Author's note:Hey! you there! i know i haven't written in awhile and I apologise for that. But recently I've decided to write something and show it to you guys. so here, i really do hope you like it.
Disclaimers: I own Nothing. Not the characters nor the companies nor the songs mentioned in the story. I only own the ideas swimming through my head. And regrettably, my mistakes.
Always
There were sheep, brown sheep, grazing upon a never ending meadow of purple grass, under the infinite rainbow coloured sky when she heard a ghastly sound beside her.
It irritated her to no end and forced Brittany to reach blindly over to eliminate the noise. She wanted to return to the paradise of beautifully, albeit oddly, coloured animals and landscape as quickly as she could.
The device was sitting on a mini bed-side cabinet when her angry hand located it, and as her fingers wound desperately around the cool metal, she woke up.
She woke up because the gnawing feeling at the pit of her stomach never failed her, especially when it's 2.45 am in the morning and especially when it was 'It's Me PickTheFugUp' calling her.
Santana calling her at the untimely woes of the morning woke her up more effectively then an approaching horde of elephants would. (No, really)
Brittany quickly propped herself up, leaning her weight onto her elbow and picked the call up.
"Oh Gosh," Santana sighed, quietly, as if hiding for and from someone nearby, "I'm in the bathroom," her usually strong voice trembled -infinitesimally - as she said.
And the blonde hears the tears all the way behind the phone; miles and miles away. She hears through the fake 'I'm totally fine' tone Santana had taken her whole life really, perfecting.
"What's wrong?," she asked, eyes wide and rapidly adjusting to the light from the living room she had forgotten to switch on. Then she decided it wasn't the right thing to say.
"I'm coming over stay there, don't move."
"B-Brittany?" She heard over the phone, just beginning to wipe the sleep away from her droopy eyes.
The blonde that had been deep in sleep just several seconds before. She shifted to look at the laser clock at her bed side, '2.45am'.
Well that was an odd timing. Little did she know, it would soon become the most common, odd timing ever to exist in her life.
"Mmm S'Ana, why're you s'ill awake at 'Ouu,fourry fai'(two forty five), r'memmmer my performance 'omorrow mornin-"
"Yeah, yeah of course I remembered," Santana replied, voice strained and heavy.
Brittany's brows lowered in confusion as the voice she so often heard was twisted and foreign. So painfully controlled.
Then there was that sniffle at the other end of the line.
Brittany sprung out of bed.
"What's wrong?"
"N-nothing much. I was just-"
"Don't try that with me it doesn't work," she accused, already making her way out of the house.
Santana kept quiet when Brittany announced, "I'm on my way."
-
Brittany found her best friend crouched right outside the door of her toilet, simply staring at limbo.
Santana's brows had dipped to meet at the tip of her nose and her brown eyes were glistening under the warm light she had installed outside the toilet.
Brittany's chest lurched toward the cowering figure and in no time, held her best friend in the tightest embrace she had ever given.
"I'm here," she mumbled in the mess of fragrant chocolate brown hair, "I'm here."
It was then that Santana begun to cry. She sobbed and gripped the cloth of Brittany's shirt, pulling the girl closer towards her whilst ranting and prattling non stop about how she had found her then boyfriend fooling around with another girl right outside the bar she frequented.
"Her whole boob was his hand," she lamented.
Whilst the brunette was attempting to mend her broken heart with furious lashes of words, Brittany had begun to rock them back and forth, softly humming a tune; gently stroking through her mane.
It took awhile for Santana to realise, but when she did, she fell silent then sunk into the blonde's comfort and pressed her face against slender shoulders.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little stars, how I wond-"
"Really? You gonna sing twinkle twinkle little stars?" Santana asked, voice mostly muffled by the blonde's shirt, when Brittany begun to belt out the kindergarten tune.
It wasn't an accusatory question and Brittany could feel the smile on her shoulder, that's when she knew Santana was better.
