This is my first real Brittana fic. Based off the song Sway by the Kooks.

The pull from the bottle made its way down her throat, bringing a numbing relief. She lost count of how many she had had by now, maybe 4 or 5. Her head swam, her senses overloaded; the thrumming bass from the music, the shaking of the floors and walls. Beads of sweat ran down her neck and down her back. It was too hot, too crowded. She needed to get away. She needed to find an escape.

She moved sluggishly, trying to make her way through the crowd of teens swaying to generic club music. Her movements were slow, as if she was trying to swim through molasses. Her muscles felt sore, her eyes heavy. The harder she tried to push, the further she seemed to be away from the door.

She didn't realize she was crying, tears mixing in with the beads of sweat dripping from her forehead. She lifted her hand, rubbing away at them, surely smearing her makeup, but she didn't care. Not right now.

It was then she felt a hand tangle with hers, small and soft. It reminded her of her mother's hand. It reminded her of when she was young. It reminded her of those times she got lost on the playground or in the store, or when the thunder was too loud during a storm, her mother would grab for her hand. It was a comforting thought. But this hand was different. Instead of seeing familiar porcelain, she was met with smooth skin that was almost the colour of caramel. Comfort soon turned into panic.

She was being pulled away. She tried to fight it; the pull. She wanted to leave, that was her goal, but the pulling continued towards the staircase. She made an effort to try and scream, hoping someone would hear her, but her voice was lost over the base.

The tears only began to fall harder.

She was pulled into the upstairs hallway, dark and empty. The walls muffled the music only slightly. The thrumming and the soreness that rested in her head slowly started to fade away, but the relief was only slight. The panic of not being able to escape kept the pain in her head. The constant throbbing that matched the beat of the music. She felt a shiver through her spine, but her body felt as if it was on fire. The hand that was pulling her felt like it was leaving imaginary burns on her palm. Her heartbeat felt fast and erratic, almost as if it were about to burst out of her chest at any moment.

"Please, where are you taking me?"

It came out as a whisper, her throat swelling, making it harder for her to breathe. She waited for an answer, but it never came. She just kept being pulled along.

It felt like she was walking for hours, her movements even more languid than before. Her eyes felt impossibly heavy now, the fight to keep them open was becoming harder. She tried to make out who was pulling her, but all she saw was a blurred silhouette.

She didn't even register that they had moved from the hall and into one of the empty rooms. Her mind was impossibly foggy. Everything was coming at her in pieces; small flashes of reality before she was met with the blackness again. It was not until her back hit something soft, the object absorbing her fragile frame, did she realize where she was. She managed to open her eyes, just barely, to try and see if her suspicions were true. And they were. She had managed to make it into one of the bedrooms.

She let her eyes fall shut once again, trying to sink into the comfort of the mattress. She tried to alleviate the throbbing in her head, the tightness of her throat, and the cold sweat the rolled over her skin. But the more she tried to ignore it, the more she wished the feeling to go away, the worse it became.

You're safe now.

She tried to convince herself.

You escaped, nothing is trapping you anymore. You just need to breathe.

She tried to replay that mantra in her head 'You're safe now, you just need to breathe.'

Her eyes squeezed tight, focusing on the words rolling through her mind. She tried to focus on breathing; deep breaths that were slowly opening the tightness of her throat. Her body started heating, no longer as cold as she was. But now, she felt impossibly warm. The feeling was almost suffocating.


The sound seemed to echo throughout the room. The sound felt too loud. It boomed over the heavy bass that came from downstairs. The mantra that she had been repeating in her head for the last few minutes had been long forgotten. The cold sweat was returning, coating her skin. The tightness of her throat was more prominent now.

Panic, that's what this was.

The tightness, the aching, the cool sheen of sweat that coated her skin, they were all symptoms. She was having a panic attack.

Her limbs were heavy, but she did her best to move. She thrashed her body on the bed, looking for a way to escape; looking for a way to escape the room, to escape the house. But she felt so tired, too tired to fight.


Her movements stopped, the voice was so similar. It was so soothing. She opened her eyes as wide as she could, trying to decipher the blurred silhouette. She tried, and she failed. Not being able to keep her eyes open long enough to focus.

"Britt, can you hear me?" the voice was full of concern.

