Fic: Comfort
Title: Comfort
Author: mallardeer
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG
Summary: Santana’s sick. Brittany wants to take care of her.
Spoilers: None, pre-Glee.
Author’s Note: Here’s some mini-Brittana fluff. It has been a while since I’ve written any.
Brittany always had trouble on the days Santana wasn’t at school. Quinn wasn’t as nice to her, and no one was there to trip Noah when he tried to pull her hair. Santana knew this very well, so she hardly ever missed school-she was probably the only third grader who never asked to stay home. So when Brittany didn’t find Santana waiting for her at their bus stop that Wednesday morning, she knew her friend must be really sick. She was anxious about Santana all day, driving Quinn crazy until she yelled at her, but Brittany hardly even noticed. She just wanted to see Santana.
When she got home from school, she told her mother she was going to Santana’s, which was such a routine occurrence that her mother didn’t even think twice about it. “Be home for dinner, Brittany,” was all she said, and Brittany nodded and ran through her backyard, then the Wilsons’ and then across the street to Santana’s house. “Well, hello, Miss Brittany,” Santana’s dad greeted her at the door.
“Hi,” she said, suddenly shy. “I just…” She found she didn’t really have the words to explain why she was there.
But it didn’t matter. “I should have known you’d turn up right after school,” Mr. Lopez said, letting her inside. “Santana’s been unhappy all day, but I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”
“Thanks,” she said softly, smiling at him, and then she ran upstairs to Santana’s room. She carefully pushed the door open and found Santana curled in a ball in the middle of her bed, looking miserable. “San?” she called hesitantly, stepping into the room.
“Go ‘way,” Santana muttered, pulling her blanket over her head.
“Oh, but,” Brittany stammered, feeling as though Santana had kicked her, “you’re sad.”
“I’m not sad, I’m just sick,” Santana retorted, her voice muffled by the blanket.
“I always get sad when I’m sick,” Brittany offered, cautiously approaching the bed. “And when I’m sad, you always try to make me feel better.”
Sighing, Santana poked her head out of the blankets. Brittany smiled and sat down on the end of the bed, reaching to carefully smooth damp hair back from the other girl’s forehead. “You shouldn’t, Britt,” she murmured. “You’ll get sick.”
Brittany just shrugged. “Then you can come to my house and make me feel better.”
Santana couldn’t hide her smile at that logic, and she couldn’t deny that having Brittany here, with her fingers gently moving through her hair was making her feel better. She hadn’t slept at all the night before, and her day home with her dad had been terrible, but just having Brittany beside her was helping. “I missed you at school,” Brittany said conversationally. “Noah pulled my hair again. Quinn yelled at him, but he just laughed at her. He never laughs at you.”
“He knows if he laughs at me, I’ll punch him in the stomach,” Santana replied matter-of-factly, and Brittany giggled. “Britt, my head hurts,” she complained, so Brittany put a soft hand against her forehead.
“You’re warm, San,” she noticed.
“Papa says I have a fever. That’s not why my head hurts.”
“Oh.” Brittany didn’t know what to say, so she started stroking Santana’s hair again. “Do you want me to get you anything?” she asked. “Water or juice or-or tissues?” She wanted to help, but she wasn’t sure what Santana needed. She was having trouble understanding Santana, which frustrated her because usually she could understand Santana even when she spoke Spanish.
“No,” Santana said shortly, and she knew she was close to driving Brittany away, but she just didn’t want to have to say anything. “Just. Don’t go, okay?”
“Okay,” Brittany said uncertainly, but she didn’t go, and she didn’t stop stroking Santana’s hair, and in a few minutes, she realized her friend was asleep.
She didn’t want to leave, but she knew she would have to, so she just stayed by Santana’s side until dinnertime. When she got up, though, Santana stirred and whined incoherently, so Brittany put her hand on Santana’s dark head again, and she settled back to sleep. Figuring she was stuck there, Brittany kicked off her shoes and lay down beside Santana, still stroking her hair. After a while, she began to hum softly, a song she didn’t really remember, but whenever she’d heard it, it had made her think of Santana.
Mr. Lopez found her there a few minutes later, almost asleep herself, but when he called her name, she dutifully scrambled out of bed. “You were supposed to be home for dinner, your mother tells me,” he scolded fondly, and Brittany shrugged.
“She almost woke up when I tried to leave,” she explained, and Mr. Lopez smiled.
And then Santana did wake up. “Britt,” she called groggily, and Brittany looked at Santana’s dad.
