A/N: By popular demand and the voices in my head, here's the little Heartwood Epilogue one-shot, set at Christmas time after the war. As always, big thanks to slayue and uvaack for their support and cheerleading.
Heartwood Christmas
December 1945
Santana heard stomping outside the front door. She looked up from her book and saw Brittany enter, covered in snow. Brittany panted through her scarf, as she pulled off her snowy cap. Santana watched from her chair near the fireplace, as Brittany hung up her tin cloth coat, and globs of snow dropped to the floor. By the time she kicked off her boots and unwrapped her scarf, there was a puddle of melted snow under the coat pegs, and a rosy-cheeked Brittany with mussed hair smiling back at Santana.
"Road's clear," Brittany announced with pride.
"I heard Charlie and Buster's sleigh bells the whole time," Santana replied with a smile. "Cocoa?"
"Yes please," Brittany said, kissing Santana on the cheek as she went to the kitchen.
Brittany curled up in a chair by the fire and warmed her hands and socked feet. She heard Santana stir the milk in the saucepan and smiled. The short days and long nights were a burden much easier to bear with Santana in her home. Their home.
"Well at least now we don't have to send our regrets to the gals, and we can actually leave the house," Santana commented as she handed Brittany her cup of hot cocoa.
Brittany pulled Santana onto her lap. "Aw come on now, being snowed in with me can't be that bad," she said with a sly grin.
"No, not bad at all," Santa replied with a soft kiss.
Santana got up off Brittany's lap, under protest from Brittany.
"I have to finish packing," Santana explained and walked upstairs.
Brittany sipped her cocoa. "Ugh, I have to start."
Brittany entered their bedroom and saw Santana with her back to her, snapping a suitcase closed. Brittany slipped her arms around Santana's waist and hugged her from behind. She rested her chin on Santana's shoulder.
"I don't wanna pack," Brittany pouted in Santana's ear.
"You don't have to," Santana chuckled. "I packed for both of us."
Brittany stood straighter and turned Santana to face her.
"You're amazing," Brittany grinned and kissed Santana on the lips.
"Mmm," Santana hummed into their kiss, then pulled away. "Well you were busy clearing the snow. Also, you're a terrible packer," she said, scrunching up her nose. "Everything's always wrinkled."
"Pop never got the knack of teaching me how to fold dresses," Brittany explained.
Santana rubbed her hands up and down Brittany's arms. "I'll teach you," she offered gently.
"I dunno. I kind of like you doing all the packing," Brittany smirked.
Santana lightly smacked Brittany's arm. "Incorrigible."
"Lovable," Brittany countered.
"That too," Santana smiled.
Brittany and Santana drove into Seattle the next day and pulled up to Hazel's hotel. Brittany jumped out of the driver's seat and jogged around the truck to open Santana's door.
"Really Brittany? Here?" Santana said, looking at the few people on the sidewalk.
"It's slushy," Brittany shrugged.
"You're sweet," Santana whispered. "But we're not at home."
"I know. I'll be careful," Brittany promised.
"This isn't…"
"This is being a good friend. How could anyone see it any differently?" Brittany asked with a smile and an offered hand.
"Incorrigible," Santana said under her breath.
"Lovable," Brittany whispered back.
"There's my girls!" Hazel greeted with open arms when Brittany and Santana entered the hotel.
"Missed you too Hazel," Brittany replied with a strong hug.
"How were the roads?" Hazel asked.
"Terrible," Santana grimaced.
"Not bad," Brittany shrugged.
"Will you ever get used to the snow?" Hazel asked Santana.
"I'm getting there," Santana replied.
Brittany chuckled. Santana rolled her eyes.
"Come on, let's get you settled," Hazel suggested, and showed them to their room.
Hazel walked them up to the second floor and down to the end of the hall. It was a large two-room suite, with a brass bed, radio, sofa and desk. Santana ran her fingers across the lace runner on top of the bureau. Framed pictures of younger Hazel and a young blonde father and daughter lined the runner.
"Is this your room?" Santana asked Hazel. "We couldn't put you out."
"It's my room," Brittany smiled. "Well mine and Pop's when we were in town. Now it's ours."
Santana looked around again, now seeing a picture of the mill, loggers, and Burt in the mill truck.
"Thank you Hazel," Santana said. "It's perfect."
