In the few weeks following Brittany's acceptance of Santana's offer for her to move in, Brittany sets to work tying up the loose ends in her current apartment. She sits with Artie and Tina as they interview prospective new roommates—and admittedly, as excited as she is to move in officially with Santana, she feels a small pang of nostalgia as she looks at the girls who sit across the table from them, girls like her when she first moved in, looking to find their dream, looking for a "family," of sorts, while they realize it—she begins packing her things, and she goes on two auditions, neither of which, she gets, but she's comforted by her girlfriend in what's soon to be theirbed both times, and she's reassured that she will,when the right one comes along.
The night before she's finally set to move, Brittany rides her bike up to her new home, and at Santana's insistence, she parks it in the small alley between her house and the one next door, covering it carefully to protect it from any falling snow. They spend that last night apart, Santana working on a big project from the home office, and Brittany having a few final things to get together for the move. Artie and Mike offer to help her with her dozen or so boxes, and Tina, being Tina, tags along in the van that they'd borrowed from Robbie to get everything uptown. It's strange how final it feels for Brittany, watching Kitty, the new girl, set her boxes down on the floor beside what used to be Brittany's bunk, it's strange to know that she'll be the one caught up in Tina and Lauren's crafting, or helping to move a passed out Mike to his bedroom, or filling her place at the breakfast table on the rare Saturday when all of them are home. It's final, and it's nostalgic, but the idea of the beautiful girl waiting uptown for her, the girl she loves, and who loves her in return, is the soothing balm to the sting of an era ending for her. Her dreams may still be in progress, but she's found love in this great big city, and maybe that's the most important thing of all.
Once all of her things are loaded on to the van, and she sits in the back with Artie, who's locked his wheels, and holds onto a strap for extra precaution, they head uptown. It's the first time any of her friends have been to Santana's—no, to their—house, and admittedly, she's a little nervous about her gaggle of friends in a place that's so clean and white. They're not dirty,by any means, despite the fact that they leave their dishes in the sink a day too long, or sometimes use magazines as pizza plates, but Santana, her meticulous Santana, is maybe just a little anal retentive, and she doesn't want their first day living together to be a complete shock to the system for her.
"What'sa matter, Britt?" Artie asks, noticing her furrowed brow. "Having second thoughts about leaving us to become an uptown girl?"
"About the uptown girl thing maybe."She jokes, snapping out of her own head. "Not about moving in with Santana. That's like, the best thing ever. Gonna miss me?"
"I guess."He teases her. "Who's gonna do laundry with me, now that you've got a housekeeperto do yours for you?"
"Correction, Santanahas a housekeeper. I kinda think it's weird for someone else to wash my underwear."
"You think it's weird for someone to washyour underwear, but you woreTina's once?"
"Okay, you promised you'd never talk about that again. It was totally an emergency, I had my unlucky underwear on, and we were already in midtown for my audition!"
"Are you talking about the stupid underwear thing again?" Tina yells back from the front seat. "It was two years ago, and you weren't the one dealing with a superstitious Brittany freakout, okay? You would've done the same thing!"
"Whatever, T, I'm just saying it's not more weird for Britt to let someone wash her underwear than to swap with you."
"Ugh, you're so lucky." She groans. "I wish someone would wash myunderwear."
"Can we just stop talking about who's washing my underwear?"
"Okay, so then let's talk about how you're moving from a bunk bed in our crappy apartment to an actual mansion."
"Let's not and say we did." Brittany clicks her tongue in irritation. "Can you guys just please not be total freaks about this when you're there? There's a reasonI prayed to like, every god I could think of that Lauren didn't come."
"Embarrassed about becoming lady of the manor?" Artie leans over to poke her arm and she lets out a deep sigh.
"Guys, quit it." Mike reprimands from the driver's seat, recalling his conversation with Brittany weeks ago. "Or I'll pull this car over and Tina, you can push Artie home."
