(A/N: Post-episode 1x05.)

She hadn't meant to text Greer. Honestly, her finger had just slipped.

But now that the other girl's warmth was pressing against her side, now that those fingers were squeezing her shoulder in a comforting, easy fashion, Brenna wondered why she had ever hesitated.

Kieran was good. His lips were soft, his face was pretty, his convictions were strong. But maybe his lips just weren't soft enough, maybe his face didn't smile as often as Brenna needed, maybe his convictions were too strong.

It had been two years since her father had left. Two years since she'd heard his goofy optimism in spite of burnt scrambled eggs, or his light and easy advice, or his laugh, so full of life. And Brenna had felt emptiness at his passing, of course she had, but she had filled that dead – or dying – space up. She had filled it to the brim. And the closest filling at hand had been cynicism. Disdain. Scorn. Maybe a little bit of hate, if she was being honest with herself.

And Kieran, he was all of those things, wrapped up in a prettily tattooed package. 'My sister has cancer' had been met with a hastily proclaimed 'It's a government conspiracy, man', and really, why had she even been surprised?

Greer was soft, and Brenna wasn't just thinking that because she was so comfortable in that moment, being held. She'd hustled the girl on the tennis court, watched her twist her ankle and still hit the turf with a smile on her face. She rolled with every sarcastic, underhanded punch Ford threw at her, and she had the guts to wear head-to-toe pink.

She was a mystery to Brenna, one that she might've understood better in a different life. But there was one thing Brenna had been certain of: she was scared of being comforted, scared of needing comfort; and she knew Kieran wasn't the person to go to for this particular brand. So her finger, it had slipped. She had asked. And Greer hadn't hesitated, not for a single second.

Brenna had made a valiant effort to hold back the tears. But they came all the same. They rushed from her body, sweet relief given form. This didn't make things better – there wasn't much that could. But this made things lighter, if only for just a moment.

Every second felt like an eternity, so prolonged and somehow quietly important. Yet time also seemed to fly by, and Brenna started to feel guilty.

"I shouldn't keep you any longer," she muttered. The side of her face was still pressing into Greer's jacket. She kept her eyes shut tightly. Neither of them made a move to pull away, despite her words.

"It's okay," Greer simply replied.

So they sat awhile longer. And the silence continued to surround them, a comforting veil of friendship – and of something more, maybe, something that Brenna was still trying to understand.

There was something about this girl, something that made it easy to ask for and accept comfort. And while that felt good – so very, very good – it also felt ridiculously scary. Brenna knew she was a lot like her sister in that regard; it wasn't easy for them to ask, and it was even harder for them to receive.

An uneasiness filled her stomach – manifesting like butterflies, she'd say, if she had to pin the feeling down. Kieran was not fun, exactly, but he was what Brenna expected of herself. Greer was opposite in every way possible – and Brenna found herself wondering if she was strong enough to redefine almost her entire existence. Again.

"It's a long walk," Brenna finally whispered. She could have kicked herself for feeling the need to end the moment. It had been so easy, she could've gotten lost in it. And maybe that was why she spoke up. "Let me walk you back to your car."

As she pulled back, she hesitated to look Greer in the eye. Pity, that's probably what she would see. Or else a weird, unbearable kind of sympathy. But Brenna had to know. A part of her wanted to see, if only to test her own sense of judgment. Had this all been a mistake? Should she have handled her feelings on her own?

Brenna looked up. She felt residual wetness from her tears, caught in her eyelashes. She blinked, wondering how pathetic she must look to the other girl. She braced herself, held her breath…

And when Brenna caught sight of that bright smile, those sparkling eyes, that radiance – she wondered why she had ever expected anything else.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, to reprogram herself a bit.

"It's not that long of a walk, but I'd appreciate the company. Do you need a ride home?"

Brenna could've pinched herself; her smile was too wide, she just knew it.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

They walked side by side all the way back to the parking lot. Their shoulders kept bumping, and they would smile softly, shyly at the other every single time. But Greer was clearly following Brenna's lead, essentially keeping things subdued and silent between them. Brenna didn't know how to express her gratitude – how to explain that it was exactly what she needed, right then.

Sitting in the passenger seat of Greer's car, Brenna felt cold. They had been in contact ever since Greer had wrapped her arm around Brenna's shoulder, and now the eight inches of interior between them felt like a mile. Brenna pressed the palms of her hands against her thighs as they pulled out of the parking lot, willing herself not to beg for the connection to be back in place—

But just like that, Greer's hand was resting on top of hers. It was a simple gesture, but Brenna could have burst into tears at the instant relief she felt. She would have, actually, if Greer hadn't started to sing along to the latest Katy Perry song at the top of her lungs.

Still contemplating how to explain how important this all had been, Brenna found them back at her home all too soon. The car stopped, the radio was switched off, and Greer was turned slightly towards her in the driver's seat. And still, they were quiet.

Brenna took a deep, shuddering breath to steady herself. Then she turned, looked directly into that unwavering gaze, and said the only words worth saying.

"Thank you."

Greer smiled – of course she did.

"Anytime, Brenna."

She squeezed Brenna's hand softly, clearly waiting on the cue signifying that the moment was completely over.

Brenna found some bravery deep within herself, and she placed her right hand over Greer's, rubbing the smooth skin of the girl's wrist with her thumb.

And then she got the hell out of there.

What would Ford say? What would Kieran say?

But with every step towards her front porch, Brenna realized that she was already caring less and less about the answers to those questions.