Hazel waved her off. "Come down after you've freshened up. Mercedes saved you plates from lunch," Hazel informed them as she left and closed the door behind her.
"Why didn't you tell me you had a standing room at Hazel's?" Santana asked.
"It never came up," Brittany smiled with a shrug.
Santana walked into the bedroom and unpacked their outfits for that evening. Brittany walked in and slipped her arms around her.
"You're not mad I didn't tell you, are you? I thought it would be a fun surprise," Brittany explained.
Santana softened in Brittany's arms and smiled. "It's a lovely surprise. Not mad at all."
"Good," Brittany replied with a peck on Santana's lips.
"Let's go see Mercedes and meet her man Sam," Santana suggested.
"Good, because I'm starving," Brittany replied.
Brittany led Santana to the kitchen and pushed open the doors with both hands. Mercedes looked up from wiping down the a counter. Her hair was covered with a bandana. Her waist wrapped in a clean, white apron. She broke into a wide, toothy grin.
"Well, I'll be damned. Look who finally made it off the mountain," Mercedes greeted.
"Hey Princess," Brittany replied, enveloping Mercedes in a hug.
"Thought you'd be a popsicle by now Santana," Mercedes said, pulling Santana into a hug.
"Not yet," Santana laughed. "That's next month."
"Don't miss those winters, that's for damn sure," Mercedes replied.
"Don't blame ya," Santana agreed.
"Where's Sam? I want to meet him," Brittany said looking around.
"He's fixing a window sash up on third. He'll be down to have lunch with us in a few minutes," Mercedes replied, looking at her watch.
Sam walked through the kitchen doors. Santana turned to see a tall, lanky young man, with a mop of blonde hair that needed a good cut. He dropped his tool box on the table with his right hand, and wiped his brow with his left forearm. The stump where his hand should be revealed when his sleeve push across his forehead.
"We're eating there Sam," Mercedes chided him.
"Sorry," he said sheepishly, and set his toolbox on the floor.
"Shit, you're a one-handed handy man? That's a new one," Brittany declared.
"Brittany!" Santana chastised, much more embarrassed than Brittany or Sam.
"Yes ma'am," Sam replied, extending his right hand to greet Brittany and Santana. "Don't worry Miss Santana, I've heard it all. Hazel calls me 'Lefty'," Sam said with a proud smile.
"Thank you for your sacrifice, and service," Santana said.
"You're welcome, ma'am," Sam replied. "Though I think I should be thanking you gals for your service. It was a good thing your father did, Miss Pierce."
"It's Brittany. And we did what we needed to do to help you boys," Brittany replied.
"Well thank you just the same. And gettin' Miss Hazel to hire me on too," Sam added.
"I can't make her do anything see don't want to do. 'Sides, she has a soft spot for blondes," Brittany joked.
Brittany, Santana and Mercedes gossiped about the lumber mill and Seattle. Sam listened as he ate. Santana watched him as he doted on and deferred to Mercedes. He reminded her of a puppy. She could understand what Mercedes saw in him. He was sweet, handsome, well-mannered and honest. Santana decided she liked him just fine by the end of the meal. They parted and returned to their rooms to change for the evening.
"Aren't I the luckiest fellow. You ladies look mighty fine this evening," Sam complimented as they rejoined each other in the lobby.
Brittany was dressed in a forest green dress, with black heels and a matching green wool overcoat and hat that topped her perfectly waved blonde hair. Santana was in a red dress with black overcoat and heels. Her black hat with red flower cocked to one side, sat perfectly atop her shiny black waves. Mercedes wore a deep purple dress and black coat. Her black leather gloves shone nearly as much as her patent leather purse.
"I almost forgot you gals owned dresses," Mercedes joked.
Santana smoothed down her dress. "Not much use for this outfit back home."
"So it is home, huh? Not heading back to California?" Mercedes asked.
Santana shook her head. "My father is all set with his practice. He doesn't need me."
"And I do," Brittany added.
Sam offered to play chauffeur and drive them downtown to the newly renovated Berry Theatre. Rachel had sent them photographs of the theatre last month, but they all agreed the photographs didn't do it justice.
It was a 1920s, art-deco playhouse on 2nd Avenue and Pike. It fell into serious disrepair during the Depression, but now had found new life. Rachel's father and business partner found backers for their investment after their big success with the USO shows. After being driven out of business just a few years earlier, it was a great triumph to be back in the theatre district, with a new marquee announcing an all new Christmas Review for the holiday season.