"Okay, dad."Tina rolls her eyes at him, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Babe—"
"Don't babeme, Arthur. You, of all people, know that it's a big deal to move in with someone, don't bust her balls when she's nervous."
"I'm not nervous."Brittany lies. "Just everyone quit acting like I'm going to change because I'm moving up there, and like Santana's money is mine or something, because it's not. I work at a fricking Chinese restaurant, alright? Millie probably gets paid more that Ido. Can we just be quietfor the rest of the way?"
Unwilling to suffer the wrath of a stressed out Brittany, they comply with her request, and she contemplates in silence for the duration of their trip. It feels like a growing up of sorts for her, this day, and the idea that at twenty-three years old, she's found the person that she's pretty sure she'll spend the rest of her life with, someone who's older and infinitely more put together than she'll probably ever be. Brittany, in a van full of her old—and oftentimes directionless—roommates, is still feeling quite directionless herself, after the loss of her job, but now, she's got this stability, this anchor, in the woman she loves, and it's a strange feeling, good strange, but strange nonetheless.
When they finally arrive in front of Santana's—no, their—house, Mike gets out and opens the back door for Brittany, and to help Artie down. Brittany is quick to jump out, and careful of the March slush on the sidewalk. Though she has a set of keys, ones Santana had given to her on a silver Tiffany key ring, and engraved with the letter B,something Brittany had rolled her eyes playfully about, before kissing Santana silly, she knocks first, before sliding them into the lock. By the time she gets the door open, Santana is right behind it, smiling at Brittany in super casual jeans and a cashmere sweater, her dark curls tied up in a bandana.
"Hey, roomie." Brown eyes crinkle in soft adoration, and Brittany can't tear her eyes away from the utter sex appealthat is Santana in those frame hugging jeans. The urge she feels to plant a kiss on soft lips is strong, but she can't, not right here, not where the whole neighborhood can see, so instead, she just grins and waggles her eyebrows. "Do you have a lot of stuff?"
"I mean, not really." She shrugs as Santana waves at her friends. "Just, like, a bunch of boxes, a lamp and a chair. The rest of the furniture came with the place, so Kitty totally already took over my digs."
"Well." Santana wrings her hands in front of her as casts her eyes down in the cute way she does. "I've cleared some new digsfor you. If they want to start bringing things in, I can show you."
"Does it mean I can kiss you while you show me?"
"I'd be really offended if you didn't." She pulls her lower lip between her teeth, and Brittany cocks her head over her shoulder.
"Guys, I'll be right back." Brittany calls back, and narrows her eyes at Artie before he can wolf-whistle. "Just start piling stuff in the entryway, until I have a better idea where to put it."
"We'rehauling your seven hundred boxes?" Tina groans. "Why did I agree to this?"
"Because you're nosy and couldn't wait until I invited you over like a civilized person."
"No can do, that'd be a billion years, because you're so sprung on—" Mike's elbow under Tina's ribs cuts off her sentence. "Ow!"
"We got this, Britt."
"Thank you." Santana nods in his direction, though her cheeks are warm. "I picked up some beer, it's in the fridge, and pizza's on me later."
"Sweet! Pepperoni?" Artie grabs a box from Mike and taps the top of it for him to put another one there.
"Whatever you want." Santana laughs, beaming a little at the adoring look on Brittany's face. "Thanks for helping, all of you. We'll be right back."
Without another word, Santana leads Brittany back to the bedroom, and Brittany doesn't hesitate to kick the door closed behind her and step close to Santana. Burying her hands in Santana's back pockets, she pulls her close and kisses a waiting mouth, slipping her tongue inside and breathing in her girlfriend in the bedroom they now share.
"Hi." She smiles when she pulls back, rubbing Santana's nose. "These jeans, babe. Are you trying to get me to jump your bones in front of all my friends?"
"Britt." Santana shakes her head laughing. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously in love with you." Brittany feels her bubbles of anxiety breaking up in Santana's presence, in her—no, their—bedroom. "Also, you know I've seenmy new digs, right?"
