like three things. Honestly, I ate a lot of cereal after the age of like 10. But I make awesome chicken salad, salmon, and macaroni and cheese."

Santana stops moving before looking slyly back at Brittany. "Mac and cheese? From a box or from scratch?" Santana asks in a tone that implies this is of the utmost importance.

"Well, the noodles come from a box, but I make the rest."

Santana is now staring very intently at her. "I love macaroni and cheese. Like, love a lot. Mercedes makes it pretty okay, but…maybe I could try yours sometime?"

Brittany's eyes light up. She feels like there's not a lot she can do for Santana—Santana helps her study, Santana is making her food, Santana makes sure she sleeps—but here's her opportunity. She can definitely make some awesome macaroni and cheese for her. "Can I use your kitchen to do it?" Santana nods enthusiastically. "It's a date, then." Santana kisses her, clearly excited for macaroni and cheese; the fact that Brittany comes with it is a huge bonus. Brittany laughs lightly.

After they finish what Brittany deems to be the greatest French toast of all time, they clean up and head to the library, where Santana makes Brittany tell her everything she needs to do, which, honestly, is way less than Santana thought it would be. However, she knows it's harder for Brittany than it is for her, so she just smiles at her and tries to convey some optimism.

Studying with Santana is so much better than studying alone. Things make sense when Santana explains them to her, and when she has a question, Santana doesn't get frustrated. Once again, it takes them less time to get through more than Brittany had hoped to get done.

They pack up and get back into the car so that Santana can drop Brittany off at her dorm. She almost asks Brittany to come back and sleep with her. Now that she's slept with Brittany in her arms, she's not sure how she'll go back to sleeping alone again. But it's a school night, and she doesn't want to be too clingy, so she doesn't.

"I can't thank you enough for everything the past few days. I don't know what I would've done if it weren't for you. Bringing me lunch and making me sleep and helping me study...you're like a sexy guardian angel or something." Santana laughs and shakes her head. "But please, promise me that you'll always put your schoolwork first and that you won't stay up late with me if you need sleep and that you won't help me if you have stuff to do. Promise me. Because if I have to worry that you're helping me and ignoring yourself, it'll make it hard for me to ask for help."

"I promise, Britt. As long as you promise to let me help before things get this bad. Okay?"

Brittany nods. "Oh, let me give you this back." She goes to take off the hoodie, but Santana stops her.

"No, you keep it. In case you get cold." She likes the idea of Brittany having something of hers when she's not there. Brittany likes it too.

They say their good nights, and Brittany heads up to her room. She showers and gets ready for bed. Before climbing under the blankets, she puts Santana's hoodie back on and cuddles into it. It smells just like her, but it's not quite as good as having the real her. Grabbing her phone, she snaps a picture of herself with the hood up, cuddled into her pillow, and sends it to Santana, knowing that it will make her smile.

To Santana: Not quite as good as being with you, but the next best thing until next time.

It does make her smile. A lot. She looks at it for several minutes, letting her heart swell before she sends a message back.

From Santana: Soon. But until then, I like you in my clothes. Sweet dreams, Britt-Britt.

Santana sets the picture as her phone background and looks at it a few more times before falling asleep.


Other than the very first day of classes, this is the only day that Brittany actually feels prepared, and she knows why. Santana. Today is the first day where she's felt like maybe, just maybe, this is all possible. Maybe she can keep her grades up, stay in school, become a dancer, and most importantly, be with Santana. Her thoughts are kind of monopolized by the girl right now, and it takes everything in her to focus on the teacher instead of her anticipation of meeting Santana for lunch.

Class always takes a lot out of her. She's always felt like teachers were expecting her to do two opposite things by making her write to take notes while making her listen.

When she gets to the dining hall, she sees Santana leaning against the building wearing skinny jeans, a loose gray v-neck shirt, and a scarf. Brittany honestly thinks she looks like a model out of a magazine. How she got lucky enough to even know Santana, let alone be the center of her affections, she will never know. Karma, she thinks, because I saved that bird that one time in high school.

Santana reaches her hand out to take Brittany's and pull her in tight, wrapping her arms around her lower back. "Good afternoon, beautiful." Brittany giggles in response and kisses Santana's cheek. They go inside, get food, and sit down. "How was class, B?"

"I turned in my homework. That was exciting. I don't know, it's just so hard. I sit there and try to listen and take notes, but how does anybody do both at the same time? Then I get distracted, and a few minutes later, I've made a list of things to get from the store and completely lost track of the lesson." She takes a big bite of her Lucky Charms.

Santana takes a few seconds to ponder Brittany's words. She's never had a problem taking notes and listening at the same time. In fact, don't you have to listen to take notes? She wonders if Brittany has a learning disability, but she doesn't know how to ask. Even if Brittany has one, she probably doesn't know, because clearly nobody has ever cared enough to get her tested. The thought breaks Santana's heart. "I'm sorry, babe. Is there anything I can do?" She would do anything she could.

