It's too sweet.
The crunchy, fluffy, rich sweetness filling her mouth overwhelms her, and she rushes to the kitchen for water. Once the cloy is diluted, she calls out, "I'm getting some water. Do you want anything?"
"No," says Brittany, "I'm with you."
When Santana returns, Brittany is crafting the most perfect S'more ever. The marshmallow is beautifully roasted, slowly, among the coals, golden brown on at least three-quarters of the surface, with no sign of char. It's strong on the outside and molten on the inside. She takes scissors — scissors! — and slices it through the middle, then slides a piece of chocolate inside. Now the finale, the graham cracker jacket.
Santana sits beside her girl on the blankets in front of the fireplace. Brittany smiles, proud.
She offers her creation to Santana, who smiles and shakes her head. Even though it truly is the most perfect S'more ever. Brittany turns away, pretending offense. Then she's back, offering her lips.
"That, I do want," says Santana, meeting her. It's sweet, and warm, and rich. Santana pulls away first, catching her breath. Brittany gets that look in her eye. She turns away for a moment, then back, with the most perfect S'more ever half in her teeth, laughing around it.
"That is not spaghetti!"
Brittany whines, and somehow laughs at the same time, and twinkles, and is so cute and funny and inviting that Santana can't help herself: she bites it.
And even though it is the most perfect S'more ever, and it is, still warm and melty but not searing the inside of her mouth, it's still too sweet, but Brittany is sweeter, and salty, and funny, and the perfect, perfect foil for it, and for her, and all she wants is some more.
Tags: brittana fic prompt thank you pushing past the overwhelm