The world is round and

the place which may seem

like the end may also be only

the beginning.

-Ivy Baker Priest


It has been a month since Brittany began to consider it.

It has been a month of thinking and gliding through the days as best she could.

It has been a month, and she has finally made her decision: she is going to do it.

(She just can't take it anymore.)

It's Friday morning, after getting her progress report from Ms. Bletheim, which shows her still failing algebra II, when she makes the decision, when she is sure. She makes it through the rest of the day, with only that on her mind.

She spends the night with her family, eating dinner and then sitting in front of the TV until her little sister's bedtime, when she leads her up to her bedroom, tucks her in bed and gives her a sweet goodnight before exiting the room. She moves down the hallway, catching a spec of her parents voices as she disappears into her own room. With her door securely shut, she takes a seat at her desk, grabs a blue crayon and piece of paper and starts to write.

When her letter is complete, she folds it and slips it into the envelope she grabbed from the kitchen earlier. With it resting safely atop her desk, she turns out the light and crawls into her bed, next to her favorite cat. She presses play on the remote to start their favorite movie before looking over at him. He looks right back—dark, loving, steady eyes focused solely on her—and she feels like he understands. (He's the one that always understands.)


She wakes up early Saturday morning, even though she has plenty of time. Her cellphone is the first thing she grabs, along with earphones, because it's the most important—for it holds all of her music and favorite pictures. Next, she grabs her secret stash of money and swipes the envelope from her desk and heads downstairs.

She leaves the letter in the kitchen pantry, third shelf down, a place she knows her mom won't look until the end of the day when she starts dinner, and heads out the door.

She climbs into the taxi waiting on the curb and asks the driver to take her to the airport.

"No bags?" he asks.

"No bags," she repeats.


Brittany has been on an airplane a few times before, when she was younger, but not recently and never by herself. She isn't exactly sure how everything works, but she's made a promise to herself that this will be the perfect day and she won't fret.

The taxi stops on the road right in front of the building; the driver reads her the cost, she pays, and then he's off. She takes her time crossing the busy sidewalk, content with her slow pace as she watches everything move around her. It seems strange how everyone is rushing around, so desperate to get to wherever it is they're headed; people fast-walk in and out of the automatic sliding doors and across the street where cars are inching their way forward impatiently. A few people give her dirty looks as they push past her, but she just smiles all the same. (Some people actually smile back, but most don't even notice as they rush past).

When she makes it through the doors, the first sign she sees is American Airlines; she decides it's as good as anything and joins the line. It only takes about ten minutes until she's at the front of the line and a woman is waving her over.

"How may I help you today?" the woman asks.

Brittany smiles at the women's friendliness and says, "I want to go to New York."

"New York City?" Brittany pauses a moment before nodding. The woman smiles. "Okay, let's see what we've got."


Brittany spends $350 on a one-way plane ticket to New York City, and then the woman kindly directs her to her gate.

As she enters the terminal, people begin to slow. It's the opposite of how it was outside: the majority of the people are relaxing while only a few are rushing down the walkway. Nobody pays mind to her as she makes her way to gate A5, where the woman told her to go.

It ends up being one of the more crowded ones. She looks at the flight number on the screen—1430—and checks her ticket, which also reads 1430, and then takes a seat at the free spot at the charging station in front of her.

Her flight is at 7:10 am., and it's only 6:50, so she sits and she waits.


The plane has open seating, so Brittany walks back tentatively until she finds an empty seat next to a nice-looking older couple. She gets the aisle seat, preventing her a good view out the window, which she finds slightly disappointing.

She's surprised when the older man notices.

"Would you like the window seat?" he asks. The woman between them smiles, also waiting for her answer.

"Oh," she says, looking at the two before giving a slight nod. "I would."

"Come on, we'll switch."

Brittany gets up and moves into the aisle; the man follows, shuffling past his wife to stand next to Brittany. Brittany squeezes past the woman and takes her new seat by the window.

Before she can get out a thank you, the woman asks, "Are you heading to New York?"

"That's the plan," she answers. "How about you?"

"Us, too," the man cuts in, followed by "We're going to see our granddaughter," from his wife.

Brittany smiles; they are some of the nicest people she has ever met.


Brittany parts ways with her company from the plane when they head for the baggage area. She exits the airport with no idea where to go (but she still isn't worried).

