When she fell asleep, she dreamt of her.

When she woke up, she looked at her.

When she inhaled, she smelled her.

When she exhaled, she knew this must be love.

Until that point, Santana had only loved one person in her life: herself. But, now, she wondered if she had really loved herself at all. Sure, she was slightly more narcissistic, egocentric, and self-absorbed than the average person, but she also hated herself at times. She would curse at herself for making a silly mistake on a test or punish herself for not running a fast enough mile by running an even faster one next time.

But she would never, ever condemn Brittany for anything. Yes, there was love, and then there was the human side to every relationship that caused all the complaints and the arguments and the fights. Anybody who had been in love would tell you that. For Santana, though, what she had with Brittany was love—and only love. Because no matter how much the situation warranted an argument, the love they shared would always outweigh any reason to argue. That was the problem with other couples. For them, anger would momentarily overshadow love, and a fight would ensue. As much as these couples would like to believe they were deeper in love than humanly possible, they were not. Because, sometimes, their love was not enough.

This was precisely what prevented Santana from exploding as Brittany spurted out irrational demand after irrational demand. Well, that and the way the sunshine crept in through Brittany's blinds, splattering just enough pale yellow light onto her face that made her subtle freckles even lighter, her glistening blue eyes even brighter, and her blonde hair even shinier than usual.

As they lay just inches apart, each of them on her side so they were facing each other, Santana felt Brittany's body heat float toward her, and she snuggled further into Brittany's fluffy bed in satisfaction. As Brittany continued to mumble her words, Santana reached out her right hand and tucked stray strands of blonde hair behind Brittany's left ear before caressing her cheek with her thumb, her palm partly tangled in Brittany's hair.

"Santana, are you even listening to me?" Brittany asked in frustration.

Santana smiled, then poked the tip of Brittany's nose gently. "No."

"Santana!"

"I'm sorry, but you're just too cute when you're angry." Besides, Santana knew she would get maybe just slightly annoyed at Brittany if she actually listened to what Brittany was complaining about, and she didn't want to be annoyed at Brittany—ever.

Brittany exaggeratedly huffed in annoyance and pretended to look away from Santana's adoring stare.

"Aww, Britt-Britt, are you still angry?" Santana inched in and brushed her nose against Brittany's. "You know you can't stay angry with me," Santana murmured into her neck as she continued nuzzling Brittany.

"Yes, I can," Brittany said with as much certainty as she could.

Santana pulled back to look into Brittany's eyes, having no doubt that she would soon be able to win her over again. "Really?" she asked coyly. "Even when I tell you how cute you are right now? Or how amazing last night was?"

Brittany's frown quivered, the corners of her lips urging to curl up while part of her tried with all her might to keep the frown in place.

Santana inwardly smiled at her success but was careful not to let Brittany know that she noticed her faltering frown. She liked to indulge her Britt-Britt. So Santana played along, pretending as though she still believed Brittany was mad at her. "Hmmm," she mused aloud. "How about if I do this?" She scooted closer to Brittany to place a soft but sure kiss on her lips.

Then she leaned back to see if it worked. Brittany finally gave in and broke into a grin. Santana grinned back. That was more like the Brittany she loved waking up to. "Good morning, beautiful."