"Mm-hmm. DJ Brittany in the house, you don't get to pick the song."
"I thought you were trying to comfort me."
"By singing twinkle twinkle little stars."
"And DJs don't play twinkle twinkle little stars anyways."
"Well, time they do."
Santana heaved in defeat, pushing her forehead forwards and nudging the blonde. They share a smile that would've been eerily similar to passers by and a moment they'd relive over and over again.
"Hey Britt?"
"Hmm?"
"Thanks for coming over."
"... Always..."
After the line clicked off, Brittany begun to frantically scour her bedroom to clothe herself; eventually emerging from her apartment donning navy blue slacks and the lack of a winter jacket. It didn't matter to her that it was winter in New York, nor did it bother her that the cold was painfully frosty against her warm skin after leaving the area where the central heating covered; all that she bothered about, was getting into her car and getting to her best friend.
Brittany made several attempts to reach Santana again, but the line never got past three rings before it went dead. So she resorted to blind texting whilst breaking a few - or all actually - speeding limits. With the amount of offences she was committing, it would be the end of her ever driving if she got caught.
But she didn't care, because Santana never put down on Brittany, ever. Not when she was having a meeting, not when she was in the midst of sexting Evie (her current girlfriend of several years) and not even when she was in the toilet.
Her new tires screeched to a halt right outside Santana's apartment and that's exactly when the girl finally called Brittany back.
"Oh crap, I'm so sorry, my phone. It died," Santana rushed to explain with heavy breaths.
"What do you mean your phone died?" Brittany accused, turning the key to turn the engine off.
She moved to open the car door, all braced to race up the stairs to the fifth floor's seventh apartment, down from the first, when Santana said,
"No matter what, we'll be fine. Right?"
"I think we spend too much time in your room," Brittany complained, once again tucked under the thick maroon covers of her best friend's bed.
"Mmm, kinky," the Latina replied, voice husked from the long time spent not talking and pre occupied with the movie playing on the screen in front of them.
Brittany stilled, fingers clawing the covers of the bed as she tried to push 'the feeling' aside. That feeling; the one that gave her so many goosebumps and made her legs cross.
She swallowed, harder and harder each time and focused intently on the midget bookshelf Santana's television was sitting on. Beads of sweat were slowly making their way down her forehead and disappear halfway to her chin.
But no matter, she was kinda used to it.
"I'm gonna go-" she had begun to say, executing her escape plan, which wasn't much except the washroom.
"No, okay," Santana reached over and grabbed the girl's wrist.
Brittany looked back and realised the movie had been paused.
"Okay we'll go over to your place," then the Latina smiles so wide, her teeth shines and eyes glows and it kinda simmers 'the feeling' down a little, though a whole new gurgling feeling starts at the pit of her stomach.
Brittany's house was but two streets down from Santana's, however, she led them the longer way, relishing in the feeling of warm hands clutched protectively in hers.
She had always been the taller and stronger one. Santana was the brains, she was the brawns. They were kind of the perfect pair.
"The perfect pair" she smiled at that.
"What're you smiling at," her partner asked, looking at her curiously with her large brown eyes, whilst attempting to cross over a large log that had fallen over during the storm the night before.
"Oh nothing much," she replied, stopped completely in her tracks and looking to the sky, "just, the sky's beautiful."
It didn't take much afterward for Santana to look up towards the sky as well. Being the brains always benefitted Brittany as well. She settled down onto the log; making sure to pull her Cheerios skirt down to make sure her skin doesn't come in contact with the log, and then she tugged against Brittany's arm.
When Brittany turned back and eyed her questioningly, she smiled reassuringly.
"Come, sit here," she requested, patting on the space beside her on the log, pulling against Brittany's arm again.
But Brittany had a different plan in mind. She didn't want to sit next to Santana.