"Not all of them, c'mere." With another quick peck to Brittany's lips, Santana leads her over to the closet, revealing that the once over-filled walk-in has been half emptied out, and a dresser that matches the one Santana already had sits beside it, the clothes Brittany had once stashed in herdrawer sitting on top of it.
"Santana, you didn't have to do this. I don't even have that much stuff, I could have just stuck it in the guest room. I know you have way more than enough closets in this place."
"I know you could have, but I didn't wantyou too. I put all my offseason stuff in the guest room closet. This is ourbedroom, not just mine, and I mean it, Britt, I want you to feel at home here, because it isyour home now, with me."
"I love the sound of that." She gives a contented smile. "But what about…are you sure, Santana?"
"I'm sure, Britt." Santana smiles to herself, and Brittany does the same in response. "Wow, I've been really psyched about it all week, and now you're here with all of your stuff. And I know what you were checking on, and God,it makes me love you even more. But Millie knows, at least I think she does. She must. I told her you were moving in. I didn't tell her you were crashing,or staying here.I told her you were moving in, mostly so she wouldn't come across it by surprise, and she didn't say much about it at all, except that she left us a casserole for dinner tonight, and some chocolate chip cookies, because she knows they're your favorite. Like I told you last month, in these four walls, it's you and me."
"You." Brittany leans in, pressing her lips to the shell of Santana's ear. "Are making it reallyhard for me not to throw you down on this bed and have my way with you right now."
"Your friends are right in the next room, baby." She wraps her leg around Brittany's waist and bites down on her pouting bottom lip.
"That's all that's keeping me from it, but I'm going to be a space cadet all day thinking of how lucky you're gonna get later."
"Hmm, is that so? 'Cuz I think I'm pretty lucky already."
"Stop. Out." Pointing to the door, Brittany walks toward it. "You're to cute and I have no self-control."
"So then I should wait until we're alone to show you your surprise then?"
"If it's going to make me tear off your jeans, then yes, you better."
"Okay, horndog." She presses her tongue between her teeth and giggles. "Save the ripping off of the jeans for at leastthis afternoon."
Tapping Brittany's ass as she opens the door, Santana follows her out of the bedroom, to where Mike is still carrying boxes, but Artie and Tina have abandoned their task in favor of nosing about the living room, scoping out where their friend will be living—or, more likely, assessing Santana's wealth. Artie rolls back and forth on the carpet, having wiped his wheels, it seems, much to Brittany's relief, not wanting him to muddy up the carpet and make Santana's head explode.
"Look at this though, Artie." Tina apparently neglects to notice that Brittany and Santana are back in the room. "She's got a VCR. A VCR.This thing is the shiz nitz. I haven't dated women in awhile, but for this chick, I'm down. Think I've got a shot?"
"T, just like you're incapable of dating men who aren't homos, you're incapable of dating woman who aren't psychos. Do I need to remind you of cheerleader chick who got a Davy Jones tattoo and tried to steal a baby? Now move over, lemme see. Brittany better hook her Atari to this TV, it's like forty-two inches."
"I'm telling you right now, Artie, my fingers are capable of things—"
"I don't give a damn what your fingers are capable of. Woman, please, I'm busy here!"
"Making yourselves at home?" Santana announces their presence, and Tina jumps back in surprise.
"We were just…uh…admiring the digs." She stutters, a real one, from her nerves.
"Mhmm." Santana looks over to Brittany, who just shakes her head.
"FYI, Tina, you kinda sound like a dick when you're making plans to steal my girlfriend."
"Not to mention, sorry, you're pretty and all, but you're not my type, and besides…"She trails off, always embarrassed when she talks about her feelings out loud, and particularly in front of people she doesn't know, and who are talking about performing sex acts on her. In response, Brittany puts an arm around her waist and pulls her close, avoiding pressing the kiss she wants to her temple so she doesn't embarrass her further.
