You wake up to the sound of pellets of water colliding with glass. You think it's the shower.
Your hand, that had previously found purchase beneath the dead weight of your body, reaches out only to be met with cold air and cold sheets.
You frown involuntarily. Face still smothered in the pillow.
It's then you realize the sound of rain is really the sound of the shower. You groan inwardly. It's too early.
Your eyes close, and you drift off to sleep, not before you feel a pair of warm lips graze your forehead for a split second. I love you. You're not sure who says it. Then, whoosh.
Your forehead is left bare, and cold. Tingling slightly in the aftermath of the briefest kiss in the history of your life.
You wake up for the second time today, wondering whether or not it really is the second time today.
You like to think so.
Those milliseconds were worth it.
You manage to make it out of bed this time around. You're in a daze as you make your way to the bathroom and shed yourself of your clothes, or at least what you consider clothes, as you enter the shower.
For the second time today, you're hearing water pellets.
It's then you realize you're going to be running on autopilot.
You miss the way tan hands snake around your waist surprising you in the shower.
You miss the way you sometimes don't have to move your hands at all to get clean.
You miss the way sometimes, it happens twice.
Your hand drifts low and stops just below your belly button. No. Not today. Not on this day.
It's 8.16 by the time autopilot navigated you out the shower into your standard pencil skirt, blouse, and killer heels. Glasses perched on your head, thermos in hand, and notepad in bag; you're ready to attack the day.
Albeit without your partner in crime.
You're slightly deflated at the revelation.
It's 9.03 when your heels hit the marble tiling in the reception of your building.
Hey's are thrown your way and you manage to quirk your lips up into a smile and nod.
You're good at that. Only one person in the world knows your real smile and none of them are on the floor right now.
The lift doors slide shut but just before they do, a tan hand slides in and stops it.
You know you're hoping it's who it's not. You're right.
She stops on the 42nd floor. 5 more to go.
You make it through the morning without much fuss. You're meant to be writing, scrap that, finishing up a piece.
You look down and note that you should probably stop doodling "S", and heart shapes, and dolphins, and unicorns and… just stop.
There's a knock at your office door. Come in.
It's Quinn. She wants to invite you to lunch. You have nothing else to do so you go.
You plaster on your work smile and head off with her. She's sweet, smart, good company. Just not the company you want today.
On the way to lunch, you spy a quirky store tucked away between Gap and Nike.
You make a mental note to stop on the way back from lunch.
You're at your offices' local - General Cho's. You love it here.
Quinn orders the usual; sweet and sour chicken, Singapore fried noodles, pork and spinach dumplings, roast pork, and sizzling beef.
You secretly love the fact that today; autopilot really means autopilot. Even though you shouldn't. Not today.
Lunch is as uneventful as your morning.
Quinn talks you through her honeymoon. You wonder if that's something you'll get to experience.
She tells you how Sam serenades her on the beach their first night. You wonder if that's something she'll ever do for you.
She tells you how he was so cheesy that first night with the roses and candles. You wonder if she'd be cheesy that way too.
You hope you do, you hope she will, and you hope she would be.
She does, she will, and she is.
You just don't know it yet.
On the way back from lunch you send Quinn back first and pop into the store you made a mental note of earlier.
The minute you step in there's an overwhelming sense of foreshadowing. You have no idea what for.
The tall shorthaired blonde lady in a tracksuit behind the till looks at you with a scowl. You ignore her.
Your eye is immediately drawn to the jewelry cabinets. You peruse the collections.
Necklaces, bracelets, rings adorn plastic necks, hands and fingers.
You need to get something. You do. You don't know what.
You rub your temples with your fingers. Like that's gonna help. It does.
As you look down you spot it. You know it. In your heart, you know this is it. This will break the barriers.
You make a mental note to ring her aunt, there's just one more thing you'll need. Scrap that, now you need two. One is on your hand. Thank god for that.
You leave the store feeling like a million bucks.
Something you shouldn't considering you feel more like that's how much you just spent.