In a single motion of speeds that would strike all students in Mckinley High as impossible for 'Ditzy Blonde Brittany', yet one that wasn't very foreign to Santana at all; Brittany moved to get onto the log and then swung her long legs over to straddle Santana from behind.
It took Santana's breath away as Brittany allowed their bodies to fuse together, melding into each other and allowing the heat from their bodies chase away the hostile frost around them.
Brittany sighed and rested her chin onto Santana's right shoulder.
It was nice.
The silence, the wind that was so cold before now made into a dull ceiling fan and most of all, the body against hers. Brittany would rank this the best dream she had ever dreamt.
They were silent for a while, all could be heard was the crackling of brown leaves at they rolled across the grassy bed or the rustling of leaves, still green and intact; until Santana started feeling Brittany against her back, heaving heavy breaths. She prepared herself.
"W-what wo-would I do?"
Santana kept quiet, knowing already where this was headed; knowing full well she'd be reduced into a burbling gurgling mess as well.
"You'd be so far away. So-so fa-far away"
"..."
She focused on keeping her breaths as steady as she could.
Brittany allowed her hot tears to flow past her blushed cheeks down to dampen the uniform that wasn't hers.
"I hope," she lets out a heavy sigh, releasing some of the tension trapped within her chest, "I hope we stay frie-"
"Brittany, choose a shape," Santana ordered before standing up and with some balancing and wide blue eyes, she shifted so their positions were swapped. "Britt Britt, come on, choose a shape," she reiterated.
Brittany was clueless as to what Santana was doing and that was very rarely the case but she took a deep breath in to steady herself,
"A-any shape will do?"
"Yeah silly," the Latina took out a piece of tissue paper from the packet and gently wiped the moist from her best friend's face, "any shape."
"Mmm," she hummed, eyes scooting to the left as she gave the question deep thought, "i want The Sun"
"The sun?"
"Why the sun?"
"Because you can't find the sun at night."
"Mmm," Santana calibrated the girl's request, gnawing on her bottom lip as she searched the sky.
"No, we can," she said with finality before circling her right arm around the small of Brittany's waist and pulled them closer together.
Then, she reached over for Brittany's left hand and laced their fingers together; her palm against the back of her best friend's hand but allowing their pointer finger to be mobile.
She then directed Brittany's attention towards the dark canvas above them by stretching their connected arms towards the sky. Slowly, but surely, she showed Brittany exactly what she had seen.
It took Brittany a while to realise what they were doing, but when it dawned upon her, she smiled, "The sun?"
"Our sun."
Brittany nodded, staring at the stars silently, relishing the warmth of their interlaced hands. How they fitted so perfectly.
"Our sun," she echoed, chest choking up again as she realised, Santana had drawn The Sun within the night skies for her.
The door clicked shut as she pulled her weight backwards from preparing to sprint up any staircase that might be in her way. She pulled back and leaned against her car door.
"Wh-what'd 'you mean we'll be fine?" She asked, astonished and frankly a little hurt.
'Will we be fine?' Was a question Brittany would've never guessed would be asked in a context like this.
What could possibly come between how tight their bond was?
At least, that's what Brittany had thought. Apparently, one sided feelings were unnecessarily prevalent in relationships of many kinds these days. Even with a seemingly ageless one like theirs.
So yeah it hurt. It hurt so much she found herself gripping onto her phone as if it was her lifeline.
"Remember what we talked about the other day?" Santana asked.
"Which one?" They talked about a lot of things, which one was she referring too, they talked on many 'the other days' too. Though, there was one conversation she didn't particularly like. And it was one about Evie.
"I know you remember it," the latina's voice was soft when she said.
"Yeah..." Brittany breathed, staring sharply on the grey of the empty sidewalk; knuckles going white.
"Well... Evie's here..."
"Yeah, I guessed."
And suddenly, she knew why this call from Santana was different from the other 21 times she had called; she knew why she hated it so much.
"Sh-she asked me to marry her."