A taxi stops on the curb in front of her and she climbs in.

"Where to?" the driver asks.

"Somewhere nice," is her answer. The driver looks at her through the mirror, as if trying to figure out if she's serious or not. After a moment, he smiles and pulls away from the curb.

Somewhere nice ends up being Madison square Park, which is, indeed, very nice (and very crowded).

Brittany pays the driver, receives Have a nice day in return, and then begins to wander about.

She loves the scene around her: the trees surrounding her, standing tall and steady in the light breeze. The people around her seem like more than all of Lima, Ohio as a whole; some are walking, some jogging, some sitting on benches and feeding the birds, and some simply relaxing on the grass.

And then she pauses, having spotted something—someone—that takes her breath away.

She's laughing, Brittany notices, so the guy across from her must have said something funny; she thinks it looks really good on her, and wishes she was close enough to hear the sound. Before the thought is even fully processed through her mind, she's moving again; her legs are taking her to the girl.

(It's her perfect day and she's going to do whatever she wants.)

Now she's standing there, smile on her face, in front of the two strangers sitting in the grass. The girl she's having trouble taking her eyes off of is wearing a loose gray shirt with sweatpants, and the guy across from her is wearing black jeans with a gray vest over a white long-sleeved shirt. She thinks they both look amazing.

Their silence upon her arrival surprises her. She isn't used to it, people pausing for her, seeing as when she has tried going up to a group any time before they just ignored her.

"Hi," the guy says, curious. "Can we help you?"

It takes her a moment, she glances over to catch the girls expression just before it fades, but then she speaks: "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to say..." She trails off, looking to the girl again. "I just wanted to say that you are the most unimaginably beautiful girl I have ever seen."

While the guy lets out a surprised laugh, the girl sits, unmoving, and looks back at Brittany with wide eyes. Brittany stands there a moment longer and glances between the two once more before turning to continue her wandering. As she walks away, she notices how fast her heart is beating (but it feels sort of good).

"Hey, wait!"

Brittany turns back just in time to see the girl stand up fully. "Why—" She clears her throat, looking at Brittany nervously. "Why don't you join us?"

Brittany smiles.


"So, what's your name?" the guy asks as Brittany settles into the grass.

"Brittany S. Pierce," she tells him.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Kurt and the beautiful one here is Santana."

Santana, Brittany thinks to herself, looking over at her. Santana rolls her eyes, but Brittany can tell she's trying her best to suppress a smile.

"Are you from around here?" Kurt questions, looking at Brittany with a curious grin.

"New York?" Brittany shakes her head. "Nope."

"Well then, Brittany, what brings you to New York?"

She shrugs. "It seems like a good place to have a good day."

"That it is," Kurt agrees.

Conversation flows surprisingly well between Brittany and Kurt, and half of what she says seems to amuse him. He brings Santana up here and there, but she hasn't said anything since asking Brittany to stay. And even though Brittany seldom takes her eyes from Santana, she is by no means ignoring Kurt—his inquisitiveness all but astounds her, seeing as normally nobody will give her the time of day—but the wonder that is Santana demands her attention.

"Alright, ladies," Kurt eventually says. "It's time for me to go."

"What?" Santana finally speaks. "But you don't have class today. Or work."

"Rachel has planned shopping," Kurt explains, standing up and moving to wipe the grass from his clothes. "I can't believe I let you convince me to sit in the grass nearly every day—I got an awful grass stain on my pants last week!"

"Oh, calm down fairy boy," Santana retorts. Kurt rolls his eyes and looks to Brittany.

"It was nice to have met you, Brittany," he says. "I'm sorry I have to rush off so soon."

"No, it's fine," Brittany assures. "I enjoyed talking to you and I hope you have fun with your friend."

"Oh, I'm sure I will," he laughs. "And I hope you have fun with Santana." And then he takes off, leaving Brittany to watch Santana as she watches him go.

When Santana turns back to Brittany, she catches sight of her eyes and Santana immediately looks to her lap. Brittany sits, watching and waiting patiently. A short time later, Santana glances up and Brittany smiles.

Suddenly, she twists to lie in the grass next to Santana. Santana slowly looks over to find Brittany looking right back, still smiling. They're silent for a moment, observing one another.

"What?" Santana manages. Her voice is low, hesitant.

