A/N: Set in the same universe as Monday Morning and Trains on train tracks (Thanks for all the comments!). Hope you like this a little as well; don´t forget to spread some love and leave a comment. *:-)
BTW why is there no genre called ´happiness´ or ´fluff´? ^^
On the Fifth Floor
It´s days like today that you hate living on the fifth floor. In a building with no elevator.
It was one of the reasons you didn´t want to take the apartment initially, but well, sometimes you don´t have a choice, do you?
It´s 7:47 pm when you unlock the front door and step into the dark hallway. You don´t even bother to check the mailbox, it´s probably already been emptied.
Only twelve days till Christmas.
This year it´s just going to be you and her.
Maybe Rachel will drop by to eat dinner with you; maybe, most likely not.
You shake the snow out of your hair and pull of your woolen hat, the one you knitted yourself (to Santana´s great amusement).
You drag yourself up the stairs, glad that the day is over, that it´s Friday and you can spend the next two days attached to your girlfriend.
When you reach the third floor you notice it. You really hope that the delicious smell is coming from your apartment and not from 4D.
By the time you reach your floor (7:49 pm) you´re not nearly as cold as you were just two minutes ago. The snow on your coat has melted and your cheeks are warm.
"Jackpot," you say quietly to yourself when you enter your apartment and the smell intensifies.
You check your watch when you close and lock the door, 7:50 pm. You´re a little surprised Santana´s home so early. The last few weeks she´s always stayed longer in the office, working overtime and you have the slight suspicion (hope) that it might have something to do with Christmas coming up and your present.
She´s showered already which probably means she´s been on her bi-weekly run earlier tonight. You´re a little disappointed you missed shower time and you know you´re pouting as you pull off your scarf and gloves.
You hear her humming along with the song on the radio while she stirs something in one of the pots on the stove. She´s wearing one of your old cardigans, the one with the reindeers on it, which looks kind of ridiculous and cute at the same time. It´s moments like these that you feel like you could burst with affection for her.
The kitchen is an organized mess and you know you´ll be the one cleaning it up later. Not because she expects you to, but because you want to, because that´s how you work. You´ll take the left-over´s (just like her grandma Santana always tends to make too much) to work on Monday if only to make Thomas, who you share your office with, jealous by showing off how perfect your girlfriend is.
"Smells delicious, Sweetie," you say when you hug her from behind. She´s warm and soft and you love coming home to her.
"Me or the food?" She asks leaning back against you, one hand touching your forearm.
"Both," you grin, "and both looks incredibly good. You even look good enough to eat."
"God, you´re so lame," Santana says pushing you away with her hip. "Go shower, dinner will be ready in fifteen."
"Aye, aye captain!" You say before placing a kiss on her cheek. She´s smiling and rolling her eyes at you, or maybe herself, you´re not sure, but you find it all kinds of adorable.
You´re watching her as you listen to the message on your answering machine (7:55 pm); Rachel reminding you again that her Christmas play is tomorrow and that she´s got you front row tickets and expects both of you to be there. It had taken you nearly a week to get Santana to agree to go with you.
She´s already taken care of the bills for this month you notice as you flick through the mail. There´s a letter for you from Lima, but you decide to open it later. Right now all you want to do is spend the rest of the day with Santana and in more comfortable clothes.
Your eyes stay on her. You know that she always gets a little emotional when she´s in the kitchen cooking by following one of her grandma´s recipes. Because even though her abuela still hasn´t come around, still isn´t answering her calls or letters, doesn´t mean that Santana loves her any less. It breaks your heart, but makes you love her even more. You hope that someday the older Misses Lopez will get over herself, before it´s too late. For her sake and for the sake of your girlfriend.
You delete Rachel´s message, leaving your keys next to the phone. Santana´s running shoes are lying forgotten in a small puddle of water in the hall. You role your eyes as you put them away and hang up your coat.
The apartment is small; one bedroom, a tiny bathroom with only a shower (no tub, which you seriously hate on some days), and a living-eating-cooking-working area. It´s not much, but it´s enough for now. Santana´s bike is standing near the front door, next to it a neat pile of boxes containing all of your shoes.
It´s the first and so far only place you´ve shared with Santana.
It´s home.
The walls are filled with photographs, with memories and love.
Sometimes you wonder what it would be like without her. Coming home to an empty place, no dinner waiting for you, no music playing, no stumbling over Santana´s boots – you´re glad that reality is different.
"Babe, hurry up. I´m not going to wait for you! I´m fucking starving!" Santana shouts (8:07 pm) when she sees you're still not in the shower.
You blow her a kiss and finally step into the bathroom.
You watch her from the hall.
Her hair´s in a ponytail, the sleeves of the cardigan rolled up to her elbows.
She´s singing along with the song on the radio.
When she catches your eyes she motions for you to come closer.
It´s like the call of a siren.
Her eyes are bright; you see happiness and love.
She takes your breath away, with a smile and with a kiss.
It´s how she got you to move into an apartment on the fifth floor. With no elevator.
8:21 pm.
"I missed you," you tell her wrapped in a sweatshirt that smells like your girlfriend.
A few years ago she would´ve just rolled her eyes and reminded you that you went barely ten hours without seeing her, but now she just accepts it with a smile and even gives you kiss. You like to believe it means she´s missed you too.
It´s 8:30 pm when you finally sit down to eat dinner.
There´s a glass of wine for you on the table and Santana´s nursing a beer that´s already half empty.
She keeps talking about rating agencies and financial crises and politics and normally you love it when she´s talking all smartly but today your brain has checked out as soon as you stepped into the apartment and you´re really done thinking for the night.
It takes her five minutes to realize that you´re not listening to her, and it took you all of those five minutes to figure out that she´s not wearing a bra. And well, you´re kinda stuck on that.
"Can we at least finish eating?" She asks with a sigh, but there´s a smile on her face.
The dishes are done, the kitchen is clean, you´ve had a quickie on the dining table and it´s 9:35 pm.
It´s Friday, but you won´t go out. The week has been long and if you´re honest spending the night on the couch with Santana sounds a lot more appealing than going to a bar or a club with Blaine. You´re going to see him tomorrow anyway since Rachel got him a ticket as well.
You know that it´s times like this, when the holidays are almost there, that she misses her grandmother the most. But you´re her family now and when she smiles at you while you slowly dance in your living room to Bing Crosby, you´re certain that you´re enough, that what you have is enough.
On days like today there´s no doubt in your mind that you´ll spend the rest of your life with Santana (whether she wants to or not).
Santana´s brushing her teeth with her eyes closed. It´s a sure sign that she´s really tired. Normally she likes to flirt with you through the mirror, winking at you, a smile playing on her lips. The duck clock (a gift from Brittany) tells you that it´s 11:25 pm (and that you should quack if you´re happy).
Santana finishes before you. Now her eyes find yours and she quacks once before leaving the room with a smile on her face. You shake your head, but call after her that you´re happy too.
It´s one of the silly things you do every night, and every morning.
It´s 11:45 pm when you turn off the light on your bedside table.
You can tell that Santana is already on her way to dreamland.
You found a home, on the fifth floor, with Santana.
A day spent loving her.
You can´t wait for tomorrow to come.
When you fall asleep (11:55 pm), your arm is wrapped tightly around her, keeping her close.