Because this was the last.
"I can't think properly now, so I need you to calm me down Brittany."
"..."
Brittany kept quiet and just as she had a long time before, she gulped and she gulped and she gulped as the tears blurred her vision and elongated the lights above her.
This time however, the drill hadn't worked. The tears spilt over her lower lids un-shamefully as she gathered herself in the presence of the only person she had loved her whole life.
Then, she begun to sing, the very last song she would ever sing to a Santana that had gotten her, deceptively strong, heart broken by somebody who hadn't deserved the wonderful that she was.
"Well, you only need the light when it's burning low,"
The blonde listened keenly to the breathing of her best friend.
"Only miss the sun when it starts to snow,"
She pulled her knees up to her chin and hugged herself.
"Only know you love her when you let her go.
Only know you've been high when your'e feeling low,"
Santana's breathing begun to steady and it's almost there now.
"Only hate the road when you're missing home.
Only know you love her when you let her go,"
She closed her eyes, she always thought It would be her in the end. Brittany and Santana till the end.
"And you let her go."
After Brittany had stopped singing, there was silence except rustling of lonely, dead leaves as they scattered across the floor. It reminded her so much of a certain night spent under the stars, on a damp log that probably would've been sawed into half and extricated from the neighborhood by now.
And she thought her and Santana's thoughts were in momentary equilibrium because the Latina wasn't happily thanking her and bouncing back to her fiancée to exude an exhilarating 'Yes'.
It almost seemed like she was waiting for Brittany to say something.
But the blonde couldn't bring herself to say anything. Partly because her mind was a blank and mainly because she was positively crying right now.
"Brittany you know, you weren't the only one," Santana whispered, "You weren't the only one."
When Brittany had realised the line had already gone dead, she was already engrossed with the sky. She hadn't really understood what Santana's very last words to her meant but it didn't really matter now did it?
Santana was getting engaged to be married. It was all over.
She ran the pad of her pointer finger on the windscreen of her car and she drew what she had seen in the chaos of the stars.
What she always saw, in the night sky littered with countless tiny sparkles.
Then, she got back into her car, started the engine and drove off, with the print in the shape of a sun at the top of her car's windscreen.
It has been a month since the night Brittany's red Mazda was parked right outside Santana's apartment block and all has been forgotten.
Almost.
"Quinn! Could you get that box taped up please?!" Brittany shouted to the other childhood best friend Santana and her shared.
Quinn, with her striking green eyes stared at Brittany sternly, crouching over a porcelain lamp only half wrapped in bubble wrap.
"I am, doing something 'ere. Ask Rach to get it."
"Rach! Please!"
"Alright! Alright! I will get it as long as you guys stop yelling at each other and have I neglected to tell you, I've made reservations at a restaurant for 7 pm, though I do remember NOT neglecting to tell you that earlier. Why does Santana have so many porcelain possessions anyways. Wouldn't they have all been smashed into smithereens from all her tantrums already anyways-"
"Rach," Quinn dragged the girl's nickname warningly.
Rachel went silent almost immediately as she looked up towards the blonde beauty and they shared a gaze.
Brittany smirked, knowing full well the nature of her friends' secret relationship and enjoying the very fact that they seemed to think she wasn't in on it.
"Oh well," she sighed dramatically whilst eying her watch, "Quinn has an appointment at 6.30, so after you seal that box up, Bridesmaid here will allow you little minions to go," she said, twirling a finger at the duo.
The shorter blonde stood up after wrapping the uncharacteristic porcelain lamp, very impeccably, with bubble wrap and surveyed the area.
"What about all the other stuff? Don't we have to get them done and out by tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Afternoon," Brittany replied and lifted her gaze to meet Quinn's, "perks of being a Bridesmaid I guess. They don't put 'maid' in a perfectly luxurious job for no reason."
"Yeah, no dispute about that."
The trio laughed and continued working on emptying the apartment for the bride's shower.