"Just step off, Cohen-Chang, or I won't ever invite you over to watch it. And I thought you were helping Mike."
"Psht." Mike huffs, dropping another box in the entryway. "One box each."
"Useless." Brittany rolls her eyes. "Sorry, I'm here now. I can do the rest."
"Did you write on the boxes, ba—Brittany?"
"I didn't." She purses her lips. "Why?"
"So I can sort them into rooms." Santana cocks her head to the side, not quite used to Brittany's disarray.
"Oh…yeah. I didn't really pack them like that. But you can open them if you feel like it."
"I'm not going to go through your stuff…"
"Babe, I've got no secrets from you. You're gonna see it all anyway, and you know I don't care where it ends up. Just, like, you know, tell me and stuff so I don't end up going commando because you're at work and I can't find my underwear."
"I think I can manage that." Santana shakes off the image of Brittany sans underwear, and lifts the package opener from her office that she'd laid on the entryway table, eager to get to work, eager to create some semblance of order in the cluttered hallway that definitelyoverwhelms her.
When Brittany goes outside, deftly slipping her sneakers on and off each time she reappears in the entryway—something she'd never imagined would become second nature to her, but she knows it makes Santana anxious—Artie and Tina remove themselves from the living room and begin helping again. Although Brittany hadn't thought she'd had much, now that it's all stacked up inside her new home, she furrows her brow wondering when she'd even accumulated so much stuff, and how she'd managed to shove it all beneath beds and on top shelves of closets in her old apartment. By the time it's all moved inside, Brittany has no idea where Santana has gone off to, and looking at her friends slumped on the couch, she calls out her name and hears a response from the kitchen. As she walks through the doorway, she finds Santana with a box carefully slit open and holding Brittany's Tony the Tiger cereal bowl in one hand, and her Snap, Crackle, Pop in the other.
"Oh good! You found my kitchen stuff!" Brittany chirps excitedly. "Is the Strawberry Shortcake one in there too?"
"I'm not sure…there's…uh…a mix of stuff in here and…" Santana stammers, cheeks shining with embarrassment as she looks down at the partially closed box. "There's a…magic wand."
"A magic wand?" Brittany raises an eyebrow, the bursts out laughing the instant she realizes what it is Santana is talking about. "Babe, are you that embarrassed about finding my vibrator? You know you've had your tongueins—"
"Brittany! Keep your voice down!" Santana hisses, then starts blinking incredibly rapidly. "I just didn't expect to find that in here. I didn't even know you hadone."
"Of course I do. Lauren worked at The Pink Pussycat for awhile a few years ago, and Hitachi totally rocked my world."
"Jesus fucking Christ." Santana bites down hard on her lower lip, the idea of Brittany just walking into a store called The Pink Pussycatactually lessdisturbing than the self-doubt that begins to creep in that she might not be satisfying Brittany enough. "So do you…?"
"I mean, duh, that's kind of the point, Santana." Brittany rolls her eyes a little.
"Oh, okay…"
"Hey, weirdo." Brittany puts her hand under Santana's chin and tilts it up so she's looking in her eyes. "Who do you think I'm thinking of? Nothinggets me going like picturing you propped up on your elbows between my legs, looking at me with those smoldery eyes you get, and licking your lips. I start thinking of that sometimes, and you're at work, or whatever, and it gets me off way better than my own fingers. Why, do you notever—"
"Your friends are rightin the living room, oh my God."
"You know they're totally occupied watching General Hospital.I'm just trying to make you feel better about something that's got you all freaked out."
"Well it's not really working."
"Santana Lopez, are you freaking for serious right now? That bite mark I know you still have on your shoulder should tell you that you are the best lover I've ever had, and me owning a vibrator's got nothing to do with it. I would've gotten rid of it when I was packing, if I would've thought it would make you feel bad. But—" Brittany leans in, breathing into Santana's ear. "I thought it would be reallyhot if we played with it together."
