Fic: Empire State of Mind - Chapter 11: Head. Ache.
Title: Empire State of Mind - Chapter 11: Head. Ache.
Author: agentb81
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5500
Disclaimer: Glee is copyrighted and belongs to the creators and Fox. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Use of other personalities is not a reflection of their real lives and is completely fictional. Title taken from Jay-Z and Alicia Keys’ Empire State of Mind, this fiction does not use any other material from the song.
Summary: AU Two very different young women find themselves in the big city of New York about to embark on the biggest career moves of their lives.
Spoilers: None.
A/N: This chapter is more of a part B to chapter 10 than a stand alone.
Previous Chapters: Prologue / Chapter 1: Sweat and Tears / Chapter 2: Hustle and Bustle / Chapter 3: Will and Hope / Chapter 4: Tiptoe / Chapter 5: Entwined / Chapter 6: New Beginning / Chapter 7: Two Become One / Chapter 8: Unholy Trinity / Chapter 9: Stripped / Chapter 10: Las Madres
Santana froze in the doorway, just as she crossed the threshold into the restaurant, the swinging door hitting her hard in the back. Her teeth clenched at the contact while simultaneously all colour drained from the chef's face, Rachel Berry's words ringing in her ears, 'It was Brittany Pierce's show."
She stood in the doorway, the heavy wood halting against her back. The words bouncing around her head like a pinball. Brittany. She felt physically sick. She ran to the deserted bathroom and into a cubicle before emptying the contents of her stomach into the bowl. Clinging to the porcelain like there was no tomorrow. Her tears left warm, wet tracks down her face as she heaved and sobbed, struggling to breath. 'Blood everywhere', she heard the words again and let out another cry. A warm hand pressed against her back and gently rubbed up and down. She flinched slightly at the contact, instantly aware of her intruder.
"Hey." Quinn said soothingly, attempting to calm the brunette. Santana struggled to her feet, using the toilet as leverage, grimacing at the severe lack of regard for hygiene. Cleanliness was one of Santana's 'things'. Being a chef, she had to ensure everything around her was clean all of the time, and being sat on the floor of a toilet cubicle with her bare hands gripping the bowl added to her nausea. Rushing over to the sink, she scrubbed at her hands furiously, while tears continued to stream down her face. Shutting off the tap, she stood abruptly. Her spine was as straight as a ramrod and her eyes bore uncomfortably into her own reflection. Santana barely recognised the woman staring back.
"I need to go." she said, turning on her heel and rushing through the door. Quinn rolled her eyes and tutted, and charged right after her. The headstrong chef was on a mission and when Santana had her mind set to something, very seldom did it stray. Stopping abruptly, Quinn barrelled into the back of the Latina who turned, a scowl firmly planted across her features. "Shit Quinn, watch the hell where you're going."
"Sorry." the blonde muttered under her breath. "You don't know where she is, if she's even hurt." she suggested calmly and placed a comforting hand on Santana's arm. The chef looked suspiciously at the hand on her arm, an eyebrow raised in question. Ignoring her, Quinn continued, "Rachel has a tendency to blow things way out of proportion and I dare say her 'source'" Quinn paused, using air quotes, "is less than reliable . Just calm down and think about this rationally." The brunette took a deep breath. The restaurateur was right, being hot headed and spontaneous now would not do anyone any good.
"My cell, I need to check my cell phone."
"Good start." Quinn concurred and let out a small sigh of relief, her heartbeat attempting to return to normal. She could not deal with an overly emotional Santana right now. The chef continued out of the bathroom and made a beeline for the staff room. Frantically searching her bag for her phone, images of Brittany flooded her mind. Brittany sitting on a bar stool in the restaurant, her happy bright blue eyes radiating such warmth and compassion, it was the first time they met. The first time Santana had ever laid eyes on the beautiful creature that she would later fall in love with. The woman who she would learn was the best thing to have ever happened to her, and the woman who she could not be without. Santana swiped at the hot tears pooling in her eyes, clouding her vision. A frustrated growl left her lips as she dug further into her bag. Finally grasping the sought after item, she yanked it free of its confines. Staring at the screen she saw she had 7 missed calls. Fumbling to get to her call log she froze when she saw Brittany's name appear six times. The other was her mother. However there was no voicemail message, no text message. Santana's heart plummeted to the depths of her stomach. She gasped as she felt a hand on her back once again.