Brittany holds back a laugh and asks, "Are you going to talk to me now?"

"Sorry, I—" Santana shakes her head and laughs nervously; Brittany only smiles brighter.

Brittany says nothing as she admires Santana and lets her gather herself. She does, however, glide a hand across the grass leisurely until it reaches Santana. Carefully, she taps her fingers against Santana's leg. Santana promptly turns and meets her eyes; she gets the hint when Brittany shifts her eyes and gently lies back.

"Are you always this quiet?" Brittany inquires.

"No," Santana answers. "Not at all. I don't... I don't know." She laughs again, playing with her hands. "Nobody's ever said anything like that to me."

Brittany shifts, sitting up a little, but Santana doesn't look her way. "Like what?"

"Like what you said." Her voice comes out low, only just enough for Brittany to hear. "About me... being beautiful."

"That can't be true," Brittany objects. Santana nods. "No one has ever told you how beautiful you are?" Brittany can't fathom it.

"I mean, kind of. But never like that; not like you."

"That's crazy." A pause. "You should be told every day, all the time—because, I mean, you are so gorgeous." Brittany sees Santana swallow.

Brittany gazes over at her as she looks up to the sky and they let silence come over them again. Brittany settles back into the grass and asks, "Do you like watching the clouds or watching the stars better?"

"Uh... I don't know," Santana replies. When Brittany says nothing more, Santana speaks again: "Why are we lying in the grass?"

Her answer is a bit delayed, because Santana is finally looking at her. "Why not?" She shrugs against the grass and Santana laughs. The sound is even more perfect than how she imagined it would be.

"How long have you been friends with Kurt?"

"A long time," Santana replies. She takes a moment to think before she adds, "We've known each other since, like, middle school. He's a good friend, but don't tell him I said that." Brittany can't help but smile, pleased with herself for getting Santana talking.

"Your secret is safe with me," Brittany promises.

Santana gives a nod, a satisfied little smile tugging at her lips. "Good."

"Cute," Brittany mumbles, looking her over, but she doesn't think Santana hears so she moves on. "Is Rachel your friend, too?"

"God, no," Santana scoffs, but then looks to the sky and admits: "Okay, maybe." Brittany believes more than anything she has met the cutest person in the universe.

"Don't laugh!" Santana scolds, laughing herself. "You'd understand if you met her. I'm sure you have an annoying-ass hobbit friend somewhere, too." Brittany's smile falters for a moment, but quickly returns as Santana rambles on. "Well, aside from the hobbit part, because, seriously, she's tiny." Santana bites her lip and looks at Brittany. "I'm rambling."

"Yes, you are," Brittany agrees.

"Sorry," Santana apologizes, shy again.

"No, keep going," Brittany insists. "Tell me more about your friends—or you. Tell me about you."

"What about me?"

"Whatever you want to share." Because really, she wants to know everything.

"I guess it's pretty obvious I live in New York," Santana starts, "but, uhm, I go to NYU. And the rest is pretty boring."

"You don't seem boring," Brittany says honestly. Santana looks away again and shrugs. "What else?"

"Well, I am friends with some of the gayest people ever."

"Kurt?"

"Yes, definitely. He's, like, queen of gay."

Brittany laughs. "And you?"

Santana peeks over before fully looking at Brittany again. "Enough about me," she decides. "Your turn."

"You're reflecting," Brittany accuses.

Santana looks at her for a second, then guesses, "Deflecting?"

"You're deflecting."

"I am not," Santana denies. Brittany rolls into Santana playfully, but lets it go.

"My turn?" she repeats. It doesn't sound nearly as appealing to her, but Santana nods. "There's not much to say about me." She wishes there was something, just so she could tell Santana, but she can't think of anything.

"That's not fair," Santana complains, beginning to sit up. "You have to tell me something." Brittany blurts out the only thing she can think of to prevent Santana from getting up. "Dancing?"

Brittany nods and confirms, "I like to dance."

"Okay," Santana accepts, reclining to the ground. "What else?"

"I'd rather learn more about you," Brittany confesses.

"No, come on," Santana insists, and then, "Why did you decide to come over to Kurt and I?"

"You," Brittany answers simply.

"Me?"

"Like I said: I saw you, and I wanted to let you know how beautiful you are." Santana bites her lip and glances away again. Brittany takes the chance to turn things back on Santana. "Why'd you ask me to join you?"