It was worth every penny.
You know it.
You're getting more and more excited for dinner as each second passes.
You're late.
It's 2.26 and you're late.
You break into a light jog the minute the lifts open. It doesn't matter; you're still late.
You stop by your office and allow yourself a couple seconds to place the gift carefully and secretly into the bottom drawer of your desk.
You're out the office before you know it and in Shuesters' in what you feel like is record time.
The meeting goes slow.
Slower than usual.
Slower than slow.
It's because she's not beside you.
She's on assignment you remember.
You're glad autopilot kicked in again the minute you left the store.
"Have you got the piece Pierce?" You remember how to talk just in time.
"It's on file, I'll email it to you after the meeting."
He nods, and smiles earnestly. You're given another assignment. You're glad for it. You get to work with your partner again.
The real smile makes an appearance for the second time today as your mind drifts to her. The first time, was in the store. Again, it's because of her.
'Whoosh'. You've sent the email you said you would.
You smile to yourself at the thought of your next project.
You allow yourself to look up at the desk that sits with its back against yours. The nameplate propped on the end. You read the name and smile for a third time.
The day has definitely taken a turn for the better.
It's 5.59 when you decide you can leave.
You'd made good headway on your new case. You researched all afternoon and have pulled up a few good leads.
You've made a copy of your notes and put it on the other desk that occupies your room, a yellow sticky note on top. 'Look up - B' is scribbled in your best handwriting.
You smile at the note as you leave the office.
As you leave the office, you catch the news on the main floor.
There's a hold up at the bank.
You sigh.
She's there. You know she's there. In fact, if you squint enough, you see her. There.
You're proud. You know she's taking care of business. It's for the good of the world.
But there's a small part of you; an important part of you, that's inwardly crushed. Because you're scared for her. You're scared for yourself. And you know she's going to be late tonight.
You make it a point to stop at The Watering Hole. The after hours local everyone in your office congregates at.
You love it here. You'd love it more if she were here. Especially tonight. But you know she's going to be late, so you share one with Quinn, Sam, and Mercedes.
45 minutes later is when you decide you better make your way back to her place and start dinner. You hope that's enough time to prepare everything you planned before she gets home.
You lay out the candles. 12 in total. 12 for every month you've spent in love with her.
You're such a sap it hurts.
For the third time today you're hearing those pellets of water. For the second time today, they're falling on you.
You're refreshed, clean, smelling just how she loves you. Cocoa butter coats your skin. Drops of Jasmine sprinkled on your hot spots. The hot spots you know she'll be setting off later.
The timer goes in the kitchen.
You slip your underwear on. It's not really sexy but you know it'll be sexy to her. When she gets to them. The pastel yellow ones, with ducks. Ducks holding umbrellas.
You make more effort with your bra. Black. Lace. Hot. Total contradiction to your underwear. You know you've made the right decision.
You pull her favorite black lace slip over your head and make your way to the kitchen.
Dinner is ready.
It has been for 52 minutes. Since 9.03.
It's still on the table. The candles are still lit. The fire flickering in the darkness of the lounge. The only light her apartment holds now.
You check the clock. It's 10.46.
You're on the couch. Still in the sexy black dress you bought last week in preparation for tonight.
You sigh. Getting up, you pour yourself your third glass of wine. You're wondering if you're ever going to get a chance to give her the box. The box that sits next to the bottle that you've just finished.
You lay back down. Resigned to the fact you might not see her at all today.
You hate that.
You kind of hate that you hate that.
There's a presence in the apartment. You know that but you're asleep. That doesn't change the fact you know. It moves with such grace and fluidity as it manipulates the molecules in the living space.
You know its her. Even though you're asleep.
You know everything about her.
Your senses pick up on the faint scent of coconut and cinnamon that follows here wherever she goes.
Her presence feels bigger tonight, you're not sure why.
Shuffling coming from the bedroom wakes you up.
You rub your eyes gently as your eyes adjust to new light that floods the apartment.
