Author's note: I'm SO SO SORRY EVERYONE! It's been like three months or something horrendous since I last updated. Sorry about that... I just had so much going on - school started again and sports and drama and I've had NO free time. Anyway, this is sort of short, but enjoy it anyway and I can't make any promises on when the next chapter will be here. Probably a month or so at the rate I'm being able to write but no guarantees. Anyway, I hope you're all doing well and REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! :)

Dani

"Hun?" Santana's sitting up in bed, shaking. It's not even light yet. "It's okay, it's okay…" I sit up and hug her, pulling the duvet around both of our shoulders.

She leans into me. I hold her tight. I know how it feels to need someone and I'm not going to let her down, ever. I promise myself that.

Eventually, when the sun's beginning to bleed greyness into the room, she lies down. I cuddle around her, holding her close. "Sleep, darling. You're going to be okay."

"What do I do now?" she whispers, rolling away from me, holding my wrists. She's asking about life in general, but that's not for me to answer.

"I'm going to get you some breakfast. Then you're going to get up, and we're going to go shopping and get dresses for the funeral. After that, we're going to come home and have cuddles." I lay it out for her. It's comforting to know where to step when you don't know how to step at all. I know that too.

"Thanks," she whispers, and then she rolls into my arms and falls back to sleep.

True to my word, next time she wakes up and huddles into me, I dab away her tears for her and then get her breakfast.

"What would you like for breakfast, San?" I've got her snuggled against my breastbone, trying to make her feel safe.

"Uh..." Choices. Difficult. "Just toast, please."

"What do you want on it?" I don't want to press her too hard, but equally I don't want to stuff it up and have her fall apart because the smallest things are going to be important to her right now.

"Peanut butter, please."

"I can do that," I say. "Gonna be okay?"

She nods, burying her head in a pillow.

"Text me if you need me, alright?" I smile at her and pick up my phone.

Santana

When Dani brings me toast, I sit up and eat it. Today I'm not pretending for her. I'm a bit hungry and although eating doesn't make me feel better, it does taste like food should today - peanuts and salty melted butter and crispy carbon multigrain.

Dani eats Nutella toast and sometimes leans over to kiss me or just give me a squeeze.

It's nice.

Next is a shower. I don't think I can be bothered when I get out of bed, but my steely eyed girlfriend picks up my bathroom basket and walks me to the shower.

Do I smell?

But when I stand under the steamy spray, it does improve my mood. I won't lie - I cry in there, where no one knows that I'm crying, but it's an acceptance kind of crying. The kind that you have to do just to show that you know how things stand.

I get dressed after that - Dani has picked my clothes too, and these aren't moping around clothes. No trackies or hoodies. Just my comfiest jeans (how does Dani know these things?) and a loose top that is appropriate for going out in. So I guess she was serious about going shopping.

It's hard for me to say to myself, but I need a dress...for the funeral. I don't own any black dresses, or if I do, they're too short for a funeral.

That's settled. I wrap a towel around my head and go straight back to my room in the hopes of getting to laze about a little longer.

No luck. Dani's waiting for me. She sits me down and brushes and blow dries my hair. The roar of the blow dryer is soothing and so is the way her fingers massage my scalp as she shakes out my hair.

She stays silent, and again I'm left wondering how Dani is so perfect. She knows when to talk and when to shut up and when she talks she knows what to say.

I process, slowly, as my hair springs into its normal shape.

"Good?" she asks afterwards.

"Great. Thank you." I manage the three words in a fairly normal voice, no desire to cry my eyes out. Progress.

"Ready to go?"

I blink, subtly checking the clock. It's only nine am.

"It's only-"

"Stores open at 8:30. We will be fine." She takes my hand and kisses me. "You might want a jersey, and you're going to have to tell me where to get off the bus."

I know what she's doing - distracting me, trying to put enough pressure on me in the here and now that I have to focus. I focus.

I choose a blue fitted jacket. My hand hovers over the hoodie, but I don't want Dani to feel like her effort is for nothing. Hoodie when I get home. Trackies when I get home. Wallowing in misery when I get home.

I trudge to the bus-stop with my hand enfolded in hers. Even the weather is conspiring to force me out of all-encompassing grief.

Bright, sunny, forcibly yellow on my eyes.

