Brittana, childhood dreams

Santana always loved going over to Brittany's house for sleepovers. They would pull out the blonde girl's Disney Princess sleeping bags and put on Aladdin and curl up against each other on Brittany's living room floor with a bag of gummy worms. They sang all the songs, and argued over who was Aladdin and who was Jasmine. Santana always let Brittany be Jasmine, though, and by the end of the night they had their pinkies linked together and their faces close together, and it didn't matter who was the princess and who was the street urchin who fell in love with her, because they were together, and they were best friends, and nothing was ever going to be wrong again.

Things did go wrong. Even with Santana so close, still clinging to her hand like a lifeline, Brittany would have nightmares. Santana, who was, thankfully, a light sleeper even as a kid, would be started awake by Brittany's fussing in her sleep. She would be shivering in her footie pajamas, face scrunched up. She would whimper into Santana's neck, fists balled into the sleeping bag or grabbing blindly at the young Latina's. Santana would blink sleepily and, without thinking, wrap her arms around the blonde girl, squeezing her tight against her chest, murmuring into her ear little soothing sounds and whispers about Princess Jasmine and the tiger Brittany loved so much. She would feel more than see Brittany's breathing calm, watch the way she let out little puffs of air as he breathing hitched and he sobs gave way to inching closer to her best friend.

Santana never asked about the nightmares. It was enough that she was there.

Brittany never told her that the nightmares were always dreams of Santana leaving her. And as she watched that girl flinch from her hug and run blindly down the halls of McKinley, all she could think about was the half awake comfort of a six year old Santana Lopez holding her against her soft, slight frame, and the fervent prayer that nothing would ever change.