"Will you quit doing that Quinn? Seriously." she snapped before she rubbed at her temple where a headache was forming. "She called me, like six times." Santana sighed. "She needed me, or needs me and I'm not there." her voice was beginning to strain. "God dammit." she balled her fist and punched at the locker beside hers. There was a pregnant pause, the air was heavy, Santana's breathing was staggered. Her teeth were clenched, the air hissed as she breathed in and out through them. Her eyes were scrunched closed and wrinkles formed around her eyes.
"Oh Kurt is not going to be happy about that dent." Quinn said timidly, holding her breath. She thought maybe a little light relief would ease some of the tension in the room. She knew Santana wasn't a bad person although she often came across at work as tough and unrelenting, but she knew the Latina had a big heart and since finding love with Brittany, her razor sharp edges were slowly beginning to blunt. Santana sighed and let out a small half hearted chuckle. Despite her anxiety, she could hear the squeal emanating from Kurt's lips. The blonde's words helped ease some of the anger that embroiled her.
"I have missed calls from Britt, but no message." she regaled. "What if, what if . . ." Santana frowned, struggling to form her words.
"Hey," Quinn said, guiding the chef over to the free plastic chair in the corner, "call her. Or do you want me to do it?" the blonde offered. "If Brittany doesn't have her cell phone, someone else will." The thoughts of Brittany not being on the other end of her own phone were ones Santana could not help but think. If some other person answered her phone, then her worst thoughts would be confirmed. If Brittany answered her phone, she could breath again easily.
"I . . ." Santana composed herself by taking another deep breath, she nodded, "I'll do it." She starred at her shaking hands, turning it over, the device now facing her. Taking one last glance at the screen, a picture of Brittany having just woken up beaming back up at her, she called her girlfriend. Santana waited for the connection to be made, which seemed to take forever, while a number of scenarios ran through her head. The line clicked, automatically sending her to voicemail. She looked nervously at Quinn who was crouched beside her, a steadying hand placed on her thigh. "Voicemail." she said shakily.
Quinn waited patiently, watching the emotions pass through Santana's eyes as the Latina listened to Brittany's voice real off instructions for leaving a message. Santana smiled ever so briefly, Quinn deduced that the dancer had said something amusing or adorable in her recorded message.
"B, Brittany baby, please, please call me when you get this." Santana said, holding her nerves together. "I really need to know you're ok. I love you." she added quietly. She ended the call with a sigh, rattling her brain as to what to do next. She could not just sit there, or go back to her duties, Santana had to do something, she had to find out where Brittany was and if she was hurt. "What if -"
"No." Quinn abruptly interrupted the quivering voice of the Latina. "No what if's San. Come on." the blonde said, standing from her perched position beside the chef. She took a hold of Santana's wrist and dragged her up with her.
"What are you doing?" Santana asked with a puzzled expression.
"We," began the restaurateur, "are going to find your girl." Quinn smiled warmly. "First stop, the theatre."
xx
The pounding was relentless, thrum, thrum, thrum. The beat bouncing around, drowning out any other thought or sound. Then a wave of calm and the thumping began to subside, it became fainter and fainter, slowly disappearing into the ether.
xx
The banging on the door was unyielding, desperation stood on one side, trying to get the occupant's attention. There was shouting, first one voice, when that didn't work another voice called out.
"Can I help you?" The door creaked open, Santana gasped with relief, the lack of lights inside the building was a telltale sign the theatre had been abandoned for the night.