"I thought Mercedes said they were Jewish," Sam asked Brittany as he craned his neck to look up at the back lit sign.
"They are, but as far as I know, there's not enough Hanukkah songs for one act, let alone a whole show," Brittany explained.
Sam nodded as if Brittany made perfect sense and had the best explanation. They entered the ornate lobby, covered in red and gold carpets, red velvet drapes with gold rope ties. Santana looked up at the chandelier twinkling above them.
"Wow, they really brought this place back to its glory," she gaped.
"They put in a screen for movies too," Kurt said from behind.
"Kurt!" Mercedes cheered. "Where's Blaine?"
"Right here," Blaine said from behind her.
"Kurt, Blaine, this is Sam," Mercedes said introducing them.
"Great to meet you," Sam said with a broad smile.
"Pleasure," Kurt replied
Blaine grabbed Kurt's arm. "We should get our seats," Blaine suggested.
Blaine, Kurt, Sam, Mercedes, Santana and Brittany lined up to hand their tickets to the usher. Kurt and Blaine were shown in. Mercedes and Sam were shown the stairs to the balcony, as were Brittany and Santana. Kurt and Blaine turned and saw their friends still standing at the usher, looking sad.
"They're with us," Kurt assured the usher.
"Colored seating is upstairs," the usher said, brushing Kurt's protest aside.
"They wouldn't have...would they?" Brittany wondered aloud to herself.
"What's the problem William?" Quinn asked as she emerged from the lobby.
"These gentlemen want the coloreds to sit with them in the orchestra seats," Wiliam explained matter-of-fact.
"It's okay Quinn, we don't want any trouble for your opening night," Santana deferred.
"I reserved eight seats front and center, for all of you. Mike and Tina are already there. So William if you have a problem with seating my friends where their tickets clearly say they're seated, you can look for another job," Quinn stated.
"But Miss Fabray…" William argued.
"You're fired. Jimmy!" Quinn called to the young doorman.
He trotted over quickly. "Yes, Miss Fabray?"
"William, give Jimmy your hat and jacket. Jimmy, you're now an usher. Seat our guests according to their tickets. Got it?"
"Got it, Miss Fabray," Jimmy nervously replied.
"Quinn, thank you, but firing a man…" Mercedes began.
"I manage the front of the house. My instructions were crystal clear before opening night. I'm relaying them at Mr. Berry's insistence. You might not be able to go north of the canal, but you're always welcome here. Everyone is. Mr. Berry said it himself. He entertained all our boys during the war. He'll entertain all of them and anyone else who buys a ticket now."
Mercedes, Sam, Brittany and Santana grinned and sighed with relief.
"Good to see you Quinn," Brittany greeted.
"Well, look who made it off the mountain. And after all that snow," Quinn replied. "You look lovely Santana. Living in the woods with Brittany looks like it's treating you well."
"It's that clean mountain air," Santana smiled back.
"Looks like you could use some," Brittany added.
Quinn's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Tech week was brutal, and don't look too close. The paint's still drying in some of the lobby," Quinn whispered back.
"How's Rachel?" Santana asked.
"Featured performer, so she's been unbearable, of course," Quinn smirked.
The house lights dimmed.
"Showtime. Go get your seats," Quinn said, ushering them down the aisle.
Santana felt hundreds of pairs of eyes follow her down the aisle. Brittany placed her hand on the small of Santana's back, where it stayed until they were seated next to Tina and Mike.
"It'll be okay," Brittany whispered.
And it was. As soon as the show started, the audience's attention was turned to the stage, and remained there for the next two hours. Rachel brought the house down at the end with "White Christmas". Shouts of encores and bravos echoed through the theatre. Rachel curtsied and waved the other performers onto the stage for a final bow. The audience continued to clap and roar with approval.
"Damn she's good," Brittany remarked.
"And she knows it," Santana winked as her hands ached from clapping.
After the audience had filed out of the theatre, Tina introduced Mike to Santana and Brittany.
"We're going to your restaurant after, right?" Santana asked.
"Yes. Private party," Mike replied.
They met Rachel in her dressing room. Rachel leapt up and nearly tackled Brittany and Santana, Kurt and Blaine.
"I'm so glad you could come!" Rachel cried.
"We saw you yesterday Rachel," Kurt laughed.
