It's the first Saturday of October when Brittany wakes up to Santana sitting on her bed.
"Morning, pretty girl," Santana says, running her hand over Brittany's hair.
"'Time is it," Brittany mumbles.
"Time for you to wake up," says Santana. "Your parents just took Ashley to her game. They said they'll be home in a few hours."
"Lay with me for a minute," says Brittany, her eyes still closed.
Santana kicks off her shoes and climbs over Brittany, who's sleeping on her stomach. Santana snuggles up close, wraps an arm around Brittany, and presses a kiss to her shoulder. Brittany seizes the fingers of Santana's right hand and kisses them. They lay quietly for a few minutes, breathing deeply.
"I was dreaming that Kurt and Rachel got married," says Brittany. "And we all had to stage a musical at their wedding. And then Rachel had a baby and it was Sunshine Corazon, except her mouth was like Kurt's. And Kurt told everybody that he'd just been pretending to be gay all this time."
Santana laughs mirthlessly. "Yeah, 'cause that's a real fun thing to pretend to be."
Brittany kisses her fingers again.
"You still wanna get all your stuff today?" Santana asks. "Or do you want me to let you sleep in? I can come over tomorrow instead."
"No," says Brittany, "I want to have our play date today."
"Okay, well then let's get up. Do you need to shower?"
Brittany nods.
"Then go take your shower and I'll make your bed."
"Teamwork," says Brittany, pumping her fist in the air.
Santana tickles her back until Brittany raises her head off the pillow, laughs, and moves off the bed. She pulls her blue t-shirt over her head and tosses it at Santana's face, laughing when it hits her, and walks into the bathroom.
"Not cool," says Santana, though she's grinning.
"Love you," Brittany says in response, then closes the bathroom door.
Santana listens to the shower running as she makes Brittany's bed. She fixes the sheets, pulls the duvet up and smoothes it out, and fluffs the pillows. She notices that Brittany's pillow smells like her shampoo, and it makes Santana smile and think of every good thing in the world.
Santana isn't in Brittany's bedroom when Brittany opens the bathroom door sometime later. She dries herself off, towels her hair, chooses a pair of jeans and a bright v-neck tee to wear to the store. Her hair hangs long and damp, dripping water onto her shoulders.
"San?" Brittany calls as she walks into the hallway.
"In the kitchen," Santana calls back.
Brittany heads down the stairs. "What are you doing?"
"Making you some eggs," Santana says over her shoulder. She's standing in front of the stove, facing away from Brittany, her hair pulled back in a messy bun and a few egg shells on the counter next to her.
Brittany strides across the kitchen, a smile on her face. She comes up behind Santana and rests her chin on her shoulder, watching as Santana scrambles eggs around in the pan.
"Somebody smells nice and clean," says Santana.
Brittany kisses the spot below Santana's left ear. "And somebody looks super cute today," she Brittany, plucking at Santana's loose cotton t-shirt, which falls gently over her torso until it meets her jeans.
Santana's cheeks color just a little bit. "Don't make me burn your eggs," she says.
Brittany shrugs but backs away and opens the fridge. "Orange juice?" she asks.
"Water," says San, looking up from the pan.
"Sure thang," says Brittany, pulling two glasses down from the cabinet. She fills one with orange juice for herself, then fills the other with crushed ice and water, making sure the ice fills the cup just a little bit, the way Santana likes.
"Thanks," says Santana, taking the water from her. "You might want to go look for Tubbs. He snuck out when I came in."
"More like you probably tricked him into going out."
"How dare you suggest something like that," Santana says. "I adore that cat."
Brittany rolls her eyes and goes outside to find Lord Tubbington. When she comes back in, there's a full plate of scrambled eggs waiting for her on the counter, with a heart-shaped stream of ketchup on top of the eggs. Brittany sits down, looks up at Santana across the counter from her, and grins. Santana smiles back tenderly.
On the drive to Target, they talk about anything and everything.
"Can't believe your parents are spending another full Saturday at Ash's games," Santana says. "Like, what's the point? Do the coaches think that all these girls are gonna play world-cup soccer one day? If I was your parents, I'd take a flask to the field."
"Pretty sure my dad does that," says Brittany.
"Or I'd take a couple of hits beforehand. That'd make everything way better."
"We still have to get Lord Tubbington high. It's on my bucket list."
"One of these days," Santana promises.
Brittany switches the radio station. She tells Santana about how her family might go skiing in January. Santana tells Brittany about the latest drama with her mom's sisters. They talk about the glee kids and Quinn.
Santana pulls into the Target parking lot and maneuvers her car into a spot. "Alright," she says, turning the car off and opening her door, "you ready to get this campaign going?"
"So ready," says Brittany.
They walk around Target, gathering the items Santana put on their list, which she titled "Shit We Need for Britt's Ascension to Power." Brittany loves that Santana always makes lists and always titles them. Brittany wanders up and down the aisles excitedly, considering her options, while Santana pushes the cart and offers her opinions. They get posters, sticky tack, markers, plain white shirts to decorate….
They're heading toward the check-out when they come upon the greeting cards section. Santana pauses; her eyes light up.
"What?" says Brittany.
"You know what we haven't done in a while? Sent out anonymous cards."
Brittany grins. "Let's do it."