There are more candles than you remember. If you could count like her, you would know that there's 401. 401, for every day that she's loved you.
But you can't, so you don't.
You couldn't be more confused.
Before you know it you feel soft pads that belong to her brushing your hair to the side of your face. Gently tucking the loose strands behind your ears.
"Your hair looks beautiful." She all but whispers. A small smile dares to dance across her lips.
"I'm sorry I'm late. I had, stuff to take care of." She looks so apologetic, it hurts.
You take a side-glance at the clock that hangs in the kitchen. 11.59.
"You're right on time." You say with a smile. Losing all resolve you ever had to pretend to be mildly annoyed. You take her hand in yours and kiss every knuckle. You make sure she knows just how happy you are that it is in fact still today. When you're done, you know she got you. She understood every, single, kiss.
You sit up. The box.
"Happy Anniversary Britt. I'm so sorry we didn't get to eat, and I made you stay up and wait, and you had all this plan-"
Your lips connect with hers before she gets a chance to say anything more.
It's brief. Not as brief as the one you think you got this morning, but brief enough that you know you can't get lost in it. That you'll be able to get the next set of words out.
"I got you something."
You look past her eyes and down to the box on the table that she's sitting right next to.
Only then do you realize she's still in her 'work' clothes. You love it. The way it hugs her curves in all the right places. You love that you're gonna get to take it off her tonight, in the knowledge that you're the only one that will ever get to do that.
You get a power trip out of it.
She picks the box up idly between her middle finger and thumb.
She eyes it curiously. Her eyes dancing between the box and yours.
"You can open it you know." You say with a smirk.
One perfectly shaped eyebrow lifts along with a corner of her lips. But furrow just as quick.
"You shouldn't have babe."
"Hey it's our anniversary. Of course I did." Your hands find her knees, sliding upwards, resting high on her thighs.
She smiles at this.
She breathes out - "one year" and smiles. You brush a finger over her brow and smooth the creases.
'Pop'
Her brow furrows and you're worried she doesn't get it.
Before you can move to say or do anything, she turns on her megawatt smile. You shouldn't have worried.
It's not actually a real megawatt smile. But it's the smile you know she reserves for you. And you like to think it's her Brittany smile. The smile that conveys everything she feels for you in the 17 muscles it takes for her to smile. You know every muscle is twitching in honesty.
While you've been thinking this, her lips have attached to yours. Her right hand, not holding the box has snaked round to the back of your neck. Idly playing with the hairs on it.
She tells you she loves it.
She pulls away and rests her forehead against yours. Right where you may or may not have been kissed this morning. You're still not sure.
You look down and take the necklace out the box.
"Can I?"
Her deep chocolate eyes look into yours, and say a silent yes.
You put the chain round her neck and smile like you've never smiled before.
She touches each pendant.
Your birthstone.
The cross.
Your ring. Her thumb glides over the etchings on the inside of it - S 3 B.
There's a fourth noose with no pendant attached.
As she holds on to that one you whisper "that's on its way."
"Now I can protect you everywhere I go."
You smile at the admission and realize your hands have made it back onto her thighs.
Your knees are touching and there's a fire growing in the pit of your stomach.
It's not from hunger. Or rather it's from a hunger for something else.
She catches the glint in your eye.
She sees how they turn a shade darker.
She knows what you want, and she knows she's going to give it to you because she wants it just as much.
She makes a motion to stand but before she does you playfully steal a chaste kiss. You jump out of reach, even though you know she's given you the advantage.
You jump gracefully over the couch.
You mouth come get me.
She smirks.
"You're mine Pierce."
You don't know how long your advantage lasts but before you know it her hands are wrapped around your waist. Her front pressing into your back squeezing out all the gaps between your bodies. Not that any exist. You are a perfect fit.
Her right hand sweeps your hair over your shoulder as she presses her lips into your neck.
You tilt your head to the side giving her room to work.
You raise your hands and slide your fingers through her hair. A moan escapes your lips.
