Author's Note: Okay, so I know I said I wasn't going to write more in this 'verse, but I wrote this tiny li'l drabble a while ago as a present to a friend, and well here we are.
A typical Friday night in Seattle: chilly with a side of rain, the moon peeking through the clouds at the scene below, and Santana regretting for the hundredth time that she hadn't brought a coat.
She shivered on the sidewalk as she waited for Brittany outside the bar they'd chosen for their first… hang-out? super-casual drinking hour? She didn't want to think of it as a date. Bourbon tasting? Yes. Date? No.
At least they were in Ballard, far far away from the douchebros and hipsters on Capitol Hill. And hopefully this bar would have a good selection of drinks that didn't have the words "artisanal", "infusion", or "tincture" in their descriptions. She shivered again. She just wanted a good old fashioned drink, from a bartender who wasn't going to set it on fire—
"Santana? You must be freezing!"
She turned just in time to be enveloped in warmth, courtesy of Brittany, whose arms had wrapped around her and drawn her close. Brittany had been smart enough to wear a coat, but as Santana stood there, soaking Brittany in, she wondered if neglecting hers had been such a bad idea after all.