Santana turns to her, face scrunched up slightly. Her face softens as she looks over Brittany's face. "I couldn't just let you walk away," she says. Brittany can't stop her ears from liking the words, her everything from liking Santana.

Brittany is used to silence, but never has it felt so wonderful in the company of someone else. She gently maneuvers her pinkie around Santana's and watches as she gazes back at her timidly.

"Would you hang out with me, Santana?" she wonders.

"Isn't that kinda what we're doing now?" Santana questions.

"Well yeah," Brittany admits. "But I meant if I get up and walk away, will you come with me?"

Santana looks at her and Brittany almost expects her to say no. (She wouldn't be surprised.)

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

Santana sits up. "Yeah," she repeats. "Where do you want to go?" Brittany doesn't try to stop the wide smile spreading across her face as she sits up next to Santana.

"I don't know," Brittany laughs. "I've never been to New York before."

Santana playfully rolls her eyes and stands up, pulling Brittany with her. "Are you hungry?" Brittany nods. "Well then I say we eat."

"Lead the way," Brittany says, motioning forward, and Santana does.


They walk breezily as Santana leads Brittany away from their spot in the grass. Brittany doesn't know where Santana is taking her, but she doesn't ask, just follows. (She's starting to think she'd follow Santana anywhere.)

And then, just a few feet away, Brittany notices a small crowd as music invades her ears.

"Santana!" she exclaims, grabbing Santana's hand to stop her from walking any farther, eyes fixated on the blonde guy playing a guitar at the center of the crowd. Santana backtracks to Brittany's side, following her eyes to the guy playing the guitar. A second later, Brittany is dragging Santana closer; the guy with the guitar smiles at them as he plays.

Brittany looks over to Santana, eyes bright with excitement, but then she notices Santana staring at the guitar guy's lips. It causes her eyebrows to scrunch slightly, and her stomach to twitch; she doesn't like it so much.

Santana looks over, and it must be clear on Brittany's face, because she leans over and justifies, "His lips are ginormous." She laughs, because they are kind of big.

She looks from the guy with the guitar back to Santana, the music infecting her senses, and all but begs, "Dance with me, please?" Santana laughs, nervous, and agrees. Brittany beams at her, reaching for her other hand.

Brittany is beyond enthralled. She hardly ever gets to dance with anyone, let alone someone as amazing as Santana. It's happening, though, and she knows it's already the perfect day.

(Just a moment with Santana would have made her happy.)

Santana's laughing, and letting Brittany lead her all around the guy with the guitar, who seems even more enthusiastic than when she first saw him, and through the crowd. The seemingly small crowd is unexpectedly loud, so when Santana begins to hum, Brittany can scarcely hear it. The humming, on top of her smile, eggs Brittany on: she begins to sing along.

"Hey there Delilah, I've got so much left to say"

She leans in close, to hear Santana's humming, and gazes at her without looking away.

"even more in love with me you'd fall..."

And it's not long before she hears Santana begin to sing, too; she falters in her step, dazed by the sound. She smiles at her in awe, but Santana doesn't seem to notice. When Brittany catches sight of the guy with the guitar, though, he winks at her.

"Oh, it's what you do to me..."


The song comes to its end and the crowd claps and drops money into the guitar case on the ground before beginning to dissipate. Some give their compliments, to Brittany and Santana as well as the guy with the guitar. Brittany laughs at a shy Santana, who's leaning into her side.

"That was awesome," the guy with the guitar says as the crowd clears. "Thanks."

"That singing was definitely not boring," Brittany tells Santana, who shrugs and looks away. (The dancing was also definitely not boring.)

The guy with the guitar glances up at them with a laugh. He pauses in putting his guitar away and says, "You can have some of it, if you want," gesturing to the money left in the case.

"Oh, no," Santana says, shaking her head. "We couldn't," Brittany finishes.

He nods and says, "I'm Sam, by the way."

"Brittany," Brittany says. "And this is Santana."

"It's nice to meet you both," he says. "You were great."

"So were you," Santana returns. Sam secures the guitar in its case before looking back up.

"We were about to get something to eat, if you want to come," Brittany offers.

Sam smiles. "I'd love to."


Brittany insists on paying for lunch. When Santana and Sam finally agree, the guy behind the window snatches the money from Brittany and shoves their food forward. The place is so crowded with people that there are no available tables, so they end up back in the grass.