“I’m sorry, Brittany. Your mom wants you home,” he said gently. “I’ll take good care of Santana for you, okay?”
“Okay,” Brittany said reluctantly, but she dutifully headed home.
“Oh, here you are,” her mom greeted her, but she said nothing, just set the table like she was told and then went to sit in the living room with her dad.
“What’s got you all glum, twinkle toes?” he asked, setting her on his knee.
“Santana’s sick,” she said, leaning against him. “I wanted to make her feel better.”
“I bet you did,” her dad assured her. “Just like Santana can always make you feel better, right?”
“Right,” she said thoughtfully, and then she smiled widely at him.
“Come on. Let’s go see if we can help your mom finish dinner,” he suggested, and he carried her into the kitchen.
Later that night, after Brittany’s dad had put her to bed, she did something she’d never done before. She crept out of bed, out of the house, through the Wilsons’ yard, across the street, and to the Lopezes’ front steps. She found the key hidden under the rock beside the steps and carefully let herself inside. The house was dark, but she knew it as well as her own, and without making any noise at all, she had soon slipped inside Santana’s bedroom.
Her friend was tossing and turning, and Brittany didn’t think she was asleep. “Santana,” she whispered, and the other girl sat up.
“Britt?” she asked, confused.
“Hi,” Brittany said softly, and she climbed onto Santana’s bed. “I thought maybe you couldn’t sleep.”
“What time is it?” Santana asked, but Brittany just shrugged and crawled over to sit beside her. “Britt, you shouldn’t be here, should you?”
“’Course I should. You need me,” Brittany said simply, and Santana’s face felt hot in a way that had nothing to do with her fever.
“You’re gonna get sick,” she sighed, but Brittany just rolled her eyes-or tried to, anyway. She could never do it the way Santana could. Santana saw her and giggled a little.
“Do you wanna read?” Brittany offered, picking Where the Wild Things Are up off of Santana’s bookcase.
“Yes,” Santana decided, reaching over to turn on her lamp. She cuddled against Brittany’s side, and Brittany smoothed her hair and then began to read.
But Santana was so exhausted that she fell asleep while Max was still sailing to the place where the wild things are. Brittany finished the story anyway, because she liked it herself. Then she reached over Santana to turn off the light, and settled in to fall asleep with her.
Author: mallardeer
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG
Summary: Santana’s sick. Brittany wants to take care of her.
Spoilers: None, pre-Glee.
Author’s Note: Here’s some mini-Brittana fluff. It has been a while since I’ve written any.
Brittany always had trouble on the days Santana wasn’t at school. Quinn wasn’t as nice to her, and no one was there to trip Noah when he tried to pull her hair. Santana knew this very well, so she hardly ever missed school-she was probably the only third grader who never asked to stay home. So when Brittany didn’t find Santana waiting for her at their bus stop that Wednesday morning, she knew her friend must be really sick. She was anxious about Santana all day, driving Quinn crazy until she yelled at her, but Brittany hardly even noticed. She just wanted to see Santana.
When she got home from school, she told her mother she was going to Santana’s, which was such a routine occurrence that her mother didn’t even think twice about it. “Be home for dinner, Brittany,” was all she said, and Brittany nodded and ran through her backyard, then the Wilsons’ and then across the street to Santana’s house. “Well, hello, Miss Brittany,” Santana’s dad greeted her at the door.
“Hi,” she said, suddenly shy. “I just…” She found she didn’t really have the words to explain why she was there.
But it didn’t matter. “I should have known you’d turn up right after school,” Mr. Lopez said, letting her inside. “Santana’s been unhappy all day, but I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.”
“Thanks,” she said softly, smiling at him, and then she ran upstairs to Santana’s room. She carefully pushed the door open and found Santana curled in a ball in the middle of her bed, looking miserable. “San?” she called hesitantly, stepping into the room.
“Go ‘way,” Santana muttered, pulling her blanket over her head.
“Oh, but,” Brittany stammered, feeling as though Santana had kicked her, “you’re sad.”
“I’m not sad, I’m just sick,” Santana retorted, her voice muffled by the blanket.
“I always get sad when I’m sick,” Brittany offered, cautiously approaching the bed. “And when I’m sad, you always try to make me feel better.”
Sighing, Santana poked her head out of the blankets. Brittany smiled and sat down on the end of the bed, reaching to carefully smooth damp hair back from the other girl’s forehead. “You shouldn’t, Britt,” she murmured. “You’ll get sick.”