Before long, it was 7.10pm and the duo had left in a mess of apologies and good byes, leaving Brittany alone in Santana's empty apartment.
Brittany stood up from sitting on the balls of her feet for a long time and groaned as she arched her back and stretched the kinks out of her aching body.
She surveyed the apartment, remembering having spent so much time in it simply sitting on the maroon couch she had gotten Santana and clinking glasses and glasses of Moscato Rosa with not a care in the world.
She pressed the red button of doorbell as hard as she could as if any extra pressure would make it ring any louder and when no one came to open the door still, she begun pressing it vigorously.
"Really Brittany?" Santana asked with a sarcastic brow lifted as the door swung open.
Brittany stood at the corridor of her apartment, cradling a brown packet shaped in the form of a large glass bottle, grinning from ear to ear.
The sight alone was enough to take every trace of anger away from Santana. The Latina rolled her brown eyes with a laugh and stepped aside to allow access to the blonde.
Brittany bounded in like a happy puppy and headed straight for the couch.
There were already two wine glasses placed neatly on the table and Brittany looked at the blushing Santana deviously.
"You act like you didn't know."
"Yeah well," the shorter girl cleared a throat and straightened her back, having been caught red handed, "I always know."
She plopped herself on the couch next to Brittany and switched the movie she had already slotted into the player earlier on.
"Ooooh oooooh, you prepared a movie too?" Brittany turned dramatically to face Santana with her eyebrows arched towards her hairline and her eyes narrowed suspiciously, "You waited by the kitchen table for me to start pressing the door bell like a lunatic didn't you."
"Well you always start doing it," Santana shrugged and moved to tuck her damp hair behind her ear before leaning over to fill their cups with some wine.
"Well, we better get drunk today," Brittany announced, eyeing the new helix piercings on her bestfriend's ear. Santana never did anything on a whim and if she ever did consider it, she would never get a helix piercing. So as a matter of fact, this helix piercing was definitely something done on a whim and she only does whimsy things when her head's too full of something, or someone. "It seems Robert's gotta go."
Santana stalled mid-pour and turned to stare at Brittany with an expression of astonishment.
"Wh-what?"
"Oh don't act like you didn't know I would find out," Brittany stated proudly, taking on the role of filling their cups, "I know you better than you know yourself."
-
They're silent for about three quarters of the movie until the big reveal that every show had.
"I KNEW IT!" Santana shouted, pointing at the screen excitingly.
"How could you have guessed it?! IT'S RIDICULOUS!"
"They were such lesbians, it was so obvious they were working with each other. And in my mind Catherine Zeta Jones has always been a lesbian."
"Y'know she's married to a man right?"
"I said in my mind didn't i?"
"Yeah well you're such a lesbian," Brittany accused with the slip of her tongue.
This was followed with the choking of precious wine on Santana's side.
"Wh-what? What has this got to do with me."
"You're slipping up an awful lot today San'ana."
"Whatever," the girl said, rolling her eyes and refocusing on the movie at hand, "I'm not as much of a lesbian as you are."
Then, with the fast reflexes from years of countless dance classes, Brittany flipped in her seat to fit her knee between Santana's slightly parted legs. And mercilessly, she pushed her knee until it was pushing against something.
The result was the loud cracking of a wine glass as it broke into a million tiny splinters onto wooden floor.
Santana's eyes were screwed shut, mouth slightly agape as she tried to push herself away from the knee at her groin, but having settled so comfortably on the couch before, there wasn't much space left behind her to move.
"B-Brittany," she breathed, nails scratching against the knitted fabric of her seat.
The blonde, feeling bold in her inebriated mind, leaned towards the helix ear now turning red and ran her tongue along its arc.
"Mmmmm?" She mumbled, smirking silently.
"Br-Bri'anny, st-stop."
"Wrong answer," the girl said before gripping onto the backrest of the couch and nudging her knee harder onto the woman's center, enjoying the heat she could feel against her leg.