"So are you two from around here?" Sam asks before taking a bite of his burger.

Santana's mouth is full of vanilla shake, so Brittany answers, "She is, I'm not," before taking a sip of her own.

Sam nods. "What are you doing in New York?"

"This," Brittany replies.

"This?" Sam says, glancing to Santana.

"She's here to do whatever," Santana clarifies, sharing a smile with Brittany as she nods. "Slow down, Trouty Mouth; food's not going anywhere," she adds.

Brittany laughs and Sam swallows his food, glaring at Santana. "Nice," he says slowly, grinning. "So how long have you two known each other?"


They end up back on their feet soon after they finish their meals, making their way down the walkway.

"That was amazing," Sam raves. "I can't believe I've never been there before."

"So you've said," Santana laughs.

"You've introduced us to a whole new world of food!" Brittany proclaims.

Santana laughs again, shaking her head. "Are you sure you two have never met before?"

"Are you sure you two have never—" Sam starts, but then Brittany all but yells "Oh!" and sprints forward. She stops in front of a man with a cart, and before Sam and Santana can catch up, she's running back.

She halts in front of Santana, smiling. Santana opens her mouth in question, but then Brittany is presenting her a rose and her mouth snaps shut.

"For you," Brittany says when she doesn't take it.

Sam leans over and whispers, "I think she wants you to take it." Santana elbows him before slipping the rose from Brittany's fingers.

Brittany falls back to Santana's side and they resume their walk, slower. Her smile grows when she catches Santana trying to discreetly smell the rose.

After walking just a few feet farther, they come across an artist drawing caricatures. Brittany and Sam rush over; Santana follows them, but refuses being drawn—and then Brittany pouts.

They take their positions in front of the man, Brittany and Santana sitting side by side with Sam standing behind them. Brittany is certain they only need two, but Santana is adamant that they need three so each of them can have one. They sit around for two more drawings, ending with Brittany planting a kiss on Santana's cheek. (Brittany thinks she sees Santana blush.)

Brittany pays for all three, giving Sam the one that they are drawn as superheros, Santana the last one, and keeping the first for herself even though she plans to give that one to Santana, too. (She won't need it, but maybe it will help Santana remember her.)

(She thinks, for a moment, about what Santana would think of her decision.)

They spend another few hours together, asking more questions and spontaneously performing once for a small crowd, and then Sam makes his departure—but not before he awkwardly asks for their numbers. Santana writes hers in pen on his arm.

When he's out of sight, Santana asks, "What do you want to do now?"

They walk a few more steps before Brittany answers. "I want to take you to dinner."

Santana stops. "What?"

Brittany betrays herself, getting slightly nervous as she speaks again. "I really want to take you. To dinner. Like, on a date..."

"I can't believe you got me to run around with you in sweats all day," Santana says, "but there is no way I'm going to dinner like this."

(She should have expected this.)

"Oh."

"No," Santana says hastily. "No, I mean yes. My answer is yes. But you have to let me change first."

(Really?)

Brittany smiles exuberantly. "Okay."

(Really?)


Santana hails a cab for them; they climb in and Santana tells the driver where to go.

When she notices Brittany staring at her, she asks, "What?"

"You really don't have to change, you know," Brittany says. She loves the way Santana looks right now. Besides, all she's wearing is green pants and a white, pink-starred hoodie.

"Yes, I do," Santana argues. Brittany bites her lip and shakes her head.

She focuses back on Santana, who is still looking her way, and glances to her lips. She drags her eyes away, but there's something about the way Santana's looking at her, and it's her perfect day, so she goes for it.

She sighs as her lips meet Santana's.


Santana unlocks the door and she and Brittany enter her apartment. Brittany closes the door slowly, taking in her surroundings. She's in Santana's house. Santana who she just kissed. Santana who she's taking on a date.

(Her perfect day is going perfectly.)

"This is nice," Brittany compliments.

Santana smiles. "I'll give you a tour if you want, after I get changed."

"Awesome," Brittany says, following Santana into the kitchen.

Without a word, Santana opens a cabinet, pulls out a glass, and walks to the sink. She fills the glass with water, sets it next to the sink, and gently drops her rose in. Brittany smiles as they soundlessly move to a bedroom.

"Give me a minute, okay?" Santana says. Brittany nods and watches Santana disappear into the bathroom.

She gazes around the room she assumes is Santana's. There is a slightly messy desk and cluttered bookshelf to the right; a window with a blue and red blanket hanging over it, causing the room to be slightly darker than the rest of the house, on the far wall; and the bed next to it on the left. The bed sits in the corner instead of the middle like she'd expect it to be, and it's smaller than hers at home, but it looks a thousand times cozier. And on top of the white comforter, just below the pillows, is the fluffiest blanket Brittany has ever seen.

She glides over to the bed and becomes even more mesmerized when her fingers sink into the black and white strands.

"Shit."

Brittany twists around and finds Santana standing behind her, a white fabric dangling from her fingers. "Hmm," Brittany hums, gawking at black lace and exposed skin. "Hey."

"Hi," Santana squeaks out. Brittany's eyes snap up.

"What're you..." Brittany licks her lips, keeping blue fixed on brown. She forgot what she was going to say.

Santana jerks, suddenly pulling the fabric over her skin, pushing her arms through holes. "I forgot..." she trails off, buttoning up her shirt. "I thought you might like this, she says, a little steadier.

"I like it," Brittany confirms, because she totally does.

Santana laughs awkwardly. "I planned on being fully dressed, but..."

All Brittany can do is shake her head, and look at Santana's lips, because she really wants to kiss her again. She steps forward. Santana lifts up on her toes, and Brittany waits patiently as she leans in.

A breath away, Santana stops, grasps Brittany's shirt, and asks, "Can I kiss you?"

Brittany responds by leaning in the rest of the way, and Santana takes in a sharp breath as their lips press together. Brittany grips Santana's hips to steady her. Santana's hands move to the back of Brittany's neck, and Brittany slips her fingers past the material of Santana's shirt.

Brittany parts her lips as Santana shuffles closer, allowing her to take control. Santana's tongue slides into her mouth and she kisses harder, taking in the warmth. Her hands wander up Santana's sides, over her back. Santana moans.

And then she breaks the kiss, leaving no time for questions as she pushes Brittany backwards. They stop when Brittany's legs meet the bed and she plops down. There's a pause, Santana standing in front of her, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

Brittany tugs on her shirt, pulling her down and reconnecting their lips.

They spend a good ten minutes making out before Brittany pulls back.

"Date," she whispers into Santana's lips.

Santana nods, agreeing, but continues to kiss her.

Brittany almost gives in, part of her wanting to just keep kissing Santana, but then they break apart, breathing hard. Santana drops her head to Brittany's neck, hands tight on her waist, and they sit.

Brittany nudges Santana and gives her a quick kiss, followed by a stroke down her back, and scoots back to lie on the bed.

Santana follows and curls into Brittany's side, arm resting against her ribs. Brittany shifts her arm over and Santana rests her head on Brittany's shoulder. Brittany notices how Santana's breath slows, and she almost wants to let her sleep, but they have a date.

(It's her perfect day and she needs her perfect date.)

"I'm still taking you to dinner," she says.

Santana lets out a sleepy laugh. "Of course."

Brittany kisses Santana's hair, closes her eyes. "Don't fall asleep on me, okay?"

"No, I won't," Santana mumbles.


Santana falls asleep.

Brittany can tell right away when she does. It's only for twenty minutes, and then Santana's head jerks up.

Brittany just smiles and whispers, "Hey," when Santana meets her eyes. Santana tries to sit up but Brittany holds her in place.

"I'm so sorry," Santana says, biting her lip. "How long was I asleep?"

"Just a few minutes," Brittany tells her.

Santana moves to sit up again and this time Brittany lets her. "We can get ready and go now." She moves to get off the bed. "Do you know where you wanna go?"

Brittany watches her as she walks out of sight, into the bathroom. "I don't know any restaurants here," she says.

"Okay, well..." Santana starts, "I have the perfect place."


Santana takes Brittany to a fancy Italian restaurant that she has no idea the name of.

"I've only been here once," Santana admits when the server leaves. "But they had really good food and I thought you might like it."

"It's nice," Brittany says.

Santana smiles, pleased. "What do you think of New York so far?"

"There's some pretty amazing people here," Brittany says.

"You liked Sam that much, huh?" Santana teases.