"I think you're already doing a lot for me. By the way, you look hot."

Santana ducks her head. "Thanks. You too, B. Always."

After lunch, as they're heading out, Santana's phone beeps, and she pulls it out of her pocket. "Gross. Storm warnings for the rest of the day into the night."

"I hope I brought an umbrella to school with me. I can't remember."

"Do you need to go somewhere after classes?"

"Nope, just the LGBTA meeting. Are you going?"

"If you're going to be there, definitely. Can I pick you up, so you don't have to walk in the rain? I don't mind driving. Parking is free."

Brittany likes the idea of arriving with Santana. She wants people to know that they're...well, whatever they are...and more specifically, that Santana is off-limits. "Of course, thank you."

"Fair warning, I'll probably have Quinn, Mercedes, and Sam with me."

Brittany laughs. "I like all of them. They're nice. Plus, I feel bad that I haven't met Sam for gym time this week. I've just been so busy."

Santana nods, even though, in her opinion, she doesn't really need to go to the gym. I mean, have you seen that body? "I gotta run, Britt. Class, and then I promised Sam and Mercedes I'd take them on some errands. I'll see you tonight." She leans in and kisses Brittany softly before heading in the opposite direction.

After her afternoon class, Brittany walks back to her dorm. It starts raining just as she enters the building. Good timing, she thinks. Since it's raining, she decides to do her homework in her room instead of the library. She briefly considers calling her parents; she hasn't heard from them since they dropped her off. Finally, she decides against calling and instead sends her mom a text.

To Mom: Hope you guys are doing okay at home. I'm doing pretty well. Making new friends.

Part of her wants her mom to call her, but she knows her mom won't care, so she tries to let go of that delusion. After a few minutes of checking her phone every few seconds, she can feel the rejection prickling in her mind. Instead of letting it get the better of her, she texts the one person she knows will text her back whenever possible.

To Santana: Just wanted to say I miss you. Class was okay. Hope your errands are going okay.

She lays the phone on her stomach and barely waits a minute before it vibrates. The feeling against her stomach brings comfort, quickly chasing away the cold feeling left by her mother's lack of response.

From Santana: I wish you were with us. They're holding hands and kissing, and I miss you. Any more homework? Want to work on it tonight or wait until the weekend? Are we still on for ducks? Clearly I miss you.

This is what being wanted feels like.

To Santana: I wish I was there too. Yes, more homework. No, not tonight. I need a break. And always yes for ducks. Are we going out after the meeting tonight?

After sending the message, she has a moment of panic. She was presumptuous; Santana could already have plans. Why should she assume that those plans include her?

To Santana: Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed we're hanging out after the meeting. You probably already have plans or something.

She hopes Santana won't be angry or frustrated with her. When her reply comes in a few minutes later, she feels silly; she should have known Santana wouldn't be frustrated over something like that. She's trying to learn, trying to trust that Santana isn't him, trying to remember that Santana doesn't get mad over silly things.

From Santana: Do you want to go out? I don't have plans that don't involve you, as long as you want to be involved in my plans.

From Santana: What I meant to say is I don't have any plans. Do you want to get coffee afterwards? Mercedes and Sam said they're in. That's the more normal way to phrase all of that. :)

Brittany is struck with an overwhelming urge to hug Santana right now.

To Santana: I'd love to. Go have fun with them, text me when you're on your way back.

From Santana: If you insist. But I still wish you were here.

Getting off her bed, Brittany notices that the rain seems to be holding off and intends to go for a short walk. As soon as she gets halfway to the door, though, Rachel comes bustling in. "Brittany! While I know you don't have the training or talent I have, due to limited options, you will have to do. Can you please listen to these four songs and tell me what you think?" Brittany sighs and sits back down. It's not like she has anything better to do.


Santana hates rain, especially when it's the thing standing between her and Brittany. She's not going to make it back in time to get her before the LGBTA meeting. Maybe they can just skip it and stay in and watch a movie. She's starting to get lost in a daydream when her phone goes off. Hoping it's Brittany, she looks at the screen and deflates slightly.

From Q: Hey bitch. Are you guys going to make it back in time?

To Q: If we do, it will be only just. And then we have to pick up you and Brittany.

From Q: Can Brittany and I just meet you guys there?

To Q: I'm not letting her walk! It's raining!

From Q: Gee, thanks. But not what I'm talking about, genius. I can go get Brittany and meet you guys there. My car is fixed, and I need to run to the store anyways. I can just grab her on the way back.

Santana frowns, because she wants to be the one to pick up Brittany. After a beat, she shakes her head at herself; she's being childish.

To Q: That'll work. Just text her first so she knows. Or I can, if you want.

From Q: I am capable of texting her. You're getting soft, Lopez.

She smiles, because it's a little bit true, and it's only okay that Quinn says it because it's Quinn, though she has a sneaking suspicion that it would be okay no matter what because, well, Brittany.