Santana's nails made another scratchy sound against the couch as she elicited a deep moan that went straight to Brittany's nether regions.
"N-no," the hostage pleaded between heavy breaths, "Robert and I haven't been..." She trailed off, "s-so I just might..."
Brittany's smirk fell as the turn of events unfolded before her.
"Shit," the blonde breathed, now feeling like it was harder to move away. "I-it's okay. Do it."
With that, suddenly, she wasn't the captor anymore.
Santana's hand moved like lightning, finding purchase at the very rim of Brittany's shorts before slowly sliding beneath them to massage at the skin underneath.
This time, the moan wasn't the latina's.
What odd should've described, was the very thing they were doing, but what odd described, very oddly, was that more than anyone else before Santana, Brittany had never felt so high in her life.
Brittany could feel the perspiration pooling on Santana's forehead as it rested against the apex of her shoulder and neck.
The grey sweat pants that Santana had been wearing was now sticking to Brittany's uncovered knee as the girl pushed herself against it again and again, every strong thrust accented with a huff of wine scented breath.
Every deep sound Santana elicited, made Brittany's down under ever more uncomfortable and suddenly her shorts felt as if they were three sizes too small.
Then, almost too soon, with Brittany holding the Latina against her, Santana pulled Brittany's body towards herself as she made a final pelvic motion downward and out, shaking as she nipped at Brittany's flesh at the very peak of her climax; making a muted exclaim of ecstasy.
They were both reduced to heavy laden breaths, both unable to move off the other as they struggled to fill their lungs in with much needed oxygen.
"You taste so sweet," Santana confessed, licking the spot where she had bitten.
"And you're such a lesbian," Brittany laughed against the girl's ear.
Santana swatted the girl's arm as she moved to settled back onto the couch comfortably still heaving, still covered with a layer of thin perspiration.
For the rest of the evening, nothing much was said. Not about what they had just done, not about the patch of dark grey on Santana's grey sweat pants and not about how, their fingers were still interlaced.
It was odd now, as she slowly took in the look of the apartment, it felt odd how empty it look. As if all the years of hers and Santana's adventures were packing up in these boxes and being sent away, even though it would only be momentarily.
And in a way, it did feel like that was the case, though Quinn and Rachel had taken quite sometime to convince her otherwise.
For if it was so, then why would Santana appoint her, fervently so, as her BridesMaid? Though she did do so through a highly capitalised text message.
There were still a load of boxes still untaped and fragile home wares still unprotected but after a whole day of back breaking labour, she decided that she had warranted a rest.
So, in the very act of reminiscence, she poured herself a huge cup of Moscato Rosa and plopped down onto the couch.
It was satisfying and extremely relaxing to feel the familiar fabric against her skin again, the couch as if having remembered the curves in her body.
"Well well Mr Maroon Couch, how you doin'" Brittany teased, sipping on her favourite drink.
"Have I given you too much work? To have you talking to a couch," someone said from behind, startling Brittany to the point where her drink spilt over, dampening the couch.
She hadn't had to turn around to know who it was. It was simple, the low voice that had a certain melodious tinge to it.
It was most certainly,
"Santana..." She breathed.
The couch dipped as the Latina fell onto the space beside her and slipped the very cup she was holding from between her fingers. An action so simply executed from years and years of habit.
Santana's fragrance wafted and tinkled Brittany's senses, giving her goosebumps.
"Hey, that's my cup!"
"No actually it's mine," Santana stated matter-of-factly over the rim of the glass before taking a sip, smirking like a Cheshire Cat,"you forgot to pack it didn't you?"
It caught Brittany in the headlights and she stalled to think of an answer.
Where in fact did she get the cup.
"Damn it... I did didn't I."
"You act like I wouldn't find out. I know you better than you know yourself," Santana used the girl's words against her.