"Not you, Brittany and Santana. I never thought they'd come down from that damned mountain," Rachel said, smacking Kurt's arm.
"Jesus, it's not Everest," Brittany said, rolling her eyes. "You'd think we're worlds away."
"Seems like it sometimes," Rachel replied. "It's like it was another life, those years at the camp. A good life, for sure, but so different than what I have now."
"Well sure, we didn't give you a standing ovation every time you felled a tree," Santana quipped.
"Oh I miss you gals," Rachel said, hugging Santana and Brittany again. "But enough of this, we need to celebrate!"
Mike and Sam drove everyone over to the restaurant. The bartender was at the ready. Glasses were lined up, waiting for their orders. Late into the night, Rachel, Quinn, Mercedes, Santana,Tina, Kurt and Blaine retold stories of the logging camp. Mercedes, Quinn, Rachel and Tina talked about it almost wistfully many times.
"You miss it?" Mike asked.
"Getting frostbite? Hell to the no," Mercedes laughed.
"Trying to scare off a bear? No thank you," Tina added.
"Almost killing Santana with a tree? Not my finest moment," Quinn replied.
"I found the work quite liberating and challenging," Rachel chimed in.
"Bullshit," Mercedes countered.
"Well, okay, I could have done without logging in two feet of snow," Rachel conceded.
"What's that, about waist-high for you?" Brittany teased.
"I miss the freedom though," Mercedes said honestly. "It was hard as hell work, but the money was good, and y'all treated me just the same."
Tina and Santana nodded.
"I'll never forget that feeling," Tina added.
"A toast," Quinn said, clearing her throat and raising her glass.
"To the best damn group of loggers a gal could ever ask for."
"Here, here!" they all said, and clinked their glasses.
"Best looking crew that's for damn sure," Kurt added. "You should see the guys we have now," he joked.
"Well they all can't be as pretty and talented as us," Rachel bragged and took a swig of wine. "Speaking of talent, what did you all think of my performance this evening?"
Everyone groaned and rolled their eyes. Mike turned on the radio behind the bar.
"Yes, music, dancing, let's do that," Blaine suggested.
"You were great Rachel," Santana admitted.
"The audience loved you," Brittany added.
Mike pulled Tina up from her chair and started dancing with her. Sam pulled Mercedes up and joined MIke and Tina. Kurt looked at Brittany with a smile and she held out her hand to lead him to the dance floor. Blaine, Santana, Rachel and Quinn all look at each other, finished their drinks and joined the group. When a ballad came on, Blaine paired off with Rachel, leaving Quinn and Santana to sit down and watch the couples dance. Brittany peered over Kurt's shoulder and gave Santana a comforting, but sad smile. Santana sighed.
"So really, how's things up at the camp?" Quinn asked.
"Good," Santana replied, rubbing her feet. "Busy. We haven't really slowed down much since the war ended. Housing is the new big thing."
"No, I mean, how are you doing? Your father is home, back in California, but you're still there. How did you swing that?" Quinn asked.
"I told him I already had a job," Santana said plainly.
Quinn took a long drink from her wine glass.
"It's the freedom you have up there, isn't it. Like what Mercedes said?" Quinn pressed.
"Yes. I have an important job up there. People, the men, they listened to me. Respect me," Santana explained.
"You made a nice little home for yourself with Brittany, haven't you," Quinn added.
Santana swallowed a mouthful of wine.
"Looks like you've settled in nicely with the Berrys. How's that going?" Santana asked.
Quinn raised an eyebrow at the deflecting question.
"Good. Better now. Rough start at first."
"Rough? How so?" Santana asked
"You know how Rachel's father and his business partner lost their theatre?"
"Yeah, business was bad," Santana explained.
"Business got bad, because one of the companies my father ran, pushed them out of business," Quinn replied.
Santana's eyes widened. "Rachel knew all this time? They knew?"
Quinn chuckled.
"You forget. The Fabrays were big players in Seattle. Practically ran the city. Ah the good ol' days," Quinn said dryly.
"The good ol' days were never good," Santana replied.
"I'll drink to that," Quinn said, raising her glass.
"So, they came 'round to the idea of you working for them."
"Pretty quickly to be honest. They heard all the gossip. They knew who I was. After a couple holiday dinners, they knew I wasn't my father," Quinn explained.
"And Rachel put in a good word for you," Santana suggested.
