Elevator
Brittany and Santana heard the elevator creak, and looked at each other worriedly.
"Britt, I told you we should have taken the stairs" said Santana with a cringe, leaning into the blonde subconsciously.
"To the 18th floor?" questioned Brittany softly with a small smile, "Santana if we decide to go here I'm not climbing that many stairs after dance classes just to get to our room."
The elevator creaked again.
"I'll carry you!" Santana squeaked out, burrowing into Brittany even further and hiding her face into her neck. 12, 13,…16…
"We're almost there," chuckled Brittany, "you're really cluster-phobic aren't you?" she soothed, running her fingers through her girlfriends hair as they finally reached their floor.
"Claustrophobic. Y-yea." She shivered, sighing with relief as the doors opened.
"That's what I said," Brittany replied, blinking owlishly, energy suddenly lurching into her like a rocket as she exclaimed,
"But don't worry! I'll cuddle you whenever we get into an elevator, and if we come to school here like I know you want to we'll schedule our classes so you never have to come alone! And if we get stuck in here…well, we can just make out until the people come to get us, alright?"
"I love you," Santana sighed happily as they stepped into the open hallway.
"But you hate teeny-tiny spaces. It's okay, baby. I know being in that closet you lived in at home for so long scared you."
"Britt- that's not exactly what that-
"Shh, it's okay! Oooh, let's go look at the room!"