"I…" A chill runs down Santana's spine at the husk in Brittany's voice, and the visuals that accompany it.
"I was thinking you'd let me spread your legs and press it against you. Over your panties first, until you're writhing, and begging me for more. Then I'd pull them down and part you with my fingers, bringing them to my lips to taste how much you want me. I'd kiss you, so you could taste yourself too, before I'd press the vibrator back against you, and feel the way the pulsations ripple through your whole body. And then, just before you come, I'd—"
"Fuck, Brittany, can you notright now?" Santana presses her thighs together and reaches for her water glass on the table.
"I'd throw it to the side and I'd finish you with my mouth." Brittany races out in one breath, then grins innocently at Santana. "But, you know, I'll totally toss it if you—"
"No." She yelps. "Just…go hide it somewhere in our room. Just…make sure your friends don't see it on your way, and you put it somewhere that Millie won't accidentally come across it and discover the filthy, filthy things I fantasize about you doing to me."
"Okay." Brittany arches an eyebrow and gives Santana a quick kiss on the lips. "But I'll let you know where it's stashed…in case you need to fantasizewhile I'm at work."
"And…if I wanted to use it on you?"
"Do I even have to answer that, babe?" She winks over her shoulder. "It would be my pleasure."
By the time Brittany comes back from stashing the vibrator in the top drawer of the nightstand, removing the key and hiding it under the lamp, Santana has found Brittany's Ronald McDonald and company glasses, and her Garfield mugs, and has them washed and lined up in the dish rack. Eight boxes are open on the floor, and remaining inside of them are Brittany's clothes, now neatly folded and possibly arranged according to season. Smiling adoringly at her girlfriend's furrowed brow as she attempts to make room in the kitchen cabinet, Brittany knows just how much Santana loves her, how this woman making roomfor all of her kooky things is so much more special than it would be with anyone else, because she craves order and routine so fundamentally.
"Alright, task number one taken care of. The key to the nightstand on my side of the bed is under your lamp."
"Good to know." Santana swallows hard, having been unable to shake the words Brittany husked in her ear, even as she'd busied herself. "So your friends are…"
"Being lazy sacks of crap and drinking beer in the living room. We can totally kick them out."
"I promised them pizza, Britt."
"You promised them pizza in exchange for helping.Pretty much only Mike earned it. Artie and Tina get negative pizza."
"Stop." Santana throws a paper towel in Brittany's direction. "They might be snoopy, and kind of a lot,but I don't want them to feel like you're moving in with someone who can't let their hair down."
"Babe." Brittany cocks an eyebrow, attempting to hold back her laugh.
"Hey! I let my hair down…sometimes."
"Mostly when you're naked." She counters, then leans over and strokes Santana's thumb with her cheek. "Your passion and intensity is something I love about you a lot.I'm not asking you to change for my friends who put their feet up on coffee tables."
"What?" Santana's eyes widen a little, and Brittany giggles. "Britt! Not funny. You knowfeet on tables grosses me out. Ugh, and now I sound like my mother, the lasthuman being on the planet that I want to sound like. I'd rather sound like Walter Mondale."
"Hey, I likeMondale."
"I love you to death, but I reallydisagree with your politics."
"I'm aware. If you left me for a man, it would be Ronald Reagan." Brittany feigns a gag, and Santana scrunches up her nose.
"I love his economic policy, nothis body. Maybe Nancy."She teases, and Brittany swats at her. "Kidding. I'll take my hippie liberal girlfriend any day."
"Damn straight. Now, I'm ordering the pizza and then telling them the van is being towed so they leave. You've got something to show me, and I've got thingsto show you."