They spend a good twenty minutes in the card aisles, picking out the weirdest and silliest cards they can find. They choose a "For a special young man on his 13th birthday" card to send to Rachel; for Mercedes, a "Congratulations on your bar mitzfah" card; for Puck, a "Your First Communion is such a special day" card; they can't stop laughing as they imagine the confusion the cards will cause when the glee kids receive them from people named "Uncle Hollis and Aunt Fifi" or "Sister Clara." Santana's shoulders are shaking as she giggles silently, potential messages running through her mind; Brittany's watching her with a huge smile on her face.
They buy the campaign supplies, the cards, and a box of Dots that Santana slips into the cart at the last second.
"Here," she says, pulling the Dots out of one of the bags and handing them to Brittany. "For my favorite."
Brittany pops the Dots into her mouth as they ride home, still laughing about the greeting cards they bought. They turn onto a main highway - one of those roads that stretches on for a few miles - and Santana places her right hand over the console, palm up. Brittany takes hold of it. Santana laces their fingers together. They hold hands the whole ride home.
Brittany thinks the posters are turning out great. Her fingertips are covered with marker stains and there's some paint on her thumb, but she's pleased with what she and Santana have created so far. Santana keeps pausing in the middle of working to jot down ideas she has for the campaign or for Brittany's debate, and Brittany watches her with an ache in her chest.
"I'm so proud of you for running," says Santana as she adds to their list of ideas. "You're gonna make so much great shit happen."
"I hope everybody takes me seriously," says Brittany.
"What?" says Santana, glancing up from the notepad. "Britt. Why wouldn't they?"
Brittany shrugs. "You know I'm not the brightest duck in the bathtub."
Santana frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. "Look, I know our school might be full of Karofsky-esque douchebags, but they can still recognize a real leader when they pull their heads out of their asses for long enough to see one. You're going to be a real game-changer. You've got amazing ideas and they're coming from the right place."
Brittany nods her head. "Yeah."
"Britt." Santana waits for Brittany to make eye contact with her. "Really. You're amazing. Anybody can see that."
Brittany smiles.
"Do you believe me?" Santana presses. "Or do I have to go all Lima Heights on somebody to prove it to you?"
"Please don't," Britt laughs. "I believe you."
Santana steps closer and gently brushes Brittany's cheek. "Good," she says. "You better."
Brittany makes them Kraft macaroni and cheese. She swirls the milk, the butter, the cheese sauce and the noodles around the pot. It reminds her of childhood play dates with Santana, and how Santana always got so excited to eat the fun macaroni shapes because her mom would never buy them for her.
"I wish you could stay over tonight," Brittany says.
"Me too," says Santana. She sits at the counter and examines her fingernails. "God knows I don't give a damn about Uncle Junot's birthday dinner."
Brittany looks at her. "Yes you do. You love seeing your family."
Santana rolls her eyes. "I don't know that I'd use the word 'love.'"
"Plus you haven't been there in like, forever. Maybe that's why your Lima Heights-ness has been failing you lately," Brittany teases.
"Shut up," Santana says, pretending to be annoyed, though the corners of her mouth give her away. "Pretty sure the LHA factor hasn't been working out for me because somebody made me get all 'in touch with my feelings.'"
Brittany beams as she divides the macaroni between two bowls. "Yeah, and it's like the best thing ever."
"For you," says Santana.
"For everyone," says Brittany, handing Santana's macaroni to her. She tugs on a piece of Santana's long dark hair, then rests a hand on Santana's chest. "It's a waste to keep that beautiful heart hidden in there. I think the whole world should know it."
Santana's breath catches. Brittany feels the steady beat of Santana's heart underneath her hand. They lock eyes, and then Santana raises herself off her stool and kisses Brittany lightly.
"Sorry," Santana says, pulling back immediately and looking away from Brittany. "I didn't mean – I know we're still figuring stuff out—"
"Maybe this is part of figuring it out?" Brittany suggests.
Santana looks at her hopefully. Her eyes search Brittany's eyes.
"I just…" Santana whispers, "I just don't know what's okay and what's not okay right now."
Brittany sweeps a hand across Santana's forehead, down the side of her face, under her jaw. "Well," she says carefully, "lucky for you, I'm going to be the next McKinley High senior class president, so I'm really good at leading people in the right direction."
Santana laughs shakily. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," says Brittany. "So…I think you should just do what feels right. Don't think about it so much."
Santana smoothes back Brittany's hair. She traces a finger down Brittany's ear. "Being around you feels right," she says. "No matter what I'm doing."
Brittany pulls Santana into her. She kisses her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids, her mouth. She kisses Santana's mouth over and over and over and says, "So what's there to figure out?"
Later that night, Brittany puts on her pajamas, washes her face, brushes her teeth, and turns off the light. She pulls her covers down and gets into bed. Something rustles under her back. She feels around and finds a piece of paper. She uses the light from her phone to look at it.
In Santana's handwriting, slightly smudged from where her left hand moved across the paper, it says, "If I got to spend every day for the rest of my life running errands and making posters with you, I'd be the luckiest girl in the whole damn world. I love you more than anything. You are the brightest, prettiest, most amazing duck in the bath tub. Xoxoxo San."
Brittany's stomach flutters and her heart feels big. She wonders when Santana wrote this note and hid it in her bed. She opens a new text message and writes:
Just found your note. You're adorable and also super cheesy…like cheesier than that macaroni :-).
A minute later, Santana responds: Haha, yeah. Who knew? Sweet dreams baby.
I love you, Brittany writes.
Love you back, Santana replies.
Brittany smiles, sets her phone on the nightstand, and rolls over to go to sleep. The pillow next to hers smells like Santana. She breathes in the scent and it fills up her lungs, fills up her heart.