She works her way to your earlobe and down your jawline.
You can feel the smile on her lips.
She slides her hands down over your thighs and rakes her fingers along them on the way up. Slowly bringing the hem of your dress up with her hands.
You spin in her arms and your lips meet hers with expert precision. You take her bottom lip in hers as your teeth rake against it.
"Bedroom. Now." You mumble against her lips.
You feel her smile against you and attempt a nod.
Her hands have made their way onto the top of your ass and you feel her fingers dragging over you as she bunches your dress up.
You walk yourselves backwards towards her room. Praying not to hit any candles.
You miss all 401 candles but you manage the to find the door frame with her head and a knock.
"Oops" You smile against her.
"Please, I've had a wall collapse on me this evening already, that was nothing." She says playfully, not without her trademark smirk.
Her hands have managed to bunch your dress at your hips. You wonder how you hadn't noticed the burning touch of her knuckles against your skin. You guess you have now.
She asks the question with a tap of her finger and you're nodding into her neck before the second tap.
Leaning backwards, you only allow enough room for the dress to slide up between you. That's all the space you can handle.
Before she has a chance to remove it all the way over yours arms you attach your lips to her neck. Just as quickly, your hands find her hips.
Her breath hitches at the contact. She lets out a moan from the deep recesses of her heart as you lick at that spot. The spot that can get her to do anything.
You slip one hand down past her hip, over her ass and under her thigh.
Lifting and pulling it around your back as you slide one thigh between her legs.
Another moan.
Another sign of encouragement.
You can't help that stupid smile you get as you press your lips, firmly and with more passion this time, against hers.
You're telling her everything she ever needs to hear.
One of her hands has found its way to cup your cheek, and her thumb strokes just under your eye. Another rests at the small of your back, slowly inching its way lower until fingertips hit the waistband of your underwear.
You work your lips against her jaw and down her neck past that spot again. You feel her pulse beating out of her veins.
Your lips hit material. The material you've been longing to rip off her from the minute your eyes registered they were on her.
You pull away and she groans in discontent. Panting.
The blue of the shirt is unmistakable. It's that blue. The blue of your eyes as she's told you.
Your hands slide up from her hips, tracing up steely defined abs. Your fingers spread against them outlining the definition memorized since the first time you lay your hands on her.
She doesn't allow you to break her stare.
You couldn't even if you wanted to. You are completely enamored by the mocha brown eyes that see right into your soul.
You allow your hands to work their way up to the underside of her breasts, cupping each one and slowly massaging.
One of your hands slides up. Fingertips curling at the hem of the collar.
The other hand traces the outline of the 'S' that emblazens her chest. The golden yellow S encased in the inverted pentagon.
The yellow, she's told you, is the yellow of your hair. The yellow of the sun. The sun that gives her strength. Energy. Power. She tells you that she wouldn't need the sun as long as she has you. It makes you melt every time.
You believe you are the sun.
You tug at the collar and gently bite down just above the bone.
Her fingers tighten, digging into your skin.
You lick into the dip of her collar and all the way up her neck.
This time, you're pretty sure it's you that moans.
Desire pools low in your belly and you know its time to move from the frame of the door. This is not where you want to spend your anniversary.
You move to the side into the doorway and her leg slides down from your back.
This time, she's walking you back to the bed. Guiding you with hands on your hips.
You follow from your lips not breaking the kiss that she's managed to pull you into.
Her tongue swipes at your bottom lip and you give her entrance.
Her hands glide through your hair. Her fingers spread.
'Thud'
You've hit something that isn't the bed.
You know it's not the bed because you know its more paces than this from the door to the bed. You've travelled this journey a lot.
One of her hands releases its grip from your hair and moves behind her.
You hear the object sliding against the floor out of your way.
As she does this she's managed to grow in height.
You're so confused you pull away.
"What the hell is that?"
She looks to her feet that appear to be no longer grounded on the floor.
She looks sheepish. It's undeniably cute.