"Yeah, err . . ." the Latina began, her thoughts preventing her from speaking. She took a dry gulp of air before choking on her attempted words.
"The accident, this evening? Can you tell us if Brittany Pierce is ok?" Quinn spoke up. Santana nodded ferociously beside her, willing the guy before them to tell her what she wanted to hear. Though the niggling feeling in the back of her mind could not help but fear the worst.
"I'm sorry, I'm the janitor, I just got here." he began in his thick New York accent. "Sorry ladies, I know nothin'." he said before closing the door in their faces.
"Well that was rude." Quinn said, turning to face the busy street. She looked to Santana, the dejected look on the Latina's face saddened her. "Hey," she said, rubbing her hand up and down the chef's arm. "We'll find her."
xx
While it was dark, the street lights offered visibility. Too much light. While usually the lights of New York City were a part of it's charm, right now, complete darkness would be very welcome. No pain, no worries, just a blanket of darkness. A small blinking light indicated a message, the light was hypnotising and the darkness came again.
xx
"Wait." Quinn stated as she searched her body for her ringing cell phone. The two women had stepped out of the cab and stood on the sidewalk outside of the nearest Emergency Room, having almost run out of options. Quinn took the item from her pocket, frowning at the display 'Berry' she mouthed with an eyeroll before answering. "Rachel, what do you want?" she asked, her voice tired.
"Hello to you too Quinn." came the curt reply.
"What is it Rachel? We're kinda busy." Quinn demanded with little patience.
"I have new information that may help you in your investigation." Rachel offered breezily.
"Really? Have you been talking to your friend from the second grade again?" the blonde sniped with a confident smirk.
"No." the waitress replied. "I'll have you know Noah Puckerman came into the restaurant looking for Santana."
"Who is Noah Puckerman?" Quinn asked, her tone short. Santana's eyes widened, her mouth opened as if to say something, though said nothing. She decided to wait until Quinn had further information.
"Who is Noah Puckerman? What sort of a question is that?" Rachel asked before her voice sounded slightly distant. "Noah shush, I'm talking."
"Berry!" The blonde warned.
"Right, sorry, well Noah Puckerman is an esteemed colleague of Brittany's in the show and he just asked me out on a date." Rachel explained excitedly. Quinn's mouth formed an 'O' shape at the revelation, before she had time to respond, Santana swiped the phone from her friend's hand.
"Give me that." she said before holding the phone to her ear. "Berry, where is she?"
"Oh hi Santana . . ." her voice trailed off and could hear a shuffling in the background and very whiny Rachel Berry.
"Santana? It's Puck. Noah."
"Where is she Puck?" Santana demanded.
"Relax, she's ok." Puck said, attempting to put the Latina's nerves at ease. Santana let out a shaky breath, those were the words she had longed to hear. She waited for the actor to elaborate. "Britt wasn't hurt, she wasn't even at the theatre." he said, causing a frown to form on the Latina's face.
"Why, what happened?" new panic washed over her, it was unlike Brittany to miss a performance.
"She developed a migraine, I put her in a cab and sent her home. She called me when she got back and said she was heading to bed. I assumed she would have called you too." Puck stated.
"She did." Santana offered quietly. "But she didn't leave a message."
"Don't be too hard on her, a migraine can really knock you about." Puck said, sympathising with both women. Santana sighed, she knew the effects of a migraine, she had seen her mother suffer several in the past.
"How is the err, you know what is she? Who is she? It was a she right?" Santana babbled unnaturally. She turned to Quinn, "We need to get another cab." she said.
"The understudy, she's called April, she's ok, few stitches, nothing too serious." Puck explained.
Quinn motioned for Santana to get into the cab she had hailed, she stood waiting with the door open. Santana offered a small smile of gratitude. She had to get to Brittany, the blonde was more than likely laying alone in a dark room in pain. The brunette hurried across the sidewalk and jumped into the back of the cab behind Quinn, reeling off Brittany's address.
"Sorry Puck, I have to go, thanks for, you know." she said, slightly distracted.