Brittany, having remembered them breathed a laugh and shook her head.
"I definitely knew you better," she snatched the cup back, "I told you you were such a lesbian. Now you're getting married to a woman."
Santana laughed, but didn't say anything.
The sun was setting over the horizon, colouring the sky a dark orange and a tinge of pink.
"It's beautiful here isn't it?" Santana asked.
"Yeah, I bet Soon-To-Be-Mrs Santana would enjoy it very much," Brittany smiled bitterly, taking a sip of her diminishing cup of wonderful liquor to hide it.
"Do you?"
She heard and it caught her by surprise.
Santana was staring keenly at her, eyebrows knitted together in an expression Brittany couldn't quite place, as if she was waiting for something.
"I-I," Brittany searched her brain for something to say, until something else caught her attention.
It depended on a myriad of variables.
The position of the sun, the rays of which would hit the transparent plastic of the balcony door and exactly how dusty the plastic was.
But with all the variables added together perfectly. The time, the place, the drawing.
Just as fate had played a hand.
Right on the edge of the plastic door, was the shape of a sun drawn within the thin layer of dust that had collected on the surface of the balcony door.
"Santana how often do you clean your house?"
"Once every week? Why?"
"Do you clean the balcony door along with it?"
"Of course silly."
Brittany tore her gaze from the shape of the sun and looked back at Santana whose brilliant brown hues answered the exact question her heart was asking.
She wasn't alone in this, she hadn't ever been. Santana had loved Brittany as long as she had loved her. One had simply needed more time than the other to reach the same conclusion.
And that was what Santana had said and repeated that night.
"Why are you marrying Evie then?" She asked, sight getting hazy as tears begun pooling in her eyes.
There was silence at Santana's end and then the woman begun to shift around, contorting her body so that she was facing the blonde with her whole body.
Santana tapped against Brittany's knee, requesting for Brittany to mirror her stance.
Santana picked up the bottle of wine, wedged between the cushions of her couch and tipped it into her mouth, gulping and gulping and gulping until there wasn't much liquid left, then, she passed the bottle to Brittany, suppressing the large burp she needed to release.
"Take it, your turn," Santana wiggled a finger towards Brittany.
Doing as she was told, she drank as much as was left in the bottle until something hard clicked against her teeth and fell onto her lap.
And there it was, sitting on her left thigh, a diamond ring for all to see.
"I'm not marrying Evie Brittany."
"Bu-"
"No, shh, let me finish,' Santana butted in and took in a long, deep breath.
"Remember the night I called you about Evie? Remember you drove to my house without even wearing an outer coat? Remember you wanted to come up, but you decided not to? Remember you stood there in the cold, without an outer coat, singing to me?
Yeah I saw you.
I looked out my window and I saw you. I saw you standing there.
You weren't doing much," Santana smiled taking the ring from Brittany's lap,
"except leaning against your car," brown eyes seared into silent blue ones as she said,
"and holding my universe upon your shoulders.
How could I ever marry anyone except for you?"
Brittany's heart leaped so high it lodged in her throat, the very words she had always dreamt of hearing from the very person she had always dreamt of.
Except, this wasn't a dream, this was Santana.
"So what are you implying?" She asked, allowing hot tears to trail a path down her cheeks as she tilted her head to the right.
Santana rolled her eyes with the gentlest smile she had ever been seen giving anyone.
"Will you marry me silly."
Brittany jumped from her seat and lurched towards Santana. She circled her arms around Santana's neck and pushed their lips together, initiating the longest, fullest sweetest, most satisfying kiss they had ever had.
"Yes," she whispered in Santana's ear with the beat of their hearts pressed together, "Yes, a thousand times yes."
Brittany felt the strong arms holding her tighten around her waist and pulling her harder against the warmth of the other body,
"thank you Brittany."
"For you Santana, Always."
and that's that! Hope you enjoyed it as much as you did my absence. (: