AN: I've had a shitty week and a lot of feelings. Therefore:
You emerge from the bathroom. Your hair is loose around your shoulders, messy. My fingers tugged the high ponytail out of your hair as soon as we got to my bedroom. My fingers slide so easily through your hair these days. They know the way through your locks, silky soft against the pads of my fingers. I remember once when you kissed my fingertips so softly, your lips were silk on me then. I think it must be you, Santana. Everything about you is silk; your hair and your lips, the skin I trace as we lie together. Your cheeks and your brow, I love to run my fingers over your forehead and soothe the wrinkles there. If I could smooth them everyday when we curl into bed together, I would. I will. I plan to.
I plan to wrap you in my arms, tuck you into me and hold you. Whisper into your silken hair that you're so beautiful, so smart, so everything. My everything. Sometimes I feel like you forget that you are so much to me, Santana.
You're wearing an old shirt of mine, a pajama shirt that makes your legs look like they go on forever. You always say my legs are to die for – and maybe they are, but yours are to worship. The skin is caramel and silk, all of you is silk, but your legs especially.
"Hey," you say in the softest voice. You look so warm Santana, so full of love. So full of knowing you are loved. It makes my heart swell in my chest and want to burst with joy, with pride, with love for you. It's so big sometimes I don't know what to do with myself, these feelings are. It'll be the smallest things. I'll see you at school, smiling so big at me in the hallway, pressing a featherlight kiss on my cheek as and my heart feels so full of love for you. It makes me feel like I need to do something with my hands or pull your close and kiss you so hard or just out in the hallway, where everyone can see. Sometimes it makes me want to cry, especially if you aren't there, especially if I don't have a way to show you how I feel.
You settle into the bed next to me. "Hey," I say, kissing your temple and wrapping an arm around your waist.
"I feel amazing," you mumble.
"You do," I reply, smiling into your neck.
You chuckle and pull my arm tighter around you. We settle into silence and it's warm around us, like blankets we've rolled ourselves up in. I hold you tight and close my eyes, soaking in the smell of you, the feel of you. Nothing is more comforting than the way you feel against me and the way it makes me feel in turn. I can't even explain it, San. You feel like home.
"You're so beautiful," I whisper. The words escape without my consent and I'm glad they do. I should tell you every time we're together; when we run into each other in the hallway, before we go to sleep and while we're making love. You should know it like you know a Cheerios routine, or maybe like something less harsh and taxing. You should know it and feel it. It should never be routine. I don't want it to be something you expect, part of what we say every morning or when we sit down together to eat dinner together. I don't want you to know it's coming and say it in return because that's what you're supposed to reply with or because we're both so busy. One day, when we're both grown up and together and building a life together I will find new ways to tell you every day. I don't want us to forget how we feel now, just because life gets busy and we get older.
I think about the future, Santana. It's scary because all I see is you. I can't even imagine a life without you right now. I want you with me all through this life. I want to love you every day and I want you there to love me back. I've wanted to for so long. I feel like I've lived decades or life times in our love. I feel like I've climbed mountains and swam in oceans. I feel like I've died in our love, but never felt more alive because of it. It's so overwhelming sometimes and the greatest feeling in the world; to be so open and exposed to you. I don't even know if any of my feelings make sense sometimes, but I don't think it has to. Maybe it shouldn't. I don't want someone to break it down into a formula anyone can understand and replicate, San. I want it just for us. I want my love just for you. For you and only you forever.
I'm so in love with you.
"Britt," you sigh back. I can hear it in your voice, you're halfway to sleep.
"So beautiful."
You stretch out your body before relaxing back against me. "Love you," you mumble, turning over and looking at me through sleepy eyes. I kiss your lips so softly. They're silk and I can't help but smile against them. Your breath is fresh, you taste like mint and clean and Santana underneath it all.
"Why're ya smilin'," you mumble, blinking slowly.
"Because I love you so much," I whisper back. I kiss your lips, your nose, forehead, every part I can touch; your eyelids and temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. I whisper my love and hold you close, tracing patterns on your stomach over the old shirt.
I can't help but feel this is right. I'm right for you and you're right for me. I want us to be like this and I know you feel the same. I'm not afraid, Santana. I want you to stop being afraid, too. I'll love you as loud or as quiet as you want. Just know that I love you, too.