"Sure no worries. Take care of Brittany."
"I will." she smiled "Bye Puck."
"Goodbye Santana." he concluded.
Santana threw her head back and looked at the grubby ceiling of the New York City cab. Thousands of people had been in the back of the same cab, each on a different journey, each with different worries, agendas, celebrations. So many emotions had passed through the back doors and across the upholstery of the taxi. The Latina closed her eyes and took her bottom lip between her teeth, her own headache brewing across the back of her eyes. She wondered if it was due to the stress she had been under that evening, the worry of not knowing what had happened to Brittany or was it sympathy pains for the beautiful blonde. She could not bare the thought of the other woman being in pain, being all alone, although alone was probably best for Brittany right now. Peace and quiet, sleep, pain medication. She hoped the blonde had managed to take some medication to help ease the throbbing in her head. If the dancer suffered anything like her mother, her sight would be suffering also. She knew she had to get to the blonde, to comfort her and make sure she was looked after. Also for her own peace of mind. So many times the blonde had taken care of her, sacrificed her time and effort and been incredibly patient with the Latina. It was Santana's turn to take care of her girl. As the yellow taxi rolled to a stop Santana's eyes sprung open, she heaved the door open and jumped out, leaving Quinn to pay the fare. She ran into the building and up the stairs taking two at a time, suddenly unearthing a wealth of boundless energy.
Upon reaching Brittany's door, she held up her hand to knock, she took a breath, regaining her composure and forced her fist forward, knuckles hitting wood. She was nervous, yet she had no clue why. Santana had spent most of the evening running around the City, looking for Brittany, praying to anyone who would listen that she was safe. The Chef knocked gently against the wood. She paused. And waited. When she heard no stirring's from inside the apartment she tried again. Harder this time. Knock, knock, knock. A stern hit upon the door. Again she paused. Turned her head and inched her ear closer to the door. Slowly she moved until she felt the cold, solid oak against her skin. She could hear them. Faint. Footsteps. They were getting closer, becoming louder the nearer they got. Santana's heart was in her throat, any moment Brittany would open the door, the blonde would fall into her arms and the brunette could take care of her. The footsteps were so close now, the hairs on the Latina's neck stood on end in anticipation, she slowly lifted her head away from the door. And waited.
"What are you doing?" the voice said from behind in her ear.
"Jesus fucking Christ Quinn. What the actual fuck?" Santana yelled, spinning around fists raised in defence, an angry scowl on her face. The blonde's eyes widened before she cracked a face splitting grin.
"Woah, chill out Sugar Ray Robinson."
"Who? What?" Santana snapped.
"Boxing?" the brunette starred blankly at her friend. "No?" Quinn asked with a slight shake of the head, Santana's scowl becoming more sinister. "Ooookay." She drawled out with a shrug. "What are you doing?"
"I'm waiting for my girlfriend to answer the door."
"Maybe she's asleep." Quinn suggested. "Do you have a key?"
Santana huffed, her eyes finding her feet. "No." she said quietly, "I don't have a key." she felt somewhat embarrassed that she and Brittany were so in love and so together yet they had not exchanged apartment keys. Truthfully, she had not had the time to get another cut, she had been meaning to and she and Brittany had joked about it. She knew the blonde too was short on downtime and they preferred to spend their precious time either with each other or catching up on household chores. Santana raised her eyes and looked into the sympathetic hazel gaze before her.
"It's ok. Try again." Quinn offered with a reassuring smile. Santana knocked the door again, a little firmer than the prior two times. She starred intently at the door, willing it to open. The seconds felt like hours. When no response came, the chef gritted her teeth and furrowed her brow. She bowed her head, feeling entirely helpless. "San." the blonde spoke. "We should go."
