Where the stars are upside down
Author notes: The original story was a mistaken post. Which is easy enough to do. Original reviewers, I really don't appreciate the nasty comments about me doing it "on purpose because I have unhealthy crack ships so I want to make it Quinntana." If you don't like Quinntana, don't read my Quinntana stories. If you like to make nasty comments with no basis because someone makes a mistake, I ask you to check yourself or at least get off guest to do it. As of now because this has become such a predominant thing, guest comments are no longer allowed to my stories.
For those of you who read and enjoy, especially those with positive or constructively critical comments, thank you very much for your support. here is the actual story.
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"Brittany! Oh, you're going down for that!"
Sputtering, Santana spat out a mouthful of ocean water she had taken into her mouth, shaking back her wet hair from her face as she struggled through the waves towards the other woman, arms outstretched with her fingers curved, long fingernails almost resembling claws. Brittany, much faster and more adept in the water than she, just grinned back at her over her shoulder, easily swimming with the tide rather than fighting against it, as Santana was attempting as she called back to her over her shoulder.
"Come on, Sanny, is that the best you can do?"
Unable to resist a challenge like that, Santana increased her efforts, frequently receiving a splash of salty water in her face from her own splashing in her attempts to reach Brittany. Always Brittany was beyond her reach, and not just by a little bit of a distance, and she grunted to herself out loud, growing frustrated by the other woman's longer legs and arms- not to mention her superiority with swimming. When she finally did catch up to Brittany, she was pretty sure that it was only because the blonde had taken pity and slowed down enough to allow her to. Giving a cry of triumph, Santana threw herself onto her back, wrapping her wet, sandy bare legs around her waist and her arms around her neck as she ruffled her already tangled hair, messing it up further.
"Got you! You will ALWAYS be defeated by Auntie Snixx!"
"Oh, is that who you are?" Brittany asked, her tone deceptively innocent, as it always was just before she delivered a burn. "I would think she would be much faster than that, since you've said she travels by express."
Santana elbowed her in the ribs, snickering in spite of her efforts to glare, and still clinging to her back, started to tickle Brittany's side. Brittany kept her composure, however; she simply reached back and tickled Santana's calf, causing the smaller woman to burst out into sputtering laughter as she loosened her grip, nearly falling off Brittany's back into the water.
"You're the ticklish one, honey," Brittany reminded her, a smile in her voice as much as on her face. "I don't know, girls this naughty might deserve getting dropped back into the water."
"Don't you DARE!" Santana gasped, giving a playful shriek and tightening her arms back around Brittany's neck as her giggling continued. She buried her face in between Brittany's shoulder blades, breathing in her sweaty, salty scent. "I'll pull your bottoms off."
"Yes, I'm sure you'd find that a terrible, disturbing sight," Brittany deadpanned as Santana giggled again, unable to deny this.
When Brittany started to slosh through the water towards the shore, Santana held on, enjoying the feeling of Brittany's hands holding her legs securely. She knew that no matter what her teasing, her wife would never let her fall.
Her WIFE. It was three days into their honeymoon, five days since they had been married, and still Santana could not think the word without a goofy grin coming over her face and dimples deeply furrowing in her cheeks. She had a wife, Brittany was her WIFE, and she was her wife as well. It was everything she would never have dared to hope for, only a few years ago, everything she would have never believed could really be true, but it was her life now, it was hers, forever, just as Brittany would be too.
She slid down off of Brittany's back as the blonde turned around to face her, combing a hand through Santana's sodden hair with a tenderness that Santana inwardly melted at. No one ever touched with the gentleness that Brittany always did; no one ever believed, except for Brittany, that Santana truly wanted it. But Brittany had always known without ever having to ask just what Santana wanted and needed, even when Santana herself didn't. She had always known how to make her tremble, inside and out, with a touch, and as Brittany's hands gently traced shapes over Santana's arms and down her back, warming her chilled skin with her touch, Santana knew exactly what she was drawing. Little hearts, etching her love for her into her skin.
Bahamas was amazing; it was beautiful and relaxing, and the resort that Sue had paid for was filled with every luxury they could have wanted. But for Santana, none of it was anything at all compared to the knowledge that she would be spending every day for the rest of her life with the woman she had loved for nearly half of her own.
"I think you already forgive me," Brittany whispered, her fingers tracing back over Santana's shoulders and neck before she rubbed her thumb gently over her lips. "Yep, I can see it right there in that smile. You totally forgive."
"Do not," Santana whispered back, striving but failing to put a scowl in her tone and a glare on her face. "I still owe you big."
"Or maybe I owe you?" Brittany smiled. Leaning in, her hand cupping Santana's face, she kissed her, gently at first, then more thoroughly, her tongue caressing against hers. It was nearly two full minutes before she pulled back, her free arm wrapped tightly around Santana's waist to pull her body flush against her own, her hand still cupping her face. "Will this do?"
"It's a start," Santana smiled, aware of every inch of bare skin against hers, of how quickly her chilled flesh had grown warm. "But I require more to really trust your word."
Brittany was more than happy to deliver. Several minutes of kissing- and a lot of wandering hands- later, Santana was breathless, flushed, and beaming, unable to stop smiling if she had tried. She rested her head against Brittany's shoulder, her heart racing, and soaked up the feeling of Brittany's hand, stroking gently over her spine, her lips kissing her forehead with a gentleness that was almost not even felt. From a slight distance away she could hear the faint beat of music from a family's portable CD player, and although Santana could not hear enough of the words to understand them or to recognize the song, she felt Brittany unconsciously begin to sway to its rhythm. Her wife never could hear music without wanting to dance, and so Santana swayed with her, letting herself be rocked, letting Brittany take the lead. When Brittany loosened her hold of her, spinning her out and then reeling her back into her arms, Santana laughed out loud, then went with it, dancing without any intended style as she held her wife's hands, swinging them back and forth and looking up into her bright eyes.
It was early evening, and the music had faded away, perhaps because the family packed up and left the area before dark. But still Santana and Brittany danced, to the memory of the rhythm that had played, or maybe to the timing of their own heartbeats. Sand drying to slickened skin, hair drying and frizzing out wildly about their heads, they danced, barely aware of the stars that began to shimmer over their heads, of the tide coming in and wetting their ankles, then their calves. They danced, until they were breathless with exertion and laughing and the overwhelming nature of their delight in each other, and only then did they back up, out of the reach of the incoming tide, and collapse on their sides on the sandy shore, arms wound around each other, foreheads touching as they caught their breath.
"You're my little star, Santana," Brittany whispered in her ear, her breath warm and sweet against her skin. "You're all the stars in the sky to me, all shiny and bright."
Santana didn't say anything back; her throat was choked too tight to manage speech. But if she had been capable of speaking then, she would have told Brittany, with every bit of sincerity she possessed, that if she were the stars, then Brittany was her sun- larger than life, and every bit as necessary for her survival. Instead, she simply lifted her chin and met her lips with hers, using her touch to convey to her everything that her words sometimes failed to deliver satisfactorily. She felt Brittany's hands, stroking down her back and over her arms, her legs entwining with hers as she pulled her closer, and she knew, as always, that Brittany understood.