Brittany just shrugged. “Then you can come to my house and make me feel better.”
Santana couldn’t hide her smile at that logic, and she couldn’t deny that having Brittany here, with her fingers gently moving through her hair was making her feel better. She hadn’t slept at all the night before, and her day home with her dad had been terrible, but just having Brittany beside her was helping. “I missed you at school,” Brittany said conversationally. “Noah pulled my hair again. Quinn yelled at him, but he just laughed at her. He never laughs at you.”
“He knows if he laughs at me, I’ll punch him in the stomach,” Santana replied matter-of-factly, and Brittany giggled. “Britt, my head hurts,” she complained, so Brittany put a soft hand against her forehead.
“You’re warm, San,” she noticed.
“Papa says I have a fever. That’s not why my head hurts.”
“Oh.” Brittany didn’t know what to say, so she started stroking Santana’s hair again. “Do you want me to get you anything?” she asked. “Water or juice or-or tissues?” She wanted to help, but she wasn’t sure what Santana needed. She was having trouble understanding Santana, which frustrated her because usually she could understand Santana even when she spoke Spanish.
“No,” Santana said shortly, and she knew she was close to driving Brittany away, but she just didn’t want to have to say anything. “Just. Don’t go, okay?”
“Okay,” Brittany said uncertainly, but she didn’t go, and she didn’t stop stroking Santana’s hair, and in a few minutes, she realized her friend was asleep.
She didn’t want to leave, but she knew she would have to, so she just stayed by Santana’s side until dinnertime. When she got up, though, Santana stirred and whined incoherently, so Brittany put her hand on Santana’s dark head again, and she settled back to sleep. Figuring she was stuck there, Brittany kicked off her shoes and lay down beside Santana, still stroking her hair. After a while, she began to hum softly, a song she didn’t really remember, but whenever she’d heard it, it had made her think of Santana.
Mr. Lopez found her there a few minutes later, almost asleep herself, but when he called her name, she dutifully scrambled out of bed. “You were supposed to be home for dinner, your mother tells me,” he scolded fondly, and Brittany shrugged.
“She almost woke up when I tried to leave,” she explained, and Mr. Lopez smiled.
And then Santana did wake up. “Britt,” she called groggily, and Brittany looked at Santana’s dad.
“I’m sorry, Brittany. Your mom wants you home,” he said gently. “I’ll take good care of Santana for you, okay?”
“Okay,” Brittany said reluctantly, but she dutifully headed home.
“Oh, here you are,” her mom greeted her, but she said nothing, just set the table like she was told and then went to sit in the living room with her dad.
“What’s got you all glum, twinkle toes?” he asked, setting her on his knee.
“Santana’s sick,” she said, leaning against him. “I wanted to make her feel better.”
“I bet you did,” her dad assured her. “Just like Santana can always make you feel better, right?”
“Right,” she said thoughtfully, and then she smiled widely at him.
“Come on. Let’s go see if we can help your mom finish dinner,” he suggested, and he carried her into the kitchen.
Later that night, after Brittany’s dad had put her to bed, she did something she’d never done before. She crept out of bed, out of the house, through the Wilsons’ yard, across the street, and to the Lopezes’ front steps. She found the key hidden under the rock beside the steps and carefully let herself inside. The house was dark, but she knew it as well as her own, and without making any noise at all, she had soon slipped inside Santana’s bedroom.
Her friend was tossing and turning, and Brittany didn’t think she was asleep. “Santana,” she whispered, and the other girl sat up.
“Britt?” she asked, confused.
“Hi,” Brittany said softly, and she climbed onto Santana’s bed. “I thought maybe you couldn’t sleep.”
“What time is it?” Santana asked, but Brittany just shrugged and crawled over to sit beside her. “Britt, you shouldn’t be here, should you?”
“’Course I should. You need me,” Brittany said simply, and Santana’s face felt hot in a way that had nothing to do with her fever.
“You’re gonna get sick,” she sighed, but Brittany just rolled her eyes-or tried to, anyway. She could never do it the way Santana could. Santana saw her and giggled a little.
“Do you wanna read?” Brittany offered, picking Where the Wild Things Are up off of Santana’s bookcase.
“Yes,” Santana decided, reaching over to turn on her lamp. She cuddled against Brittany’s side, and Brittany smoothed her hair and then began to read.
But Santana was so exhausted that she fell asleep while Max was still sailing to the place where the wild things are. Brittany finished the story anyway, because she liked it herself. Then she reached over Santana to turn off the light, and settled in to fall asleep with her.