She pays for our bus ride, a fact that I cannot be bothered disputing, and chooses a seat. Her directions to me are simple. "Wait. Sit down. Breathe, Santana. Breathe."

In. Out. Out. No, that's wrong. In. Out. In.

"How are you feeling, San?" Dani looks at me with worried eyes. There's a crease in the middle of her forehead.

Like I'm drowning. A fish out of water. What's going on? "I'm okay. Still in a bit of shock, I think."

"Okay, hun."

Dani

I'm perfectly aware of Santana's grief. I know, when I push her to the shower, that she wants to crawl back to bed. I know, when I ask her to choose a jersey, that she wants the hoodie. I know why she doesn't argue with me about the bus ride. I know she's lying when she tells how she's feeling.

I also know that it's better to have something to do than not to be able to focus on anything else.

"Here," she says. One word. Her own volition. We're getting somewhere.

I stand up and hold out my arm for her. A flicker of a smile crosses her face. "I'm a chivalrous girlfriend," I whisper. The smile is more than a flicker this time.

"Dani, I'm glad I've got you."

"I know. I know it's hard, too. You just need to keep going. I'll be here." It sounds hollow, even to my ears.

I jump off the step and Santana merely kind of flops. I smile sympathetically and wrap my arm around her shoulders.

"Where do you wanna go?" I ask her, then reconsider.

Her shoulders lift under my arm, shrugging, then she adds, "I only have about fifty dollars for this." She sighs.

"My treat, hun." I keep my arm around her and I walk her up to the Forever 21 store.

"Nice," she says to my first choice. "Okay." She shakes her head to a third. "I like it," she says to another dress.

I smile. "Pretty, hmm? Go try it on," I encourage her. She takes it gingerly, like it might bite her. It doesn't. The coathanger lies dormant in her palm.

"Where's the fitting room?"

I point her to the sign that says Fitting Room.

"It's the sign that says Fitting Room. Right." She even smiles a little bit.

I nod, returning the smile. She goes to try it on without a backward glance and I move to the next rack of dresses. I've been lucky to find four black dresses, honestly. One of them, with a white collar and sleeveless design, is the one she's gone to try on. Another, the one she vetoed, has a V neckline, gold zipper and half-length sleeves. They're both just above the knee.

"Santana?" I say, standing outside the fitting room.

She doesn't reply. I knock.

"I'm fine," she says, sounding at the other end of the spectrum from 'fine'.

"Let me in," I murmur. Maybe this was a bad idea.

The door clicks unlocked. I enter.

"Come here." She's crying. Of course she is. This was a bad idea. "I'm sorry. We shouldn't have done this-"

"Shh," she says, dashing her tears away. "It's fine. It's good. I was just picturing me, at the funeral…"

"Oh," I say, pulling her into a hug.

She rubs her eyes. "Try on yours." I'm still holding the one she vetoed. It's in my size.

"Okay." I take off my current outfit and pull the dress over my head. I adjust it gently and then face Santana for opinions.

"It's nice. You look-" and her face trembles.

"It's okay," I say, hugging her to me again.

She relaxes into it, shaking a bit. "Gonna be okay, hun." I keep on murmuring.

"I'm fine, but… can we go?"

Santana

The dress makes things - everything - go wildly in and out of perspective. I have a life. I'm going to my abuelo's funeral. It's not the end of the world. It is the end of the world.

Dani pays for the dresses, takes me out to lunch. Well, morning tea. I'm out of it, spacey, as she holds my hand through the cafe queue. I know that she glances at me when she orders and then decides not to ask me what I want. It doesn't matter; I'll eat whatever she gets me.

She doesn't try to make conversation when we sit down either, except for squeezing my hand and asking me if I'm okay.

I nod, trying for a smile.

She nods back encouragingly.

The food comes. We both have a muffin, her a banana apricot one and I a peach raspberry.

I cover it in butter and eat it bite by bite. Surprisingly, it makes me feel better.

"Thanks, Dani," I say.

"You're welcome, darling." She leans across the table and kisses my cheek, smiling. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit better, now. Getting back to normal."

"Good," she murmurs.

Dani

I buy Santana something sweet to eat, knowing that in some universe sugar is good for shock and that she's probably still in shock from yesterday.

She eats in silence and I follow her lead. Which unfortunately leaves me time for some thinking.