"I, I can't." Santana replied with a stutter. Not only did she not want to leave, she could not leave. She wanted to stay, wanted to be able to see Brittany as soon as possible and if that meant sitting outside of her door on the cold tiled floor then so be it. She would. Only Quinn had other ideas. The restaurateur was straight-laced and sensible. She was logical and was able to see the bigger picture, whereas the Latina was a more insular in her thinking, blinkered and almost too focused on what she wanted which did not always mean it was the best thing to do.
"Santana." Quinn urged quietly, her soft hand tugged gently at the brunette's arm. The Latina looked up at her friend, forlorn and lost. She knew there was little she could do until Brittany was awake and responsive to her phone messages. She just hoped it was not more serious. Widening her eyes, an idea struck her. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled her cell phone and began to search for a number. A small, triumphant smile tugged at her lips as she found what she was looking for before holding the device to her ear. It was then she realised she was shaking, her unsteady hand gripped the phone tightly as she heard the ringing through the earpiece.
"Hello?" came the abrupt answer on the other end of the line.
"Ray? Hi, it's Santana." she paused, "Lopez." the brunette added for clarity.
"Santana, hello. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Er, I'm," she paused, trying to figure out her words, not wanting to worry her girlfriend's father. "I'm concerned about Brittany. She left work with a migraine and I can't get a hold of her. Has she had one before?" Santana asked with trepidation.
"Arh," came the immediate knowing response. "Yes, she has. Poor Brittany's suffered several migraines over the past few years. It usually mostly affects her vision, but she has had the headache to go with it." he explained. "She'll be fine after a good sleep, plenty of water and some pain meds." Ray reassured, "She knows how to handle it Santana, you don't need to worry."
The brunette let out an almighty sigh of relief and a small tear trickled from her tired eyes which she swiped at. Smiling she thanked Brittany's father for his reassuring words and grateful at his insistence the last time they met that she take his number should she ever need to call. "And please pass on my regards to Mrs Pierce. Brittany told me about their phone call."
"Yes." Ray replied, "I'm afraid I endured an earful after that particular conversation." he chuckled. Santana roused another smile as thoughts of Valerie wagging her finger in her husband's face, although the realness of the situation would be far from comical.
"I'm sorry Ray. You know Britt really wanted to be able to tell her in person with you there too."
"To act as a buffer?"
"Quite possibly." Santana grinned, knowing her girlfriend all too well.
"Val told me about the situation with Daniel." Ray stated, there was a moment's silence, the Latina had anticipated he intended to say more, "Thank you Santana for being there for my baby girl." A sudden flash of guilt hit Santana like a freight train, because in reality, she was not there for Brittany and had walked out on her, leaving the blonde with the predatory ex boyfriend. She glanced sideways at Quinn, the woman she had spent her time with whilst Brittany had suffered. Shaking her head to rid the thoughts from her mind, the brunette placed a hand over the number on Brittany's front door. It was number forty three, Brittany's favourite number because 'if you turn your head it almost looks like a heart. Sort of.' Santana smiled at the memory, her mind replaying the blonde head tilting to the right as she spoke. It was then she was reminded of Brittany's persistence that the brunette was not to place any blame on herself. It had been a complicated situation to begin with and the blonde had all but begged for Santana to move passed the events of that day.
"I will do anything for her." Santana stated.
"I know sweetheart, how do you think I figured you two out?" Ray asked, amused, "I can see it in the way you look at her. " Santana could hear the smile in his voice and bit her lip with slight nerves. Here she was having a conversation with her girlfriend's father who she had only met a handful of times. He was as easy going as his daughter and found that he was incredibly pleasant to talk to. "She loves you Santana and despite her outgoing personality and ability to befriend anybody, she doesn't fall in love easily." he divulged, much to Santana's surprise. She had always assumed the dancer was full to bursting with so much love to give. But loving and being in love with were entirely different things. "Of course when it's the other way around she has people falling at her feet. But you're special, she had to woo you." he concluded. A frown formed on Santana's brow. "I'll leave that with you." he said, chuckling once again, this time Santana could not help but smile, the Pierce happiness was contagious and despite possible differences with Valerie, Santana felt very comfortable with the Pierce family. "Tell my princess to call when she's feeling better."