5 seconds of silence. 5 seconds of you looking between her and the object.
"Wha… Is tha… What, is that?" You just about manage to stutter out.
Her right leg shifts awkwardly from side to side. Scraping at the air. It's so endearing you think you fall in love with her even more.
Her eyes meet yours, and for the third time tonight you're lost at home.
"It… it's my gift to you." You've never seen her look so small even as she hovers a foot in the air.
"A dresser?" You shoot her a questioning glance unsure what to make of this.
You move over to it and you allow your hand to slide across the top of it. It's so familiar.
"Well… it's… It's your dresser." My god she is cute. Even in her uniform.
It takes a minute to register but when it does, the gears in your brain whirr at full pace in an attempt to understand.
She sees all of this.
She floats over and rests one elbow on top of the dresser. Her other hand meets your shoulder and slides down the length of your arm until her fingers interlace with yours.
"It's your dresser." She says with a little more confidence. "To be precise."
"It's. It's my gift to you. Well, it's obviously not a gift to you, because it's yours, and you own it you know but I wanted to surprise you and I just thought…"
She's definitely rambling. You're starting to see where this is going and a small smile threatens to give that away.
You don't.
You kinda want to hear her say it. Just so it's all real.
"Look, you know I'm not great with this kind of stuff. It's hard for me to let people in, and it shouldn't be with you. And it isn't because I love you. I've loved you for 401 days. 401 days, 13 hours, 27 minutes and give or take 30 seconds…"
You know she knows the exact second.
You fall in love that little bit more.
"And for every second of all this time, all I've wanted to do was spend it with you. So I guess, this is my way of asking if we can do that. If you wanna do that. If you wanna spend as much of our time together as I do. If you wanna…"
You furrow your brows and fake pout in an attempt to get her to continue. Your hand, interlaced in hers, pulses slightly encouraging her to go on.
You know she knows you know. But she knows she needs to say it.
It comes all at once.
The willyoumoveinwithme?
You can't stop yourself now. You break out into a wild Cheshire cat grin.
She takes a breath. It seems like she takes all the air in the room. She probably could if she really tried.
"Brittany S. Pierce, will you move in with me? Please? Make me the happiest girl in all the Universes?"
Before you know it you're tackling a wall. She remains unmoved as your arms wrap around her.
"Oh, sorry." She mumbles into your hair. She realizes her error and drops herself back to the ground letting her guard down. She allows you to tackle her to the bed.
You both disintegrate into a fit of giggles.
"Yes" escapes your lips as your lips meet hers with so much conviction you could put the most criminal of criminals away a hundred times over on the action alone.
"Yes Santana Lopez, I can't wait to live with you. I can't wait to wake up every morning in our house. In your arms. At home."
She smiles goofily back at you. A look you know only you get to see with that outfit.
"You're a dork you know that?" You lean back and slide your hands from her shoulders, over the 'S' and down to her waist tugging at the hem of her shirt.
"But I'm your dork now." She says smiling up at you and propping herself up on her elbows.
For some reason it's in this moment you realize you didn't say I love you back this morning. But it's even better now. You now get a chance to say this every day. You get a chance to say you loved her everyday from the very first day.
A hand reaches out and tucks your hair behind an ear. It rests at the base of your neck, fingers twirling in your streaks of sunlight.
You watch her as she outwardly takes you in from your eyes right down to your underwear.
You don't think it's possible but her eyes have grown a shade darker and it's then you know.
You know you made the right decision with the ducks.
You know you made an even better decision in saying yes.
And you know in that moment that you're getting all those things you were left wondering if you'd ever get earlier.
She tells you everything you wanted to know.
She will treat you to everything you want to be treated to without thought.
She will do everything she knows you want done without hesitation.
She will be cheesier than you ever thought possible and you'll love it.
She is everything you never knew you needed.
She tells you without a single word.
The 'S' to you, will always be your 'S' now. Your Santana.
But for right now, you can't wait to take it off her.