"LT, it’s super late… or crazy early… what are you doing…"
"Don’t scream, Britt, it’s just me," Santana says as gently and quietly as she possibly can while climbing in through Brittany’s window.
"Santana? I hate this dream… you always leave with Vita Sackville-West…" Brittany mumbles into her pillow. Santana only just hears her what with her foot getting stuck followed by her crashing to the floor face-first. "Santana? Ohmygod, Santana," Brittany says, suddenly wide awake and at Santana’s side, "are you hurt? What are you doing here?"
"Breaking my goddamn head, apparently," Santana huffs while righting herself so she’s sitting on Brittany’s floor. "I didn’t mean to wake you," Santana apologizes, put her hand on Brittany’s shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.
"So, what, you’re here to rob the place?" Brittany asks, aiming for a joke but falling flat.
"A girl asked me to be her girlfriend the other night. Last night; whatever." Brittany is proud of not falling on her face, given how her entire world just tipped sideways at the thought of Santana belonging to someone else. "It was awful and bad and wrong and it wasn’t supposed to be, you know?"
No, Brittany does not know. How could anything possibly compare to Santana and Brittany together?
"It was supposed to be OK. I was gonna figure it all out, Britt. How to be a lesbian, how to be a good girlfriend, how to not panic all the time about everything, maybe get a decent job and be able to support us while I was at it. I can’t. I can’t be with someone who isn’t you; not even for practice…"
"Are you drunk?" It comes out more harshly than Brittany means it to, and Santana winces.
"No, I’m just stupid and clumsy and stupid. God, I’m so stupid, Britt. How do you stand it? How could you possibly have stayed with me through all the mistakes I’ve made, the mistakes I’m still going to make. I’m so sorry Brittany. I had to see you. Things only make sense with you there. Things are OK when you’re there. I just had to see you so my brain would work again. I really didn’t mean to wake you."
"I can’t do this. You can’t do this to me. If you’re gone you have to be gone," and suddenly Brittany is on the verge of tears again.
"That’s what I’m trying to tell you; I can’t do it. I can’t be gone and let you be happy doing whatever until I sort my shit out. I wanted to be strong enough to be without for a little while so then we could be together forever, but I’m not strong enough—"
"I’m not happy doing whatever, I’m happy with you!" The tears fall now, and Brittany throws her arms around Santana, determined to never let go again.
"I’m not with you, though. I’m in New York and I don’t call enough or text enough and I want to be in the same room with you all the time and I can’t and I don’t want to hate Sam but I do and I don’t know what to do—"
The kiss surprises Santana. The kisses always surprise Santana. When they finally break apart Santana buries her face in Brittany’s neck.
"I saw about your dad’s award in the paper," Brittany says,
"Yeah. They were surprised when I came home four days early," Santana sniffles.
"I’m happy you’re here. I could use my bestie too right about now."
"I can’t believe you thought I was Lord Tubbington. I don’t weigh enough to sound like Lord Tubbington. I bet I tripped on his damn Scientology books," Santana babbles, not knowing what to say.
"You can’t stay," Brittany says quickly, like if she doesn’t get it out now she never will.
"I know, Britt-Britt. I wasn’t planning to. I… just needed to see you. I had to see you."
"Kiss me goodnight and go, OK?"
"OK. I had to see you," Santana repeats before gently kissing Brittany goodnight and crawling back out the window.