"Out"she had managed to whisper out, her throat still constricted.

She wished she could speak louder. She wanted someone to hear her. She wanted someone to help her.

The voice that was speaking to her sounded so familiar, so calm. It was like she had spoken to this figure a dozen times. She knew this person, but she didn't know who they were. She knew the tanned hands that reminded her of her mother, and the voice that soothed the ache in her head and in her limbs. She may not be able to see through the blurry haze, but she felt like she had known this voice her whole life. She trusted this person.

She felt the bed dip beside her, fingers pushing the bangs away from her eyes.

"Hey Britt, you with me?"

Her eyes opened, taking in the raven-coloured hair; colour that held such darkness but failed to match the lightness in the voice that met her ears. This person was a contradiction; she was a contradiction.

Brittany lifted her hand with all the strength she had, reaching out until she grasped the dark locks, combing her fingers through the girl's hair. It was so soft, almost like silk. The pads of her fingers kept continuously pulling through the girl's hair.

Her movements were stopped when a hand grabbed her own, that same softness from before. But with that softness came a burning sensation, leaving invisible scars on her palms.

"Brittany, talk to me. How much did you have to drink?"

"Not that much," she managed out.

"Finally, I thought I lost you there."

Brittany opened her eyes, taking in the girl's smile; the whites of teeth so visible in the darkness of the room. Brittany managed to get her hand loose, reaching forward to cup the girl's face. She could feel the girl leaning into her touch, her skin smooth against her palm. Brittany's palm brushed against the softness of her cheek before moving lower, the pad of her thumb finding plump lips. Lips that felt so familiar, so comforting.

"San?" Brittany's voice was louder now, the tightness in her throat gone.

"Hey," Santana's smile got impossibly wider.

"You saved me," Brittany returned the smile.

"I didn't realize you needed saving."

"Neither did I."

Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, taking in Santana's features; her lips, her cheeks and her haunting brown eyes; eyes that held so much question and so much fear. Her eyes revealed everything about her, but it seemed Brittany was the only one who was able to read them. Everyone else fell for the mask that Santana put on. It was almost as if everyone else was trying to read her eyes through sunglasses, unable to truly see threw that darkness.

Brittany was the only one that really saw Santana.

Brittany began to lean forward, like she had done a million times behind closed doors. She made an attempt to catch Santana lips, but she soon felt the girl pull away quickly.

"What are you doing?" Brittany watched Santana eye the door furiously, almost as if she expected someone to be there. No one was.

"I thought that...we do it all the time, San."

"Not here. People can see us here. And I'm not..." her voice trailed off.

Brittany was all too familiar with the routine. The anger that came immediately, and the denial that came shortly after. She was all too familiar with Santana trying to sort through labels that didn't have to exist. Santana spent so much time trying to fit herself into a box or into a title that she forgot to be herself. She forgot to be happy.

"I'm not a lesbian, Britt," she spit out.

"I didn't say you were. I didn't say you had to be anything, I just want you to be Santana."

"I don't like girls, okay? What we're doing is not okay. It needs to stop."

"Do you want it to stop?"

She never did want it to stop. She tried to make it stop, lord know she did. But at the end of the day, they both ended up writhing beneath Brittany's sheets. Bodies coated in a sheen of sweat, whispering or screaming each other's names as they fell over the edge.

Brittany managed to lift herself from the bed, her movements much more fluid; the pain gone, her mind clear. Her body was no longer at liberty to the panic. She walked over to Santana slowly, making sure the girl didn't get scared off. Santana watched the girl move across the small distance, her eyes scared, but she made no attempt to flee. She just watched as Brittany slowly swayed towards her.

Brittany stopped in front of her, reaching slowly for Santana's hand. Brittany loosely tangled their fingers, admiring the contrast; the contrast of porcelain and caramel. The contrast that was so reflective of them and their personalities. They were both so opposite, like day and night. And yet, they found a way to fit together. Through tangled fingers or tangled beneath bed sheets. They just fit.

Santana didn't want them to fit though.

Brittany watched as Santana eyed their linked hands. Brown eyes followed Brittany's thumb as it brushed across knuckles. If Brittany hadn't been watching the girl so closely, she would have missed the faint smile that adorned Santana's lips. A smile that was gone sooner than it came, the small bit of happiness soon replaced by a look of sadness and confusion.