"Will do Ray. And thank you." as much as she wanted to add 'for everything' she knew he would understand without the need. They had developed a strong rapport since the moment they met. Santana was convinced it was in the Pierce genes. Having said their goodbyes, Santana hung up the call and turned to face her companion. "She'll be ok." the brunette said confidently with a small smile. Speaking with Brittany's father had certainly eased her worry for the blonde, although there was still a niggle in the back of her mind.
"Of course she will." Quinn started with a beaming smile. "She has you."
xx
The stairs tonight were a sheer mission. The elevator was out of action for 'maintenance work'. Santana had scoffed as she saw the sign on the elevator doors, dragging first her eyes and then her feet to the stairwell. With a huge sigh, she began her journey. Tonight, five flights just seemed five too many. She had tore across the city like a contestant in the Amazing Race, only it was far from amazing and not really a race she mused as she trudged passed the number three on the wall. Her legs grew heavier the further she ascended. It had been some time since she had visited a gym or went for a run, and was now beginning to regret it. She had little sleep the previous night, had endured further physical exertion with Brittany in the morning and then again at her apartment before both had left for work. Work. She thought, that had been challenging in it's own right with the unprecedented busyness that evening. Then there was the emotional turmoil she had endured. In all, Santana was ready to drop with her body threatening to give out at any moment.
Reaching her door she sighed with relief, never had she been so happy to see a large lump of wood. Dipping her hand into her bag, she fumbled around for a moment before it remerged, empty. She frowned, delved her hand back into her satchel and scrambled around frantically, desperate to feel the cool metal of her door key against her fingers. Yet it was not there. The Latina began to seethe, she tried again. But again, nothing. Dropping to her knees, she clumsily bashed her head against the door, wincing in pain and grunting in frustration. "Seriously?" she raised her voice at no one. The chef took her bag and tipped it upside down, emptying it's contents on the cold tiled floor. She began to sift through the contents, her wallet, tissues, gum, lip balm, ipod, a tampon, an earring, a few loose coins, a pen, a fork, 'a fucking fork?' she thought. Shaking her head, there was no key. Hearing a click and a draft of cool air drift across her face she looked up. Her front door wide open, bare feet and bare legs stood awkwardly in front of her. Just as panic set in, she raised her eyes further, her heart all but stopping as she took in the sleepy, dishevelled blonde in her doorway wearing her Dodger's t-shirt. Breathing raggedly, following an initial deep breath, Santana jumped to her feet and threw her arms around her girlfriend. Never in her life had she been so pleased to see anyone.
"Britt-Britt." she breathed into the dancer's neck. "What are you doing here?"
"I had a headache." the blonde slurred into Santana's ear. Her own arms tight around the brunette.
"I know sweetheart." Santana said, pulling back slightly and took in the tired, pale features of her girlfriend. She placed the back of her hand against the blonde's forehead and frowned at the high temperature.
"I heard a noise, and you don't have your key." Brittany explained, her eyes closing. The Latina's mind flashbacked to the rush they had been in that afternoon when Santana was late for work, Brittany had been dawdling, so the chef decided to run downstairs and hail a cab whilst the blonde locked up. She silently nodded her head at the memory. So fraught was she that she was late, she had forgotten to ask for her key.
"I don't. And you need to get into bed." Santana smiled adoringly. She gently nudged the blonde back into the apartment before turning back to the hallway. She kicked her bag and it's contents over the threshold and closed the door behind her. Santana followed Brittany into the bedroom, the blonde crawled back on the bed where the sheets were crumpled and a glass of water stood on her bed side table next to a packet of pain medication. Santana disappeared into the bathroom for a moment returning quickly to Brittany's side. Sitting on the edge of the bed where the blonde was now snuggled under the covers, her eyes closed. The brunette pressed the damp cool cloth to Brittany's forehead, earning a satisfied sigh from the other girl.
