Scattered All Around Me
"What are you looking at?" Santana asks.
They're lying in Brittany's backyard, under the old oak tree that holds up the ruins of their childhood tree house. It's a late spring day, the clear kind that makes the trees look greener and more alive than ever. Brittany squints through the stirring foliage above their heads. "I'm looking at the sky."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Remember when I asked you why my eyes were blue?"
Santana smiles. "I said that your eyes were blue because you were always looking up at the blue sky, and so all of the blue reflected in it just stayed there."
"And when I asked you how you knew that, you just said, 'Duh, I read it in a book.'" Brittany sighs. "I never did find that book."
Santana turns onto her side to face Brittany. "I don't remember which book it was."
"That's okay; I like to think that you thought of it all by yourself. Because you totally would even if you don't want anyone to know you said mushy stuff like that."
Santana laughs; a soft, huffing laugh. "Maybe. But only for you." Her fingers cross the half-inch between their bodies and strokes Brittany's elbow. "I love your eyes."
"I know you do." Brittany's gaze turns back towards her, and Santana leans into it, the color of the sky.