"Brit, I-"

"It's just me."

Brittany watched as Santana's gaze lifted from their joined hands to look into her eyes. Brittany could feel her heart constrict at the sadness she found there, the slight remnants of tears forming.

"I can't do this...not here."

A stray tear slid down Santana's cheek and Brittany was quick to wipe it away. Her thumb lingered for a moment, her hand slowly cupping Santana's cheek. She didn't miss the way Santana leaned into her touch, letting out a small, content sigh.

"I know you want this Santana, so why are you fighting it?"

Santana paused, the tears falling freely now. "I shouldn't want this Britt."

"But you do. And I do, so why question it?"

"It's not normal, B. This thing between us isn't normal. I should be downstairs flirting with Puck and trying to find a way to get into his pants."

"But you're not downstairs, you're with me."

"Yeah...I'm with you."

Brittany watched as that idea turned over in Santana's head. She watched the change of facial features as she tried to make her way through every detail. She watched her face scrunch with confusion or her eyes well up with sadness. It was as if she was trying to figure this whole situation out in a matter of minutes. That if she thought hard enough, it would go away and be fixed.

The thing is it wouldn't go away. And there was nothing to be fixed. Santana just couldn't see that.

"What are you thinking about?" Brittany asked, her hand finding Santana's once more.

"What I am always thinking about."

"You do this every time. You beat yourself of over something you have no control over. You like who you like, why question something so insignificant?"

"I question it because, why can't I like someone like Puck or Matt? Why is it you?"

"I can't answer those for you. No one can, it's just who you are."

"I just want to forget who I am. I want to forget all my problems and worries. I want to be numb to them. I just want a way to forget it all."

Santana pulled away and crossed the room, putting as much distance between herself and Brittany as possible. She hugged herself, facing away from the blonde. Almost as if she was holding herself together.

Brittany watched the dark haired girl eye the door, debating whether it was safer to run or to stay. Each choice came with its own complications. Face the music and the lie, pretending to be something you're not, or stay with the truth, knowing who you truly are and hating it.

It upset Brittany that Santana divided herself into these two contrasting versions of herself, each version full of equal hate and want. The lie held the want of popularity; status. But the fact is it was a lie. It only reminded her of the truth; the truth that revealed itself in the darkness of Brittany's bedroom. In Brittany's bedroom came the want of golden locks and ocean blue eyes, curling fingers and quiet moans. The hate came from wanting all of those things.

Brittany crossed the room slowly, careful not to startled the other girl.

"What if we forgot together?"

Santana took a moment before turning to meet Brittany's gaze. "What are you talking about, Britt?"

Brittany continued forward slowly, making sure not to scare Santana off. Her hands found Santana's waist, her fingers tentatively gripping the soft skin above her jeans. She looked at Santana, noticing the way the girl's breath hitched.

"I'm saying, why don't we forget together," it wasn't a suggestion at this point, it was a statement.

"I can't, Britt. Not here. Not now."

Santana made an attempted to pull away, but Brittany gripped harder, pulling the girl closer to her.

"Hey," she paused, waiting for Santana to look at her. "Right now, it's just you and me in this room. Nothing beyond that door or beyond that window exists right now, just you and me. We can forget for a little while."

"Britt, it doesn't work like that. Beyond that door is a sea of people. I can't just make that go away."

The bass still made its way upstairs, down the hall and through the locked door. There was yelling and laughing that could be heard faintly. The world did exist outside of the room, but Brittany didn't want it to. She just wanted to be with Santana, and only her. She wanted it to be like they were behind her own bedroom door, ignoring the world around them.

She then noticed the IPod dock in the corner, and presumably Puck's IPod sitting in it. She let her hands fall from Santana's waist, slowly making her way over to the docking station.

"What are you doing?" Santana questioned.

Brittany ignored her, setting up the music. She scrolled through Puck's playlist, not sure about many of the songs on there. They were all pretty much classic rock or unknown titles. She gave up on finding a song and selected one at random.