"That feels good."
"You can keep it you know." Santana said, as if a thought had escaped her lips. Brittany opened her eyes and sent a questioning gaze to her girlfriend, an infinite number of possibilities running through her mind. "The key." the brunette explained with a careful smile, her gaze fixed to the blue orbs below. As the words finally penetrated Brittany's aching head, she beamed, lifting her heavy head from the pillow and met Santana's lips with her own in swift, sweet kiss of gratitude. Since her run in the show had been extended, both women had been secretly relieved, particularly the brunette who had been unsure of Brittany's movements should her run be over. Despite assurances that she would stay in New York, both girls knew Brittany would need to go where the work was and whilst there was a wealth of opportunity in the Big Apple, there were no guarantees. Until the producers of the show offered her a decent extension with a generous pay package, there was that element of doubt. It had been Santana's intention to give the blonde a key to her apartment, it just had not happened yet. "I'm so glad you're ok." the brunette said, a lump in her throat forming.
Brittany smiled lazily, closing her eyes with fatigue, "S'only a migraine San." she slurred.
"B, there was an accident at the theatre." Santana spoke with caution. The blonde opened one eye and frowned.
"Whaddya mean?"
"During the interval a lighting rig fell and hit your understudy."
Brittany bolted upright, her eyes shooting open, the cloth falling from her head and into her lap. "Ow, ow, ow." she winced, Santana mimicked her actions in sympathy "She ok?"
"Yeah, she's fine. But I thought it was you." Santana spoke quietly with sadness, her heart twinging at the memory.
"Oh." Brittany said. "Oh, baby." she hugged Santana tight, kissing the top of her head. "I'm ok." she reassured. "Well, I'm not, but I am." she stated, earning a small chuckle from her girl.
"I know babe. You need to get some rest and then when you wake up in the morning, you're going to call your Dad." Santana said, gently pushing the blonde back onto the bed.
"Why do I need to call my Dad?" Brittany asked with an almighty yawn.
"Because sweet cheeks, he's concerned." Santana explained as she pulled the duvet tightly around Brittany. She leant down and kissed the blonde's forehead. "I may have called him because I was worried." the brunette let out quickly and quietly. The blonde's mouth gaped open before she leaned up and kissed Santana's lips again.
"Ohmygod you amaze me Santana Lopez." the Latina blushed and shook her head from side to side, "I love you so much."
"Me too." Santana said before rising from the bed. "I'm just going to change for bed and I'll be right back ok?"
"Mmmhmm." Brittany replied, closing her eyes once again, sleep threatening to pull her from reality. "Hurry."
Moments later, as promised, Santana climbed into the bed and under the covers, snaking her arm over Brittany's stomach, hugging her tightly. She laid her head on the blonde's chest and smiled as it was her favourite way to sleep. Brittany mumbled something incoherently, causing the brunette's heart to swell. Today had been a test for Santana as well as a day with one important revelation. Hearing that Brittany did not fall in love easily was both surprising and very welcome at the same time. She had not thought much about it, but would imagine that with Brittany's huge heart and all the love she had to give, the blonde would fall in love with ease. The truth was, Brittany did love with ease. She saw the good in everyone and everything, she loved to help people and was friendly with everyone she came into contact with. Her motto was to treat others as you would like to be treated and it worked for her. However sometimes she had a tendency to be a little too trusting of people. What Santana had not realised was that she kept her heart as guarded as Santana and believed it was a very precious gift to give to one special person. Whilst being with the blonde was exhilarating, it was also scary at the same time as it was both an education and a journey. Although they were at the very beginning of their relationship, the Latina was excited for the first time ever to fully share her heart and her life with someone. She trusted Brittany implicitly, and with every new revelation, Santana loved Brittany just that little bit more. She sighed and snuggled closer into the sleeping beauty, feeling relieved and happy, but ultimately exhausted. She yawned before fully relaxing and falling into a peaceful slumber.