Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. I'm not that awesome.

A/N: Hey all! I've decided to move these drabbles I wrote on Tumblr a while ago onto FF, and I'll be continuing to write more if people are interested. Your feedback is much appreciated!


Here Comes The Sun

Chapter 1: Easy Silence

"Alright, Hummel, that's enough."

You can hear the irritation in her tone despite the fact that you know she's trying to hide it. Something about "toning down Snix" or whatever it was she'd mumbled when you'd pointed out how nice she'd been to everyone lately.

"Babe…" Your voice is quiet and low; it's not meant for anyone but her to hear as your hand brushes lightly against hers. She glances sideways at you, the frown lines that line her forehead fading significantly when you smile at her. It kinda scares you; you know she's guarded, but you've somehow managed to infiltrate her walls. You're honored, thrilled, and terrified all at the same time.

"Why don't we call it a night?" Elliott suggests, glancing between the rest of the members. The tension's pretty obvious; Kurt's been nagging at you all since you got your first gig, and it's starting to grate on everyone. You totally understand, he wants it to be perfect, but sometimes you wonder where the fun that you'd had before went.

"I think that's a great idea," Rachel adds, giving you a sideways glance. Santana's gone silent, and a quick shake of your head tells Rachel that you'll take care of it. She can tell Santana's moods almost as well as you can, but you know that anyone trying to push past that wall that isn't you will get the full force of your girlfriend's wrath, and you're not about the let that happen.

Taking your guitar off, you walk to your case, putting it away before you walk to Santana's small corner of the loft. She'd slipped from the living room silently when everyone had started to scatter, and you come in to find her packing a few things in a bag. Apparently it's been decided that you'll be staying at your place tonight. Not that you mind: you've got a small studio, which means you don't have to worry about roommates, or interruptions, or anyone bothering Santana when she needs some quiet. Which it's pretty clear she does.

"You ready to go?" you ask, hands tucked in your back pockets as you wait for her. She lifts her head, smiling weakly at you, and you instantly hold a hand out for her to take. The way her fingers slide between your own makes your heart stutter a little, and you lean in to press a kiss to her cheek, smiling against the warm skin.

"Thanks," she says softly, shouldering her bag. You just nod, leading her back out into the living room to grab your guitar. "We're heading out guys," you call to the other three, not bothering to locate them in the loft before you're tugging Santana through the door, your guitar bumping into your leg as you go.

The subway ride into Manhattan is quiet. Her heads resting on your shoulder, your fingers playing with the ends of her long hair, and your eyes have fallen shut as the train slides through the underground of New York. Every now and then, you just lightly brush your lips against the crown of her head. They're subtle reminders that you're there, that you'll listen whenever she wants to talk. If she ever does.

When you get back to your apartment, the first thing you do is drop your guitar by the couch, tossing your jacket onto it and pulling her into your arms. You can see the way she's unloading, the stress she puts on herself fading away when it's just the two of you.

"Thank you," she says softly again, and you lean in to brush your lips against her own, your arms banding around her waist to hold your bodies close together. Her own hands slide up your back, tangling in the tendrils at the base of her neck as she presses her lips to yours once more. There's no burning heat behind it; it's not a kiss that leads to ripped clothes and tangled sheets. Instead, it's that warmth that's been slowly churning inside of you since the beginning of your relationship, and as you pull back, words balance on the tip of your tongue. You don't say them yet. That's for another day. Instead, you just tug her to the couch, pulling her down to be your little spoon as your reach for the remote.

"Oh god, please don't tell me you're gonna make me watch one of your lame shows," she groans, and you fake offense as you gasp at her. Ever since she discovered your secret dorky side (apparently you hadn't hidden your Lord Of The Rings DVD set as well as you thought) she's made it a point to tease you about some of your guilty pleasures. You don't mind, though; you know she actually finds it adorable, and she's already sat through several movie marathons. Yeah, you're pretty sure it's love.

"Shut up," you bite out in retort, leaning down to place a playful nip on the side of her neck. Her entire body jolts against yours, and you let out a laugh. "My shows are totally awesome, and you know it."The look she gives you in response makes you crack up, and while you're busy wiping the tears of laughter from the corners of your eyes, she steals the remote. By the time you're focused back on the TV, she's already got Netflix pulled up, her favorite episode of Orange is the New Black ready to go.

"Why am I not surprised?" you tease, your hand slipping under her shirt to palm the warm skin of her stomach. She presses back further into you at the contact, fitting her entire body against your own. Discovering her secret love of cuddling early on in your relationship had been one of your favorite things, and you made her spend the entire day in bed with you, skin on skin as you wasted the hours away with her. She pretended to care about the things she was missing out on, but you saw that smile she couldn't wipe off her face the entire time. You see everything, and you're not really sure she minds anymore.

"You know you like this show just as much as I do," she responds, shifting her head so she can look at your face. You shrug, but the expression you're giving her tells her the truth. You're totally a sucker for whatever she wants, but Orange is the New Black is pretty good, and you totally don't mind watching it with her.

Her feet tangle with yours at the other end of the couch, and you slide your hand from under her shirt just long enough to grab the blanket that's behind you, pulling it over your bodies. She hums low in her throat, tugging the blanket up so it's tucked beneath her chin. It's the perfect way to end your day, and as she nuzzles closer into you, her hand sliding down to tangle with yours on her stomach, you smile to yourself. It's definitely love.