Sway by the Kooks

The opening notes played through the speakers as Brittany turned it up, successfully drowning out the noise coming from downstairs. She turned, meeting the gaze of the confused Latina. Brittany made her way towards Santana, her hands confidently finding her hips. She let thumbs graze over the skin found there from where Santana's shirt rid up. She felt the girl take a shuttering breath before Brittany leaned forward to whisper into her ear.

"I'm making us forget."


"I promise I won't remember. I mean, I've had a lot to drink," she paused, her hands cupping Santana's cheeks, bringing the girl closer. "I promise," Brittany spoke, her breath hitting Santana's lips.

It was a lie Brittany constantly fed Santana, and Santana continuously accepted. It helped take away the guilt, that wrong feeling that Santana carried around. But at the end of the day, it never took away the hurt.

Santana pushed forward slowly, catching Brittany's lips. The familiarity not lost on Brittany; the feeling of Santana's plump lips against her own. It was comforting. And yet, even with the act being so familiar, it still had the ability to surprise her every time.

She didn't hesitate to pull Santana closer, gripping the girl's waist tighter. She felt Santana's hands tangle in her hair as she deepened the kiss. They were getting lost in the familiarity of each other, and the unknown beat of the music; the constant contrast that weaved its way into their lives.

Brittany pulled at the hem of Santana's shirt, wanting to remove it so she could feel the Santana's skin against her own. Santana pulled away for a moment, allowing Brittany to lift the shirt over her head.

Santana watched as Brittany trailed kisses up her toned stomach, her muscles moving underneath the familiar burn of the blonde's lips against her skin. She threw her head back as Brittany nipped at her collar bone, quick to relieve it with a flick of her tongue.

"Fuck Britt."

Brittany pulled back and removed her own shirt, desperate to feel Santana against her. She pulled the Latina close, finding her lips once again. The kiss was forceful, more aggressive. Brittany traced Santana's bottom lip with her tongue, waiting to be granted access. The Latina complied, allowing the blonde to roll her tongue against her own. Brittany could feel the way Santana moaned into her mouth, wetness immediately forming between her legs.

Brittany's hands trailed from Santana's hips to her back, finding the clasp to her bra. She quickly undid it, letting the black lace fall to the floor.

She moved down Santana's body, wrapping swollen lips around an erect nipple. She lightly bit it, relieving the pain with the flick of her tongue. She could hear Santana cursing above her as she sucked on the nipple, rolling the left between her fingers.

She felt the pull of Santana, the Latina eager to find the blonde's lips once more. She felt Santana's hands move from around her neck to her waist, hand brushing the skin just above her skirt. Brittany moaned as she felt Santana's hand snake under her skirt, her fingers trailing over the wetness.

"Fuck you're so wet, Britt."

Brittany's head rested in the crook of Santana's neck, her breaths short and quick as Santana circled her clit through the thin fabric. The blonde placed soft kisses along her neck as Santana worked her fingers over her clothed slit.

"Shit, San. You feel so good."

"Lie down on the bed."

Brittany complied, falling back on the mattress. She watched as Santana undid the button of her jeans, sliding them down her toned legs. The Latina stood there in nothing but panties. A new rush of wetness flooded between Brittany's legs.

The Latina made her way over to the bed, moving to hover over the blonde. She attached their lips only briefly before trailing them down her body. She made a path down her neck, sucking on her collar bone, trailing them down the center of Brittany's abs, causing the muscles to ripple.

Brittany watched as the girl moved down her body, trailing kisses until she reached the top of her skirt. Santana placed one more kiss there before looking to Brittany, silently asking to go further.

The blonde nodded, never denying Santana of going further. She watched as the Latina hooked her fingers in the waist band, slowly pulling both the skirt and her thong down her slender legs. She watched as Santana dropped them to the floor, joining the rest of the clothes, before she began placing kisses up her calves.

Brittany started to squirm when Santana reached her inner thighs, her kisses getting dangerously close to the blonde's core. Brittany's hips bucked, needing to feel Santana. The slow pace was killing her.

"Please San, I need you."

"What do you want?" she teased.

"Fuck me, San," Brittany pleaded.

Santana ran her tongue along the inside of Brittany's thigh, causing the girl to whimper. Santana placed teasing kisses around her core, Brittany moaning with pure want.

"Please San, stop teasing."

Santana placed a kiss to her glistening core before running a tongue through slick folds. Brittany's hand tangling in Santana's dark locks, holding the girl in place as Santana licked a trail from her entrance to her clit, circling it before repeating the motions.

"I need more, San. Fuck."

Brittany bucked her hips, searching for more friction. Santana smiled, loving the reactions she got from Brittany. The way the girl's back arched off the bed, or the way she bucked her hips into her mouth.

Santana pulled away, causing Brittany to whine, before she entered her with a single digit, her tongue flicking the blonde's clit.

"Shit San, I need more."

Santana pulled out, her finger coated in Brittany's juices. Santana moaned at the sight, the vibrations causing Brittany to scream in pleasure. She quickly added another finger, loving the feeling of Brittany stretching against her.

Santana worked her tongue over Brittany's clit, her fingers moving rapidly within the blonde. Brittany moaned and panted above her, profanities strung together every few seconds.

"San, look at me."

Brittany looked down hoping to meet Santana's gaze, but was not surprised to see the Latina failing to look at her. It was all part of the deal. No emotions. It made it less real for Santana; less of a problem. With no emotions or feelings, the whole ordeal was easier to cast to the side, blaming it on alcohol, drugs or desperation. Brittany was just desperate to see those dark brown eyes, swimming with want.

She repeated the phrase, her pleas clearly going unanswered as Santana lapped her tongue between slick folds. The sight of the girl was enough to draw her towards the edge, even if it was paired with slight rejection.

"San, I'm so close. Come here."

She pulled Santana up, quickly attaching their lips, moaning at the taste of herself on Santana's lips and tongue. Santana's movements became fast and erratic, matching the beating of their hearts. Her pacing was no longer consistent as Brittany was brought closer to the edge.

"San, I'm gonna cum."

Brittany screamed as she fell over the edge, Santana's fingers constricted by the blonde's tightness as she reached climax. Santana could feel as Brittany's juices flooded around her fingers.

Santana lazily pumped her fingers into the girl as Brittany rode out her orgasm. Her breath heavy in Santana's ear as the girl placed soft kisses to her neck.

"I love you, San," it came out as a whisper, almost as if it wasn't meant to be heard.

Santana's eyes began to well up at the proclamation. She could feel the wetness of Brittany's tears against her cheek. Santana didn't do well with heavy statements like that, and Brittany usually avoided them. But it slipped out this time. She didn't mean for it to.


"I'm sorry," it came out as a whimper. Santana pulled back to look down at the girl. "Please, just forget I said anything. I don't love you just...please forget."

Brittany moved her hand up to wipe away the Latina's tears, but Santana quickly drew away. She stood up from the bed, quickly moving around to find her clothes that had been thrown on the floor.

"I can't do this Britt," Santana said through tears.

"I'm sorry, San. Just forget I said it. I don't love you, okay?"

"We both know what this is about. I don't love you," her voice was angry now as she slipped on her jeans. "I told you not to get attached Britt."

"Don't give me that, San. 15 minutes ago you were telling me you felt the same way."

"I guess you were mistaken. I guess you really did have too much to drink tonight, Britt. Maybe you should learn to slow down."

She hastily threw on her bra and her shirt. Brittany watched from the bed, covers pulled up to her chest, all too familiar with this scene.

"Maybe you should learn to be brave for once."

Santana paused for a minute, Brittany knowing that statement struck a chord. She knew she may have gone too far with that line, but it didn't make it any less true. She just wanted, for once, for Santana to be brave for her. To finally own up to what they were doing.

"What do you think I was going to do, huh? You think we were magically going to be girlfriends after this? You say 'I love you' and I say it back and we fly off into the sunset on a fucking unicorn. Shit doesn't work out like that in Lima, Ohio. For now, you are just a warm body to me. You are a distraction 'til I get over this little phase."

"If I am just a warm body, why didn't you just go grab Puck? Why me San?" she shouted, angry with the way Santana was treating her.

"I don't love you," she paused, wiping at the tears the streaked down her cheeks. "I can't," she whispered out.

And with that, Santana ran out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Brittany broke into a sob, as she usually did, the song playing on repeat in the background.

Still I need your sway, cause you always pay for it. And I need your soul, cause you're always so soulful. And I need your heart, cause you're always in the right places.