Your arms are flung around Brittany's neck, and she holds your waist, she holds you close to her, the two of your swaying under twinkling white lights, the two of you swaying in the middle of the place where her life began, and the place that now marks the beginning of the rest of your lives together. It's late, it's really late, and at some point, your friends and family have stopped singing up on stage, and someone has plugged their iPod into the speaker system. Most of your guests have gone home, wishing you and Brittany, you and your wife the very best of wishes before they headed out, and those that remain are helping to un-assemble the wedding decor. But you don't stop dancing, you never want to stop dancing, because you're in Brittany's arms, and that's where you want to remain, for an infinite amount of time. Your wedding day is ending, but your marriage is just beginning, and for as long as you can, you want to savor the day that will forever mark your union.
Tearing your eyes away from Brittany's for just a moment, you watch your mom and your abuela work together to unwind a string of lights from a beam, and you smile softly in their direction, heart thumping quick against Brittany's when the woman you'd believed would never be standing in this place smiles back and nods to you. It seems surreal, all of this, it seems like a place you'd never even dared to imagine when you were sixteen and afraid of everything, but the new weight of the glittering band on your left finger reminds you it's real, reminds you that you've made it, reminds you how truly happy you are. Brittany's watching you, you feel her eyes studying your face, and you turn your attention back to her, pressing up on your toes, since your shoes have been long discarded, and with both of you barefoot, she's much taller than you again, and you kiss her lips, letting the moment longer for a long, long time.
"It's late." She whispers to you, her fingers caressing the small of your back.
"It is." You affirm, playing with the ends of her hair. "We've been dancing for hours."
"We're going to be dancing for the rest of our lives. You and me, my pretty wife."
"Wife." You repeat, and butterflies erupt low in your belly again. "You're my wife, and I'm yours."
"Pretty cool, huh?"
"The coolest. Do you want to go?"
"Only if you do." She tells you, making no move to stop dancing.
"One more song, one more dance, tonight."
The song changes, and you keep your position, wrapped in each other, the lyrics to the song reflecting the way you move together, honey now take me into your loving arms, kiss me under the light of a thousand stars, place your head on my beating heart. You could stay like this forever, you're sure, and you wouldn't complain, you're safe, you're happy, you're so, so incredibly loved by this woman, and you love her as much in return. You don't stop looking at her, you can't, really, not through your last dance on the first night of the rest of eternity, and she's starting past your eyes, she's staring into your being, like she's seeing every moment you've shared so far, and every moment you haven't had yet. As the song slowly draws to a close, she finds your lips again, oh, baby, we found love right where we are, and we found love right where we are, and you're smiling into it, before you seek out her hand, and you tangle your fingers together. You're ready to go, you're ready to have her all to yourself, you're ready to go to bed with her, to lie with your wife, to love her in ways that you most definitely can't until you're alone.
She's leading you to say goodbye to your families, and you smile at them, looking down, a little bashful, because they all know it's your wedding night, and, it only takes about three seconds before Whitney is making a joke, getting Pierce riled up. You shield your red face in Brittany's neck and she rolls her eyes and scolds them, holding you closely, protectively, as she does. You move to your family, and you promise abuela that you'll call her, you promise your parents that you'll drive safely back to Ohio in the morning- or, afternoon, maybe, you think- and you're giggly, bubbly, drunk on champagne, on Brittany, on sheer bliss, when you make your way out to the black car that's been sitting in wait for the two of you, each of you carrying your shoes, and hanging on each other as you get in the back seat.
It's only a twenty minute drive to the hotel, just some privately owned hotel, where almost everyone you've ever met is staying too, but on the drive, you've managed to tangle yourself almost completely in Brittany, legs and arms and fingers melding together. When you arrive, Brittany insists on grabbing the small bags you've each packed from the trunk, but you still remain pressed against her as she takes them, not ready quite yet to distance yourself physically. You're the happiest you've ever been in your life, you're the happiest, perhaps, that anyone has ever been in any life, and you want to keep soaking in that source of happiness.
"Lopez-Pierce." Brittany tells the concierge at check in, and your heart flutters again. You've checked into a lot of hotels together in your time traveling, but it's always been Lopez or Pierce. You have always been Santana Lopez, and she has always been Brittany Pierce, but now, you're not only sharing your life with her, but also your last name, and it's hard not to burst into a fit of laughter at your wonderment over that.
"Lopez-Pierce." You whisper in her ear, wanting a chance to say it too.
"Lopez-Pierce." She tells you back, her teeth all showing and her eyes shining. "Me and my wife, the Lopez-Pierces."
She has the room key in her hand, your bags slung over her shoulder, and your hand in the other, and you head to the elevator, kissing her slow, soft, as soon as the doors close behind you, unable to wait another second, after the excitement at the counter to express your love. Brittany kisses back, lashes fluttering when you bring your hand up to cup her cheek, and you stay like that, just drinking each other in, until you reach your floor, and you tug her out. When she unlocks the door to your room, she tosses the bags through, and before you even register what's happening, she scoops you up in her arms, making you gasp in shock.
"Britt, what are you doing?" You giggle, holding onto her neck.
"Carrying you over the threshold, obviously." She raises her eyebrows.
"I think you're supposed to do that at our house, not the hotel room."
"Well, we don't have a house." She laughs, and you laugh harder, and she stumbles though, never letting her grip on you falter. "Guess I'll have to do this everywhere we stay until we find one."
You don't argue with that, not as she sets you right on your feet again, not as you take in the lilies, and the champagne, and the turned down bed that appears before you when Brittany flicks on the light. It's beautiful, and it's special, and she shrugs a little when your eyes meet hers, and you swoon, because she's sheer perfection, and even in her frenzied panic before the wedding, she'd still managed to think of everything. You run you hands up and down her arms, telling her without words just how wonderful she is, and she takes your hands, holding them tightly, looking deep into your eyes. There's a palatable shift in the air when you stand like that, and you feel tears prick at the back of your eyes. You're standing here, in this hotel room, with your wife, for the very first time. Where you'd felt fluttery only a few moments earlier, a somberness overtakes you. It doesn't matter if you've felt married from the moment you'd gotten back together, or that you'd pretended, once or twice, on your long vacation, this time, it's just the two of you, and you actually are. At the thought, your knees weaken, and because Brittany knows you so well, she holds you tighter, steadying you on your feet.
"I love you." She tells you, brushing kisses over your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids. "I love you."
"I love you." You murmur back, thumbs running over the veins in the back of her hands. "I love you, and we're married."
"We are." She grins, breaking the trance you've fallen into.
For a long time, you're just frozen on your feet, trading soft kisses and sweet words, making no move toward anything else. But slowly, slowly, hands begin to wander, and when she pulls you close, you feel tips of her fingers ghost over your spine, until they toy with the zipper of your jumpsuit. Your whole body is on fire as you kiss her fiercely, kiss her until you can hardly breathe, and she slides the zipper down, and the fabric falls, gathering at your waist as you stand topless in her arms. In that moment, you forget about the expensive bridal lingerie that's still wrapped in paper in your bag by the door, and you give yourself to her, to your wife, fully, and feel her give herself to you in return. You take your time undressing each other, your hands caressing every contour of her skin as you lift her dress over her head, and your lips savoring her neck, her clavicle, her newly bared chest. She makes your head spin, she always has, but more so than ever, knowing you are about to make love for the first time as wives. You're both fully naked when you back up, and your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you fall back, pulling her down with you.
She presses up on her hands and hovers above you, her long hair curtaining your head, and her blue eyes search within you, as if she's seeing you for the first time. And then, looking back at her, you realize, maybe she is, maybe in this new light of marriage, you're both seeing each other in this way for the first time. You're lightheaded, and you tilt your head up, capturing her mouth, caressing her tongue with yours, and sighing breathlessly as her fingers tickle the sensitive skin of your sides. You want all of her, all at once, and you can feel that Brittany wants you just the same, and skin on skin, you think you might possibly explode. She's quicker than you are, sometimes, and when her fingers trace up the inside of your thighs, you know you're a goner. You kiss her, kiss her, kiss her as she works her fingers inside of you, and she moves so slowly, so reverently, even as you keen and whimper, even as you cry out her name, and declare, quite possibly, to the entire state of Indiana, just how much you love her.
Brittany doesn't stop until you're seeing stars, and when you catch your breath, she's looking at you as if you'd hung the moon. Her eyes are dark, and her lips swollen from kissing you, and even with jellied limbs, you manage to ease her onto her back and kiss your way down her body, making your way between her legs. Her hand rests gently between your shoulder blades, and you look up to watch her watch you, you're favorite sight in the world, Brittany's blonde hair splayed across the pillow, and her face painted with an adoration for you that you've never, ever seen elsewhere. You kiss the inside of her thighs, and the noises she makes, her squeaks and whimpers and moans never fail to spur you on. The entire time you work your mouth against her, your eyes remain locked, and in desperation, she finds your hand, squeezing tight, anchoring herself to you when she comes. You're gentle with her after, and she still trembles, even as she pulls you back up, and you lie your whole weight on top of her, kissing her mouth again, feeling her soft moan in her throat, and the tickle of her eyelashes as you rest your damp, sweaty forehead on hers.
Everything feels soft, and blissful when she holds you tight, and you're afraid to close your eyes, because maybe you'll wake up and find out this was all a dream, you'll find out that your most perfect day hadn't happened. Brittany smiles against your neck though, like she's reading your mind, and you smile back, the tangibility of her breath, of skin on skin contact, of the tickling of your wife's fingers on the small of your back reminding you that this exists in reality. You married her, she married you, the bands on your fingers tell the world that you are joined, infinitely, with the love of your life, and even through your exhaustion after seventeen hours of preparing, dressing, dancing, and lovemaking, those butterflies are back. You're married, your dreams came true, and now, as you grow closer and closer to sleep, wrapped in the naked embrace of Brittany Susan now Lopez-Pierce, you're certain that the best is only just beginning.
