A/N: I've not written a fanfic since forever ago...so this could be complete crap. It's just a short little fic to get me back into it. Plus, I'm in love with Brittana, or 'SanTITtany', so it had to happen :P


Brittany sat up in her bed, swinging her legs around and crossing them in front of herself. Santana stayed laying on her back beside her, laptop on her stomach as she typed away on the keys. Brittany read what she was punching in as she played with the red hair band that she held in her hands.

Well we'll go to to the movies then, but you should learn a woman's standards before you go asking them on a date.

She was talking to Puck, organising her plans for the next day. Brittany didn't mind much that the room had fallen silent a few minutes earlier while Santana had focused on her conversation. It was a comfortable silence.

You never have had, don't have, and never will have standards. Besides, I never heard any complaints.

Brittany heard a slight scoff come from her friend before she replied almost instantly.

You clearly never listened to a word I said then.

"San..."

The other girl let her head fall to the side, looking up at Brittany wordlessly. She didn't bother asking what she wanted, knowing that she would be receiving the end of the statement soon anyway.

Brittany looked away from her hands an back to Santana, "Why do we never go to the movies on dates?" she asked innocently, seeming genuinely confused.

Santana laughed, turning back to the laptop and reading her newly received reply. Another suggestive, flirtatious comment from Puck filled the screen, and she started effortlessly replying in kind. She can't remember the last conversation that she had with Puck that wasn't back and forth flirting.

"You go on dates with Puck," Brittany continued.

"Because we're dating," Santana pointed out, completing her reply and again turning to Brittany, "that's what people do when they're dating."

"I thought sex wasn't dating."

Santana paused for a moment, sighing and beginning to sit up, pushing down the lid of the laptop and not bothering to say her goodbyes to Puck. "Girls don't...date," Santana stated, sitting opposite Brittany in the same, cross-legged position.

Brittany seemed to take it in for a moment, shaking her head in disagreement a few moments later. "I used to have a friend and she had two moms. They dated, right?"

Santana furrowed her eyebrows, shrugging. She hoped this would be easier...

"I remember because my mom found out that we were friends and told me that I couldn't go to her house any more because her mom had the lesbian...I thought it was like...the flu or something."

Santana laughed in spite of herself, looking off to the side and shaking her head at her friend, who told the story with dead seriousness. "That's the thing," she began as she looked back, still a smile on her face. "You're not a lesbian. I'm not a lesbian. So this," she said, moving her hand back and forth and pointing at the two of them for emphasis, "It's not dating.

Brittany nodded, looking down at her hands again and looking slightly dejected.

Santana frowned, watching on. In all honesty, and in pretty much every way, what she had with Brittany was so much more than what she had with Puck. They genuinely cared for one another. When they said I love you, it meant something. It wasn't when they were in the heat of passion, saying it because they thought it was the right thing to do, unlike when she was with Puck.

The one time that Brittany had said those three words with such intensity; her breaths heavy and unsteady as she watched Santana squirm below her, the confession coming out as nothing more than a whisper, Santana had chosen to ignore it.

She couldn't help but think about it sometimes, though...

"Brit..." she attempted, waiting for the girls head to rise. It didn't. "Brit," she tried again. When she again received no reaction, she moved her fingers slowly under her chin, delicately pulling her head up and looking her in the eyes. "You know I love you," she smiled, "so why does it matter if we go on some lame-ass date?"

Brittany couldn't help the small, uncertain smile that edged it's way onto her face. She quickly frowned again, though, which caused Santana to drop her hand.

"I don't know what you want me to say," Santana proclaimed, her annoyance showing as she threw her hands into the air for dramatic effect.

There was a short pause as Santana's agitated face looked on, waiting for some sort of answer. "Do you..." Brittany began, glancing up, "...do you love Puck more than me?" she asked.

Santana's heart felt like it had dropped to her stomach. The worry in the blonde's voice; like she wasn't sure that she wanted the answer, like she knew it already. Santana hated herself for making Brittany unhappy. She could torment others, terrify them into doing almost anything, but hurting Brittany wasn't something that she would ever do intentionally.

"I..." she began, not exactly knowing how to answer. She wanted to tell her exactly how she felt; tell her the complete truth, much like Brittany had done with her that night. "I love you in a different way," she finally settled on.

The look on Brittany's face showed that the answer wasn't good enough. She nodded nonetheless, at least trying to be convincing, before her gaze moved to that same spot on her bed.

Santana took a breath. "I don't think...I, um..." She sighed in frustration, closing her eyes as tightly as she could and throwing her head back, squeezing her eyelids together. She suddenly felt like she was in kindergarten again, but she didn't care. "I don't think I ever could love anyone as much as you," she almost blurted out, leaving no spaces between each word and she rushed to get it out.

Opening up was something that she found extremely difficult to do. Even to Brittany.

She slowly edged one eye open; daring a look at her friend, who was still looking down but was housing a small smirk. She opened the other, settling her eyes determinedly; refusing to close them again until she had seen that infectious smile dance back onto Brittany's face, and they were both lying, arms wrapped tightly around each other and foreheads touching, and falling into a comfortable sleep.

That felt like a distant dream right now, though.

"I want you to feel like I do," Brittany voiced, still as calmly as before, a hint of sadness plaguing her words.

"And how's that?" Santana asked with masked nervousness. She knew the answer.

"I just...I want to kiss you all the time," Brittany began, somehow finding the bravery to look up and at Santana, still playing with the hair band. "When we're in school, I don't want to wait until we're alone in the changing rooms, or until the bathrooms are empty. I just want to kiss you...like you do with Puck."

Santana was the one to look down now, her hands also beginning to fidget nervously. She wasn't one for being scared or vulnerable, but this was Brittany.

Brittany who picked her up from the ground when they were only five, asking if the cut on her knee was okay and giving her the most disastrous piggyback ever until they found a teacher.

Brittany who wiped away Santana's tears when the news of her mother and father's split came out, becoming the only rock in the nine-year-old's life.

Brittany who kissed Santana lightly on the lips at her thirteenth birthday party, innocently climbing up and running away moments later, followed closely by Santana to continue their playful game of tag.

Brittany who held her while she cried, hearing the story of Puck cheating when she 'wouldn't put out' for the first time at her sixteenth birthday party.

Brittany, who on that same night, made Santana feel things that she had never felt before and slept, their legs and arms entwined and bodies stripped bare, next to her.

Santana smiled at the memories, still looking into Brittany's bright blue eyes, which were, at the moment, looking quite confused.

"What's wrong, San?" she asked at the small smile creeping on her best friend's face.

"I just..." Santana trailed off, almost breathlessly, "I love you," she said with such simplicity, such intensity, and such meaning.

Brittany's face broke into a smile, her hands, for the first time, lying dead still on her bed. Santana's hands had found their way onto her soft skin, stroking slowly with her thumb.

If Santana was the one looking in on this moment; the ridiculously large smile on her face and the sheer joy in the words she was saying, she would make some quip about it being sickly, how they should get a grip. But it wasn't anyone else. It was her. It was Brittany. And quite frankly, right now, she didn't want any sort of 'grip'.

"I love you," she repeated through a laugh, one that was returned by the blonde, who moved her own hands onto Santana's hips and pulled her backwards until she was leaning on top of her.

"I love you too," she smiled, moving the hair from her face.

Santana studied her features, tracing her smile with her fingers before placing her lips upon it.

It wasn't the biggest of gestures. It wasn't a huge confession; a monologue declaring undying love. There was nothing fancy about it, nothing Shakespeare, but it was honest and it was real.

She loved her, and that's all she needed to say.