I still haven't resolved the lyricist thing. Quinn needs a job to help support the loft, I've already called Amber about her because I forgot about Santana. Jesus, I really need to see a doctor about that. Amber said that she would be willing to wait a week and give Quinn a trial day when I fly out.

I'll find another way to make it up to Santana. I will find her an entrance to the music industry. She's not a gold digger.

Santana says something! I smile to myself. She's getting out of the funk that she's been in.

I hold a conversation with her for a few seconds, then kiss her on the cheek. She smiles.

I glow.

Santana

We go home and I feel surprisingly...better. I lean on her shoulder on the bus and she cuddles me. It's nice.

It's good that she understands. I don't know how I would cope with someone who didn't understand how to be with me without having to do something.

She holds my hand off the bus and kisses me as it pulls off.

"What do you wanna do today, San?" she asks me.

"I need some help." I have two auditions to attend on Saturday. I need an outfit, I need help choosing a song to perform. One, I'm embarrassed to admit, is to be Rachel's understudy in Funny Girl. The other is for a position as a back-up dancer in a music video.

"What kind of help…?" Dani glances at me. "You mean, psychiatric-"

"No, no, no." I manage a smile. "I have… a couple of auditions to go to. I need some help choosing an audition song and an outfit."

"Auditions? What for?" She grins. "I'm really happy for you."

"One's for Funny Girl, to be Rachel's understudy, actually. The other is for a music video, to be a back-up dancer."

"Great," she murmurs, unlocking the front door and squeezing me at the same time.

"So I'll show you the options," I say. "I've found four I like."

"Okay, hun. We could have gone shopping if you'd told me before," she smiles at me, holding her arms open. I hug her.

"It's alright." I don't think I would have coped with shopping for an audition outfit and a funeral dress in the same trip. "Come on," I say.

In my room, I pull on the first. It's a pair of fitted boyfriend jeans with a low-cut plain black singlet and a red scarf with black lipstick marks. I pair it with a pair of low black booties, loose hair and red studs.

Dani takes a picture from the front, tells me to spin around, takes one from the back and tells me to dress in the next one.

The next one is a high-cut dress that falls to about a handswidth above my knees. It's figure-hugging and has stripes in varying shades of candy. I add a half-length black blazer and knee-high boots along with dangling white earrings.

She repeats the process.

The next one is high-waisted black skinny jeans with a loose cream blouse and creamy brown platforms.

Finally, a tight plaid overshirt that I let gape open over a red singlet. The jeans are the same pair I wore with the first outfit and I have dangly silver hoops to match it.

"Nice." Dani approves them all with a sweep of her hand. "Come have a look."

I strip off my outfit and join her.

"I liked the black jeans," she says.

"I was erring on the side of the dress."

"Well, have a look." I flick through the pictures. I agree with Dani, actually. It makes me look professional.

"Okay, I agree. That's for Funny Girl. Now I need an audition song…" I bring up the playlist on my phone.

"What's your favourite song of all time?" Dani asks.

"Fix You by Coldplay."

Her eyebrows arch. "Interesting. What key do you sing it in?"

"G." Interesting? Like I don't feel bad enough as it is.

"What else is there?" She cuddles me to her chest. "I like it, hun."

"Um, Halo by Beyonce. Seesaw, Nina Nesbitt. Holes, Passenger."

"Not Halo. Everyone auditions with Halo."

I nod. "I want to do Fix You."

"Okay, hun." She takes a deep breath. "Would you...sing it for me?"

I get up. "Don't...um, laugh."

Dani throws a pillow at me. "You're a good singer. Sing."

I pick up my guitar and strum a couple of chords. I find a pattern I'm happy with and draw them out. "When you try your best...but you don't succeed…" A quick change. "When you get what you want but not what you need."

Dani

She's impressive. A little shaky sometimes but with a good vibrato.

"That's really great," I say. Oh, how fake. "No, I mean it. It's good. I like it."

"Uh… Thank you." She puts the guitar down and sits beside me. "So, you think I could use it?"

"Yeah. It's really good. Like, seriously."

"Thanks. I'll use it." She nods decisively. "I will."

"Good."

"Could we sleep now?" She looks so tired, suddenly, swaying on her feet, eyes glassy.

"Of course." I hold the covers open for her and she rolls underneath them, spooning against me.

"I've got you, San."

"I love you, Dani."

I kiss her forehead and let my embrace speak for itself.