Quinn rolled her eyes and half smiled.
"You laid the charm on thick with them, huh?" Santana teased.
"Oh no," Quinn winked. "Just a thin layer."
Santana stared out the passenger window, as they drove out of Seattle and toward the Cascades.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Brittany softly asked.
Santana closed her eyes and smiled at Brittany. She reached out for her hand and clasped it with a sigh.
"Everyone's doing so well," Santana replied.
"Did you think they wouldn't?" Brittany asked.
"No, no, not that," Santana said, turning her gaze back to the fading city in the side mirror. "It's just…"
"You miss them," Brittany suggested.
"Yeah," Santana said, turning her sad smile to Brittany. "I'm glad they're happy, and safe and succeeding. They've found their place."
"It's just not in the woods. With us," Brittany added.
Santana nodded.
Brittany squeezed her hand.
"That's alright though, because they'll always have a place in us," Brittany replied.
"We should visit more often," Santana decided.
"We will," Brittany agreed.
The next morning, Santana awoke to a giddy Brittany, getting dressed in a hurry.
"Britt, what are you doing? It's hardly light out," Santana complained.
"We have to go cut down our Christmas tree, silly," Brittany explained.
Santana sat up and looked out the window.
"Britt, there's a fresh foot of snow out there. On top of the two feet we already had," Santana whined.
"Christmas isn't Christmas without a tree Santana," Brittany replied.
"Can I at least have coffee and breakfast first?" Santana asked, pulling the covers up to her chin.
"Yes, but I'm not bringing it to you, or you'll never get out of bed," Brittany grinned.
"You're mean," Santana pouted.
"Breakfast will be ready in 10 minutes," Brittany said with a wink and left the room.
Brittany and Santana had walked into the woods for no more than five minutes when Santana stopped.
"How much further?"
Brittany stopped and turned around. Behind her was Santana, snow up to her knees, wrapped tight in her work coat, scarf and hat, Brittany could only see her red nose and watering eyes. She tilted her head in sympathy, and smiled.
"Not much longer now. There's a stand of trees we planted a few years ago just over the ridge," Brittany gestured.
"You know, people are buying these artificial trees now. Just put 'em together. No need to go outside," Santana suggested cheerfully.
A snowball hit her square in the chest.
"Brittany!" Santana complained.
"Fake trees," Brittany muttered as she turned back around and continued walked ahead of Santana. "Fake trees. Might as well have a fake Christmas. Or none at all."
A snowball hit the back of Brittany's neck. She flinched as the snow melted down her neck. She turned around to see Santana holding another snowball in her hand, her hip and eyebrow cocked in defiance.
"You really want to start this?" Brittany asked as she bent down and molded a handful of snow into a ball.
"You started it," Santana smirked.
"I'll finish it too," Brittany grinned, and ran toward Santana, arm raised and ready to throw.
Santana squealed and threw her snowball, completely missing Brittany. Brittany dropped her own snowball and half-heartedly tackled Santana to the ground. They fell with a muffled thud into the deep snow. Santana's hat lay a couple feet away.
"You were saying?" Brittany asked triumphantly, propped up on her elbows on top of Santana.
"I was saying we better find a tree quick, because I'm cold and wet and now my hair is full of snow and it's going to freeze, and I'm going to get pneumonia and then you'll be sorry," Santana replied, squirming under Brittany's weight.
Brittany kissed Santana's cold, red nose, then her cool lips.
"Tree first. Then we'll get you home and I promise, I'll warm you right up," Brittany said with a wink.
Santana felt warmer already. Brittany climbed off of Santana and helped her up. Santana brushed the snow off herself, and dutifully followed Brittany further into the woods. As promised, there was a small stand of Douglas Firs, and it didn't take long for them to agree on which tree to cut down. Brittany pulled the hand axe from her belt and with several exacting chops, felled the tree. They secured the tree with two ropes and slung the rope over their shoulders, walking side by side, pulling their Christmas tree behind them back home.
Santana watched from in front of the fire, as Brittany propped the tree up in its stand. It had a pronounced lean to the left.
"A little more to the right Britt," Santana suggested from afar.
"A little help from you would work too," Brittany replied.
"I'm still warming up," Santana explained, rubbing her arms.
Brittany got up, stood back and assessed the tree's alignment.
"It can wait," she shrugged, and joined Santana at the fire. She slid her arms around Santana and hugged her close, rubbing her hands up and down Santana's back.
"Getting warmer?" Brittany whispered in her ear.
"A little," Santana replied.
Brittany unclasped Santana's belt, and pulled the shirt tails out of her pants.
"Uh, I'm not that warm yet, Britt," Santana protested, her hands halting Brittany's.
"You will be," Brittany answered, and unbuttoned Santana's shirt with Santana's hands still resting on her's.
Brittany gently kissed Santana's cheek and neck, as she slowly undressed her. Santana's body warmed quickly, just as Brittany promised, and soon she was undressing Brittany as well. Once they were both in just their bras and long underwear, Brittany pulled away and walked over to the record player. Santana instantly felt cold again.
"What are you doing?" Santana complained with a smile. Amused at Brittany's odd behavior. It never ceased to befuddle and endear her.
"I didn't get to dance with you the other night," Brittany explained as she returned to Santana.
The music started to play, and Brittany returned her arms to Santana's waist, and Santana's arms slipped over Brittany's shoulders. They kissed slow and deep, painting pictures of their love with their tongues and lips. Brittany unclasped the back of Santana's bra and Santana pulled away.
"What's the matter?" Brittany panted.
"Here?" Santana asked, looking behind her at the windows shining with the soft winter morning light.
"Why not?" Brittany smiled, smoothing her hands over Santana's bare back. "Not like we have neighbors."
Santana opened her mouth to protest once more, but Brittany silenced her with another kiss.
"Our home," Brittany said between kisses.
"Ours," Santana repeated back as she pulled at Brittany's bra straps.
As they swayed side to side, with the beat of the music, they shed the rest of their clothes and held each other. They turned and shuffled and swayed in front of the fireplace, warming their bodies and hearts and mouths with kisses and caresses and skin pressed tight together.
"This is better than any dance we could've had at the restaurant," Santana said against Brittany's lips.
"Mmhmm," Brittany agreed, kissing Santana in reply. "Much better."
Brittany turned Santana and she heard her giggle.
"What?" Brittany asked with curious amusement.
"The Christmas tree. It looks like the leaning tower of Pisa," Santana chuckled. "It looks like it's about to give up and lay down."
Brittany pulled Santana to the couch and guided her to lay on top of her.
"It's got the right idea," Brittany replied.
Santana woke up with Brittany and a blanket on top of her and the midday sun bothering her eyes.
"Good nap?" Brittany asked with a kiss to Santana's cheek.
"Uh huh," Santana replied with a sated smile. "Good dance."
"I like dancing with you," Brittany whispered and shifted her legs against Santana's.
"Me too," Santana agreed.
"We still have to fix and decorate the tree," Brittany sighed.
"We do," Santana said as she tucked a lock of hair behind Brittany's ear. "But maybe after that we could dance some more?"
"I'd like that," Brittany replied.
Christmas morning, Santana and Brittany sat in front of their tree, decorated with ribbons, Pierce family ornaments and pine cone angels. The mulled apple cider warmed in the kitchen. The smell of cinnamon and clove-stuff orange mixed with the scent of pine and crackling wood fire. Santana opened her presents, and gushed at the new lambs wool lined boots and silver pine cone hat pin. Brittany carefully placed the film in her the camera Santana gave her, and pulled Santana close to her. Santana leaned her head on Brittany's shoulder and smiled as Brittany held out the camera in front of them and pressed the shutter button.
A few weeks later, a manilla envelope marked "Kodak" arrived at the mill office. Santana carefully opened the envelope and pulled away the tissue paper to reveal the pictures Brittany took at Christmas.
Santana tucked the pictures away and found an old empty picture frame in a box in the back of the spare bedroom closet the next day. She mounted the picture and set the frame on the nightstand next to their bed. That night, Santana sat up in bed and waited for Brittany to arrive. Brittany got changed into her pajamas and got into bed next to Santana. She turned to switch off the light, and saw their smiling faces, framed in glass and wood.
"That's us," Brittany whispered in amazement.
She picked up the frame and held it between them, staring at the picture.
It was the first picture Brittany and Santana had of themselves. Together. Brittany's eyes watered as she smiled. It was proof. Tangible proof of their relationship. It always felt like living a dream. Their friendship and secret love lived day to day for nearly three years. But to see the dream captured; happy, together, in love, was overwhelming, in the best of ways.