Brittany calls and orders four pies, assuring Santana that there's no way they'll go to waste, and though she's backed significantly off carbs in hopes of actually landing some kind of role, she encourages Santana to open a beer, and to sit down and relax. She does just that—the beer and the sitting part, not really the relaxing part—and though Brittany knows she still feels really on edge, despite her assertions otherwise, and way older than her friends, Santana does her best to fit in among the rag tag group of artists and performers. When the pizza finally arrives, Santana jumps to her feet, setting out plates on the table, and feeling extremelyanxious when Mike and Tina decline to sit, instead folding their slices and standing around. She's trying, she's trying so hard, even when Artie accidentally flings his slice while telling a story, and it reaches the edge of the living room, smearing sauce and grease into white plush carpet. Brittany loves her all the more for the way she wants to welcome her friends, and as Santana gets down on her knees with Resolve, trying to nonchalantly remove the stain before it sets, Brittany crouches beside her, mumbling a soft apology, and an even softer I love you a lot. When they finally leave, Santana has switched to white wine, and she sinks down into the couch cushions, trying not to guzzle it as she sort of shifts her eyes over the room, the chair that's yet to find a place, and the still full boxes.
"Hi." Brittany sinks down next to her, one hand stroking her hair, and the other scratching the fabric of her jeans. "Please don't be stressed. I think you got all the sauce out, and Millie got that osso bucco stain out of your dress that time, so if you didn't…"
"I'm not stressed about the carpet." Brittany cocks her head to the side in disbelief when Santana speaks, and she shakes her head. "Promise. I just get a little overwhelmed with people I don't really know knowingabout me, and being in my private space. I know they're your friends, and it's fine,and I'll get better about it, just give me some time to get used to their…openness?"
"You don't have to put it in your question tone, of course I'll give you time. Look, babe, I can't even begin to imagine what you deal with being so tightly wound and having to hide things all the time." Carefully, Brittany plucks the wine glass from Santana's hand, always concerned about her stomach trouble flaring up, and replaces the rim on her lips with a slow, sweet kiss. "The people I'm around are just overly open, and I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I'm so used to vagina jokes that I don't even hear them anymore."
"The thing is, Britt, I'm not sure I'll everget used to that. I mean, the other stuff, like Mike and Artie making fart jokes or whatever, yeah, but not the sex stuff. Fifteen years ago, I made such a big deal of talking about sex in front of everyone. I started a rumor that I got on my knees for the whole football team." Santana averts her gaze from Brittany, whose eyes widen. "I didn't. I just wanted everyone to think that, because it was less of a sin in my Catholic school than if I knew I was peeking over my books at the captain of the drill team who rolled up her skirt everyday."
"Santana."
"The point is, Britt—" Santana just shakes her head. "It's different now, and I like your friends, I do,I'm just never going to laugh at Tina joking about having sex with me, or Artie telling that weird Virginia vagina joke. I don't want them to think I'm a dud, but it's just…its just me, and I'm sorry."
"Santana Lopez." Brittany cups her cheeks and kisses her again, letting it linger. "You don't have to be sorry. Look, I was super freaked out on my way up here about…I don't know, like, growing up or whatever, but the second I saw you standing in the doorway, I knew that I didn't have a reason to feel like that. I mean, I'm not saying I'm gonna quit playing Donkey Kong, because I'm totally not, and I'm gonna teach you to play one day, or I'm not gonna eat breakfast out of my mascot bowls, but I love having a grown up relationship with you. I lovethat you put on your sexy suits and go to your important job, and then we go on dates where you order fancy wine in French. I love that you hang art on the walls and not Blade Runnerposters. And I love that what we do in the bedroom—or, like, wherever we do it—is something that's really special and private. I wouldn't be dating an older woman, if I didn't think your maturity was sexy."
"I'm not thatmuch older that you."
"You're right, it's onlyseven years. But really, you're not a dud, and I love that being with you is being witha grownup, and makes meone too, even semi-unemployed, in my Van Halen t-shirt, and jonesing for spring to come so I can get back on my bike. I love our relationship, and I love you."
"Even when I'm anal and uptight?"
"You're not, usually, with me, but I love everything about you, so yeah."
"So can I be a control freak right now and say we need to finish your boxes before my head explodes?"
"I think that's fair." Brittany chuckles, offering Santana, who stumbles, a hand up. "You gonna be okay, drunky?"
"Shut up, I'm fine." She smacks Brittany's arm, but then loops her own through, and leans against her. "You live with me now."
"I do live with you now." Pressing her lips to Santana's temple, she pulls her closer, absolutely adoring cuddly drunk Santana, and glad she'd stopped with the wine before she became weepy drunk Santana. "And didn't you say you had a surprise to show you."
"Nuh-uh, not until we're done with the boxes. I'm saving all the work I have to do this weekend until you go in to the restaurant tomorrow, and I don't want us to leave it until morning."
"I wouldn't do that, I know you, you'd end up getting up in the middle of the night and unpacking."
"I mean…maybe." Santana rolls her eyes and cuddles further into Brittany's side. "Let's just do it now, I promise, your surprise is worth waiting for."
They work quickly, sorting through piles of dance shoes, old costumes, and pictures of Brittany's family, laughing and making goofy faces, in stark contrasts of the one of Santana's family that sits on the mantle, her imposing father and disdainful mother, with Santana attempting not to look like she'd rather be dead than posing with them in front of their mansion. It's Santana who puts one of Brittany's family on the opposite side of her own though, it's Santana who hopes that someday, she'll have Brittany'sfamily embrace her for who she is, even though she knows the Lopezes never will. Brittany notices her quiet wistfulness and pulls her closer, not speaking about it, because she knows Santana won't,but just offering silent support, an unspoken promise that she's always there, that she'll always love her.
When they're finished and Brittany brings the broken down boxes out to the trash, Santana leads her up narrow stairs in the back of the house. With the exception of Santana's office, the upstairs is rarely used. There'd never been a need for it, not with Santana living there alone. One of the two bedrooms up there has sat vacant since Santana bought the place, housing only odds and ends that she couldn't find a place for, and the other a bed and a dresser, a place for Millie to keep anything she chooses, in case the weather is bad, or she and Marley stay to watch the house while Santana goes out of town. Brittany looks at Santana quizzically as they walk up the stairs, but Santana just shrugs, knowing if she speaks, she'll give away the surprise that she hopes her girlfriend isn't too upset that she put together.
With Brittany at her heels, Santana cracks open the door to the unused room, and she peeks in, turning on the lights and making sure—though she had done it twice since the contractor she'd hired had finished it up on Wednesday—that all was well. Satisfied with it, she opens the door fully, revealing the empty space, housing only waxed wooden floors and white walls covered in mirrors and bars with a new stereo in the corner. At the sight, Brittany sucks in a breath, hands flying to cover her mouth.
"Santana Lopez. You didn't."
"I…I couldn't help myself." She sucks on her bottom lip and watches Brittany's shining eyes.
"You—" She spins Santana around to kiss her between words. "Are. Absolutely. Awful. And. I. Love. You. A. Lot."
"I know you were working out at the rec center by your old place, and it's really far for you to go down there every day. I just figured…I have my office, and I wanted you to have a space of your own too. Somewhere you can practice your routines and land a role that's worthy of you, or, you know, just hang out if I make you crazy and you need time to yourself."
"You're too much." Brittany fans her face, trying to keep herself from crying at just how lucky she is to have someone who believes in her as much as Santana does. "This is too much."
"I figured I got youas a gift today, so I should get you something too. Something that doesn't just feel like you're fitting yourself into mylife."
"Okay, so remember how earlier, I said you where getting solucky tonight?" She lifts Santana, who yelps a little, so her legs wrap around her waist, and she tests the strength of the ballet bar before she rests Santana's ass on it. "That times a million. Right here. Right now, roomie."
"I love you so much." Santana can't help but giggle into Brittany's neck as she works the button on her jeans with skilled fingers.
"Yeah, you think, crazy face? Thank you. Thank you for this, for everything."
"For you, Britt, the whole world."