"Totally," Brittany agrees. "Almost as much as I like you."

(Santana looks shy again.)

The server returns long enough to break their conversation, refills their drinks, and then leaves.

"Do you regret it?" Brittany questions.

Santana looks at her, her brows beginning to knit together ever so slightly. "Regret what?"

"What happened at your place," Brittany says. "Or almost happened. And spending the day with me."

(This could ruin everything.)

"What?" Santana looks shocked. "No, of course not. Do... do you?"

"Definitely not," she says.


By the end of the date, when they're walking out the door, Brittany is even happier.

(It's her perfect day, it only makes sense to spend it with the perfect person.)

It's dark, and Brittany has no idea what time it is—she hasn't looked at her phone since she met Santana—but they just walk. She doesn't care as long as she gets more time with Santana.

The backs of their hands keep brushing, and, somehow, their fingers end up laced together. Brittany looks over at Santana and squeezes her hand.

Brittany doesn't know how long they have been walking, but before she knows it they are ambling up a small hill. There is a lone tree at the top and Santana guides them over; she settles on the ground against the tree. Brittany glances to where the hill begins to slope down, regarding the city lights in the distance, before sitting with her. Santana leans into Brittany's side, resting her head against her shoulder. Brittany is certain there is no person as amazing as Santana.

"How long are you staying in New York?" Santana asks.

Brittany's not sure how to answer, so she says, "As long as I want."

"Really?" Santana inquires, slow and quiet.

"Yeah," she whispers back.

They fall silent as Brittany runs her fingers through Santana's hair.

Santana's weight becomes heavier against Brittany, her breathing lighter. Brittany wiggles her phone from her pocket, turns it on, checks the time: midnight. She hadn't thought her day would last this long—not that she did all that much planning—but she doesn't mind.

"Santana," she says, quiet.

"Mmm?" Santana humms. Brittany smiles and presses a kiss to her hair.

"Thank you," she whispers.

"F'what?"

"Today, it was perfect."

(Her perfect day.)

"Thank you," Santana murmurs back. Brittany kisses her hair again.

Brittany watches her phone, the minutes ticking by. The screen goes dark, and she realizes she's starting to get a second perfect day.

(This is not what she planned, but she wants every extra moment with Santana she can get.)

She checks her phone again: 12:30. She slips it back into her pocket and waits, for just a moment longer, before trying to pull away from Santana. She's almost to her feet when Santana's eyes flutter open.

"Where'reyu goin'?" she mumbles.

Brittany pauses, kneeling in front of Santana. "I gotta get going."

"Why?" Santana sits up, clears her throat. "I mean, right now?"

Brittany nods.

"You can't stay, for a little while?" Brittany searches her face. (She has to go.)

Brittany stands up. (Santana seems more awake now.)

"Don't go," Santana says.

Brittany looks at her closely. She notices her eyes more than she has all day—she recognizes that sense of comfort she gets from another pair of dark eyes. But there's no way that Santana knows. She can't; Brittany hasn't said anything about it and nobody else knows.

It's hard for her to take in. She loved being around Santana, the way she made her feel all day, but it was her perfect day so it had to be perfect.

But now?

(She's not sure what this means.)

"Brittany?" It's the first time Santana's said her name.

(She loves the way Santana says her name.)

"Okay." Her voice is barely audible, because she feels like something has lodged itself in her throat.

She just crouches a second longer, fixed in her position, and then settles back into the spot next to Santana.

Santana watches her for a moment, then she leans over and, like a magnet, Brittany moves closer, too; Santana kisses her gently. Santana smiles softly before cuddling back into her side, slipping her pinky around Brittany's.

(She lets out a shaky breath.)


The sun is beginning to rise, the sky barely lit with blue, and the air chilly. The sounds are dull, only just building up for the coming day, and Brittany is slowly waking. She doesn't open her eyes right away, she just feels: the goosebumps forming on her arms from the cool air, the bark pressed into her back, the warm breath against her neck, and the weight pushing into her.

It all feels so nice—even if the tree holding her up is starting to get slightly uncomfortable—and when she realizes the source of the warmth blowing into her skin and the heaviness against her, the sensations become a thousand times greater.

She opens her eyes and blinks once, twice, then looks down at Santana. She smiles, and she tightens her arms around her.

Her first thought of the day is I've made it into heaven.