Rated M fo' sho'.
So this is the last episode-chapter, as it's the season finale (woohoo) for season two. That means TID is coming to an end in the next chapter or two. I'll miss my baby, but it's time to get going on other things besides oneshots and this. Also, in case you didn't see, I started a new story called Second Chances. It is from Santana's POV and it is somewhat AU. Pretty different from this one, actually, but I'm hoping you'll love it as much as I love the concept in my head. (: It's my next multi-chapter fic attempt. Love to you all, beautiful readers!
The plane ride to Nationals was long and really boring. Once I got over the fact we were flying to New York City in first class, sitting in one spot for hours lost its coolness factor. My one distraction came in the form of a really nervous Santana, who sat holding her arm rests the entire ride. It was the only sign of her fear because she didn't want anyone else to know how scared she was- after all, she'd never been on a plane before and the highest Santana cared to be without solid support attached to the ground beneath her was at the top of the pyramid. I wasn't like the other glee kids, though, and I could see through her mask easily. My hand reached out and took hers, squeezed it gently. "It'll be okay," I told her gently. Her worried eyes darted past me to the opposite row, but Quinn was dozing in her seat and didn't notice us. Everyone else's view of our hands was blocked by the oversized seats. She relaxed a bit, squeezed my hand softly.
"Totally," she replied. "We're just hanging in a metal box twenty thousand feet in the air, no need to worry, we'll just die if it falls, no big deal, whatever, right?" I stared at her, completely unused to her babbling nervousness. After a moment, I shoved up the arm rest between us and took our seat belts off, urging her closer to me. She complied, which was the true sign of how afraid she was. Her body curled into mine and I noticed she was shivering and everything in me went soft with sympathy.
"Why don't you sleep, okay? We'll be in New York soon, San, it's okay. Just close your eyes…." She obeyed immediately, sucked in a deep breath before releasing it slowly again. Her weight slumped further against mine as time passed and I could tell by her breathing that she'd drifted off, one arm slung around my stomach and the other still tangled with mine. I smiled down at her, the girl I loved more than anything, and hoped she would stay asleep until we landed. It would make it easier for her. "I'll keep you safe, San," I murmured softly, my free hand lifting to carefully tuck a strand of loose black hair back behind her ear. She stirred against me, her head turning to press into my chest as she mumbled and drifted deeper under. My lips touched the top of her head and I let my fingers stay on her cheek, stroked gently, traced the soft curve of it, let my fingers run further down to the line of her neck. So beautiful, I remember thinking.
My beautiful Santana.
When I looked up from her slumbering face, it was to find Quinn watching us from across the aisle. I looked back at her silently, my eyebrows scrunching together as I tried to decide whether or not to be worried. My friendship with Quinn was always weird because I was never quite sure if I was supposed to trust her or not. I knew she cared – I saw it, I felt it – but that didn't mean she wouldn't turn around and say something. She'd been acting really weird ever since Finn broke up with her and I was worried she was looking for something to latch onto, to lash out against. But then she smiled across at us and I knew it wasn't us. Maybe the three of us weren't all on the same level, but Quinn had always known about us and she'd never used it against us and I knew we were her best friends. Besides, hadn't she said that one time that she'd be happy for me? For us? "You look happy," she said, and even if she sounded a little sad, she sounded pleased, too.
"It's not perfect," I replied, because it wasn't and because I thought maybe Quinn needed to know she wasn't alone in being afraid, in wanting what she didn't or couldn't have. But she only shook her head and sighed a bit to herself, eyes focused then on the back of the seat in front of her.
"Yes it is," she said in return, and I didn't know what to say to that. Quinn was never as easy to understand.
Santana slept until the plane touched down, nearly breaking my fingers when the jolt shot her awake. Panicked eyes swept the cabin only to realize I was buckled in again and holding her tight so that she wouldn't go flying forward with the landing. As soon as her sleepy mind registered we were on the ground, she completely relaxed, pulling away from me again. "Thank the little baby Jesus," she muttered to herself as she scooted back onto her seat and buckled her own seatbelt. I felt colder without her weight pressed into me, but because I could feel too sad, she reached across and squeezed my hand again. "Thanks, B." Her smile was slight, but it was there, and it was real. One of her only-for-me smiles.
I was warm again.
New York itself was pretty cool. Everything was huge and bright and all of the people moved so fast and they were all so colorful. I thought how I would have been happy to just dance down the streets singing at the top of my lungs, but Santana was beside me and she was nervous again so I didn't. Instead, I stayed beside her. We weren't touching, but every once in a while our hands would brush and warmth would spark where our skin touched. We stayed like that for a while. But then as we were stopped at a crosswalk, I noticed her eyes locked forward and to the left and when I looked, there were these two women. One was talking on a cell phone and with her hand on the other woman's back. She looked like someone's boss or something because she wore this really nice blue suit. The other was in a long, flowery dress- I remembered thinking that it was something Quinn would wear and it was really pretty and I wondered if that was why Santana was staring. And then I saw how the one in the dress looked at the one with the cell phone, all smiley and gooey eyed, and I realized what Santana was seeing. The light changed and the woman on the phone hung up before taking the other's hand in her own. She smiled and apologized, bringing that hand to her lips for a quick kiss as the group of pedestrians – including all of New Directions – started crossing. The dress one laughed and, with the practiced move of someone who lived in the city, bent to kiss her girlfriend right on the lips.
No one even seemed to notice except for me and Santana, but as soon as their lips met, Santana walked faster so that she fell into step beside Sam instead of me. They had stopped being awkward exes, but they weren't exactly friendly either, so it was weird to me that she'd chosen to walk beside him instead. I knew I was pouting, but I wasn't quite able to wipe the expression away. At least, not until Quinn took my best friend's place and hooked her arm through mine. "We should grab lunch, Mr. Schue," she called out, and when the group cheered in agreement, we went to find food. Quinn smiled up at me and squeezed my arms. "So, Brittany. Want to be my lunch buddy?" I gave her a puzzled look, noticed from the corner of my eye how Santana's head whipped around to stare at us. I didn't want to shoot down Quinn when she needed a friend, though, so I nodded and smiled. Santana looked away.
We sat down on these really big steps. Quinn and I were the last two to get lunch, but when we settled down to eat, I looked around for Santana. She wasn't there. I frowned to myself, but Quinn soon drew me into conversation and I let her distract me. Santana was smart. No way had she got lost or anything like that. I even half-heartedly joined in Kurt's song when he started up, but my thoughts were on Santana. That's when I spotted her. She sat on the steps feet away from the rest of the group, fork idly picking at a salad. I didn't see more than a single bite make it to her mouth. Mercedes sat with her, chatting away even though I could tell from twenty feet away that my best friend wasn't listening to a word she said. I wondered if maybe she didn't want anyone to notice the way she wasn't eating. Before I could get up to go to her, though, Rachel came back and said something about cats and Quinn was shooting her down and I felt bad, but still wondered how someone who loved Broadway so much didn't know that it closed. Then I wondered why Quinn did.
"Alright, guys! It's time to check into our hotel! Finish up your lunches!" Mr. Schuester stood in front of us with a huge smile on his face and I wondered why he was so happy, seeing as we still didn't have songs and Nationals was like. Super soon. But I guess that was just Mr. Schue- always trying to keep our energy up. We stood and tossed out our trash before following to the hotel. It was huge and really nice, but I wasn't too worried about that. I was once again worried about Santana and the fact she hadn't eaten and I wanted to know why she hadn't stood beside me at all since we'd crossed the street. It wasn't like anyone had looked at those two women like they were gross. No one had looked at them at all, in fact.
I caught up with her inside the hotel lobby, caught her elbow and smiled warmly when she looked back at me. "Hey, you," I murmured and she managed a small smile. The fact she didn't shrug me off encouraged me and I stepped closer, walking with her further into the room. "What's wrong, Santana? You didn't eat anything at lunch."
"Leave it to you to notice," she returned, but there was no anger in her voice. She only sighed and leaned against this really tall table thing and I leaned against the other side, watching her quietly and waiting for an answer. I saw so many things on her face and I wanted to just pull her close and kiss her fears away, but I knew that sort of stuff was part of it so we couldn't just do that. "I'm nervous," she admitted. "About… everything. Being away from Lima for the first time, this stupid competition… you." Her dark eyes circled nervously around the room before returning to me. Her voice dropped and so did her gaze, fingers opening a small book of maps on the tabletop as if that was what we were looking at instead of each other. "You and me." I started to ask what she meant, but just then, Quinn joined us. She was mumbling complaints about Finn and Rachel and Santana silently slid the maps toward her. "Shut up, I can hear Berry's loud mouth heading in our direction. Mountain troll's with her." Quinn's mouth snapped shut and we all focused on looking casual as they passed. We didn't have to bother. They didn't even seem to notice. Quinn looked up at them with obvious disbelief layered with a lot of pain. I felt bad because I knew she wanted so badly to love Finn and the fact she didn't, and he didn't, bothered her. The fact she had been dumped for Rachel had to hurt as well.
"I need to go," she mumbled, and she was off again. Santana and I didn't bother to remind her that we were all in the same room so there was no where she needed to go that wasn't where we needed to go, too.
We all gathered in one of our two hotel rooms for a group meeting. Mr. Schuester handed out pads of paper and pens and told us to write songs while he ran out and I wondered again why we didn't already have something prepared, but I didn't ask just in case it was a stupid question. Maybe part of the rules was that we couldn't have our songs until the day before the competition or something. I didn't know. I glanced up at Santana, who sat on the couch behind me. She was glaring hard down at the pad of paper, obviously not writing a thing, her pen tapping in a fast beat against it. Her foot bounced slightly the more upset she got and I decided to write a song that would put a smile back on her face.
It was pretty obvious, I think, that it wasn't really about a cup. Metaphors are important, though. At least, that's what Rachel always said, and I figured I might as well go for it because no one would think I knew what it implied except Santana, and that's who I was aiming this at. I watched her laugh quietly to herself throughout the whole time, saw how at the end she tried to look as shocked as everyone else, but she kept grinning after so it was kind of a fail. Quinn spoke up then and when everyone's attention shifted to her, I grinned at Santana and offered a small wink. I'd managed to cheer her up a little. I could tell when she went out and sang and danced with everyone. I could tell later when we all got in a massive pillow fight and she laughed and jumped up and down on the bed. I could tell when she smiled warmly every time she looked at me. It felt warm and right and perfect and like we were almost where we needed to be.
It felt like love.
Later, when everything was calm again and people started drifting out of the room, Santana sat down at my side. I was lying across the bed, my body spread out like a starfish as I flexed my feet to keep them from knotting. "Hey, Britt?" she whispered, poking my palm lightly. My fingers curled automatically around hers and I smiled, glancing over at her. She was so pretty; her dark hair tumbled around her face, framing that same soft smile she'd worn all day. There was still a feather clinging to her hair from before and I reached up with my free hand, plucking it free. Neither of us was too worried about the action, as the room was practically empty. Rachel had gone out dressed all fancy and she wasn't fooling anyone- we knew she was going out with Finn. Lauren and Puck were down trying the bar again and Kurt and Mercedes were on the opposite end of the room playing some sort of game. Quinn had left shortly after Rachel and the other boys were in their own room, where I think Tina had escaped to in order to be with Mike. Smiling up at her, I made some humming sound to get her to continue, too sleepy to bother with actual words. "You want to go outside with me? I need a smoke."
I frowned a little because I thought she'd quit, but I didn't want to miss the chance to be alone with her in the city for a little while, so I only nodded and slipped out of bed. We found our shoes and walked out to the elevator in silence. We rode all the way down and made it through the doors, in fact, before I broke it. "I thought you quit."
"I did." She shrugged, and I realized then that she wasn't reaching for a cigar or anything. Instead, her hand drifted out and caught mine, pulled it a little so that I stepped closer. Our fingers – all of them – linked and we started walking just like that. I remember my mind being completely blank before it started going a million miles an hour, faster than it ever moved. I remember the feel of my heart pounding and the way her hand squeezed mine tightly, as if all of her fear was suddenly centered where our palms and fingers meshed together. "I just… wanted to walk, I guess," she whispered, swallowing hard. It was a test, I realized as we wandered down the street and around the corner. She was testing herself, letting herself feel what it was like to do this where people could see. No one paid attention, though. I wondered if her unwritten rule was to let go or turn around the instant someone looked at them weird, but no one did. We got all the way back to the big fountain before we stopped again and she stepped up onto it, walking along the edge with my hand still caught in hers. At one point, she pulled me up with her and it was like there was magic in the air or something because she slid into my arms and wrapped her own around my waist. "Dance with me," she requested, still whispering, and I obeyed because I was so lost in her eyes.
I dropped my forehead against hers and stared and stared, fingers running in small lines over her back as I matched our pace to the rhythm of our hearts. She smiled at me, and even though it was a hesitant smile, it was real and warm and so sweet that it almost hurt. "This is nice." My voice was so, so quiet. I remember being afraid of breaking whatever spell we were under, like my voice would reverse it and everything would be how it was before. But instead she only laughed and shook her head slightly, her body pressing closer.
"Dancing in the dark is easy," she replied, a bit sadly. "We'll see if I can manage this during the day when people at school can see. Then you can call it nice."
"It is nice, San. I mean, yeah, I wish other people could see how nice it was, too…" My fingers ran gently down her hair, cradled the back of her head as she dropped it against my shoulder with her warm breath feathering against my neck. "But I like having stuff just between you and me sometimes, too. Like this. Just you and me, dancing to our song in the dark." It was a bit of a strange thing to say and I expected her to ask what song I meant because there was no music playing.
But then her head turned and her lips pressed to my heart and I realized that she could hear it, too.
I woke up in the middle of the night that night curled up on Santana's back (we'd taken the couch since Mercedes and Tina had one bed, Rachel and Kurt had the other, Lauren took up the cot by herself, and Quinn curled up on the chair), my eyes blinking against the dim light coming from the small flashlight I noticed Santana held. She was scribbling words onto her notebook, but the only thing my blurry eyes took in was the phrase "light up the world" at the top before I buried my face against her shoulder blade and drifted off again.
We didn't wake up until well after everyone else had left the room, so it was just me and Santana and Quinn as we stretched our sore bodies and started getting ready. Quinn took the bathroom first while we dressed, I think to give us privacy so we could stop pretending not to look at each other, but she was taking a long time. I wondered if she thought there was more going on out here than there was and she was waiting for the all clear or something. Finally Santana rolled her eyes. "Come on," she muttered, and we got up and moved to the bathroom so that she could bang on the door.
Quinn came out then and I realized she must have thought too much while she was in the bathroom because she seemed upset. She said something about telling on Kurt and Rachel and my heart slammed in my chest. She couldn't. "You can't do that. Then he'll have to suspend them." I looked nervously towards Santana. If they were suspended, then-
"Then there goes our chances at Nationals," Quinn said. "Darn." Even I could tell she was being sarcastic, and I wasn't the best with sarcasm.
"You know what?" I looked at Santana again. She was mad. I could see she was mad. She wanted to win, wanted to have this one thing. I remembered her writing in the middle of the night and I wondered if maybe it had been a song she wanted to do for the competition. Trouty Mouth had been a joke she'd penned in about five minutes during Glee, but writing in the middle of the night? That was something real. And Quinn was threatening to ruin it. "We get it. You're pissed about Finn dumping your sweet ass. Get over it."
"I don't want to get over it! Okay?" I flinched as Quinn yelled the words, looked back at Santana with my arms folded tightly over my chest before looking at the floor again. I hated fighting and I hated yelling. It made me nervous. I especially didn't like it between my two best friends. This had happened so much this year- the mean comments and angry words. I just hoped they weren't about to start physically fighting again. But no, Santana wouldn't. She knew how I felt about it.
"The only person that you're sabotaging here is yourself," she said, and her voice was still calm despite Quinn's yelling. I pressed a finger to my mouth, hoped that the signal would keep Quinn quiet. She didn't notice.
"I don't care about some… stupid show choir competition!" I flinched at the word 'stupid' and then stared at her, shocked by her yelling. I'd never seen her so mad before. Not even when she'd been fighting Santana that first time. My eyes moved to Santana as I whispered a quiet "shit" under my breath, knowing that Quinn's words would have pissed her off in turn. I was right. Santana never let people get away with saying that word around me, even if it wasn't really about me. Besides, Quinn was insulting something Santana cared about.
"Well you should," she snapped back, "Because this is the one chance that we have to actually feel good about ourselves!" My eyes burned with sadness and I stared at the two of them, wanting to reach out and draw them both against me. I wanted to hug them until they stopped yelling, hugged them until they felt good about themselves even without singing or boyfriends or whatever else. I wanted Santana to stop being afraid, to stop feeling so sad, to stop being so insecure. I wanted Quinn to smile for real again, wanted her to understand that she was loved, that there were people who wanted her. Santana's words seemed to have dampened the fight, Quinn staring with drenched eyes right back at her.
"Aren't we supposed to be the popular girls?" she asked quietly, and her voice was like cracked glass. "So why can't we have our dreams come true." We stared at her, Santana trying to play it off while I just listened. "She has love, Tina has it, even Zizes hooks up." And I could hear the unspoken, and you two have each other, that she didn't say, even though Santana couldn't. She didn't know Quinn had guessed. Not then. We are all quiet. I stared at the carpet and fought the urge to grab them again, my hands curled tightly into fists. Quinn stepped back then and I moved towards her automatically. I almost told Santana to, too, but I realized a second later that we had moved at the same time anyways. She was already sitting at Quinn's other side so that we kind of made her a Quinn sandwich.
"I just want somebody to love me," she choked through her tears. I did reach out then, my hand stroking down her arm as she sniffed, played with her hair, rubbed her back. Santana comforted her with words while I comforted her with cuddling and suddenly it felt like it had in the bathroom after the funeral- like we were all friends again, like we were a unit, like even though Santana and I were… whatever we were, Quinn still filled the third slot of the unholy trinity and that would never change. Besties forever, we'd promised that years ago. Santana and I completed each other, but we completed Quinn. And we both loved her even if we were in love with each other. We loved her the way someone loves a best friend when things don't get complicated with kissing and sex and feelings. And that's nice, too.
So we blew off song writing for a while and called room service for a pair of scissors and I cut her hair right there in the hotel bathroom. I thought there was relief in her face as it fell away, as if all her insecurities and fears were cut away with them. Maybe being with best friends did that.
When we finally returned to the group, no one had really made any progress with song-writing, so it came as a surprise when like an hour into it, Santana (who hadn't even opened her notebook) announced boldly that she had a song. It didn't surprise me, of course. I'd been waiting since we'd walked in for her to tell them this. I can tell she was nervous because her fingers twisted together, but her expression was strong and determined. She wanted us to sing it. "While I applaud your efforts, Santana," Rachel said at last, her voice hesitant, "Your last attempt at song-writing was…" Her eyes shoot to Sam and back, "Less than inspiring."
"Why don't you read it before you shoot it down," I suggested quietly and everyone stared. I was always the last person to argue with someone, but I wanted people to at least give it a chance. They weren't being fair. So Rachel nodded and stood to take the notebook, flipping open to the first page. The more she read, the wider her eyes got, the faster she flipped through the pages. A peak over the top showed that Santana had even scribbled music notes and stuff in there below all the words. Rachel was humming it to herself, nodding excitedly.
"This is actually… Really good, Santana," she said before the notebook was passed around for everyone to see. I smiled proudly at her and she smiled back, though barely, too nervous to keep it on her face. I hard Puck start to play the notes on his guitar and it sounded amazing, even for a first time through. Santana mentioned he was too slow, that it was meant to be a more fast-paced song. When everyone agreed that this had to be one of our songs, I clapped and bounced slightly in place. I wanted to jump up and kiss her until neither of us could breathe right, but now wasn't the time for that. Now we had renewed energy and needed song number two. Even the news that Mr. Schuester was leaving didn't stop us, and when he came in with pizza and told us he wasn't really leaving, we got even more good energy and managed a second song as well.
We sat beside one another before our turn, pinkies linked as we watched the other choirs. I leaned over at one point and whispered, "No matter what happens, Santana, your song? It's so beautiful. And it's first place." She looked at me and our eyes met and I knew she could see that I understood the words in her song. I'd always had trouble with lyrics before, but not this time. Her pinky slipped away from mine and she took my whole hand instead, squeezing gently before she continued to watch and we waited for our turn.
And when we lost, it was awful.
Santana was silent the entire ride back to the hotel. I kept telling her that it wasn't her fault, that her song was amazing, that we'd absolutely rocked Light Up the World, but she wasn't listening. Her arms were folded and I could tell her anger was building. It would burst free soon. And I was right. As soon as we were back in one of the rooms all together, there was a second of silence… and then she exploded. Words flew out of her mouth in furious Spanish. It took Quinn, Mike, and Sam to keep her from killing Finn and Rachel, and even then, she almost escaped. I knew they wouldn't be able to hold her back, and I was pretty sure that part of them didn't want to, either. So I stepped forward and said very quietly under the sound of her voice, "Santana." She froze, looked slowly towards me. Our eyes met and so many words were spoken. No one moved, no one breathed. And then she shoved off their arms and stormed out of the room. I sighed, grabbed both of the key cards for the other room, and quickly followed.
She couldn't get in when she reached the door, but I was quick to reach around her and open it. We walked in and I placed both key cards down, quickly bolting the door as she paced. "Okay I have both the keys," I said slowly. "So vent here, Santana. Cry if you have to, but get it out while we're alone. I'm not letting anyone else in here until you're okay again." She whirled on me, her dark eyes filled with her anger. She moved until she stood in front of me, then reached up and dragged my lips down to hers. It was a hard kiss, mad and filled with disappointment. This had meant a lot to her. This had been special. And it was ruined. So I didn't pull back, but let her pin me to the door as she kissed me.
And God, it felt good to have her again. To feel her pressed against me, not just in sleep, but with want. She wanted me to make it better, to give her an outlet, to… fix everything. "Fast," she panted into my mouth, and I heard the frantic way she said it. It echoed in my ears. "Fast, hard. Please, Britt, God, fuck me." And as always, I tried to give her what she wanted. I moved us forward, shoved her into the wall beside the door. I reached under her skirt, pulled down the black spandex shorts as well as her underwear. She kicked them off and then used the wall to support her as I dragged first one thigh and then the other around my waist, stepping forward into her again. I could feel her heat then as she arched into me, body bowing back so her hips rolled forward against mine.
"Whatever you want, Santana," I breathed, and I kissed her again with that same amount of desire. Maybe giving into her request wasn't the best idea, maybe I should have calmed her down and comforted her instead of letting her get this. But I knew Santana and I knew what we both wanted and it was some sort of escape from the mess of losing. We were both hurt and we wanted each other for comfort and there wasn't really anything wrong with that. And if that meant rough sex against a hotel wall, then that was what we would do.
I shoved her dress up even as her hands unzipped mind and shove it down. We were both gripping bare skin then, her perfectly filed nails scratching over my back as my right hand slipped between us, fingers driving hard into her. Santana cried out and pulled me closer with strong legs, canted her hips against my hand as I set our pace- fast and hard and deep and, God, so missed. The feel of her body pressed to mine, the way her walls clenched around my seeking hand, the way her teeth nipped my lower lip before drawing it in and sucking on it so sooth the small pain- all of it. The first time she came, I panted into her neck and helped her ride it out. Then we were spinning back towards the nearest bed. The dresses disappeared, followed by anything we wore underneath. I sank down onto her again and she rolled us, straddling my hips.
And then the sob choked out of her.
Instantly my hands found her thighs, ran up and down them to sooth. "Shh, San." I sat up to bump our noses lightly together. She clutched at my shoulders as I did it again. Her mouth lifted and met mine, the kiss still desperate, but a lot slower now. I understood her sudden change of pace, knew the pain was catching up with her. Before I had told her that she could have whatever she wanted. Now, as she clung to me and started to cry, I whispered, "Whatever you need, baby."
"You," she cried in response, our foreheads pressed together. "I need you, Britt. I need you and I want you and I'm sorry." I shook my head, unwilling to accept apologies. I knew it wasn't for today, but for everything. Right there in a hotel room in New York City, she was telling me that she was sorry.
And I didn't want her apologies. I didn't want anything negative from her. I just wanted the future. I wanted the good words, the warm words. No, I needed them.
"I love you, Santana." I said it quietly, but my voice was firm. Our eyes met and slowly she nodded, a small smile forming.
"I love you too, Britt." She nudged me back against the mattress then, our mouths fused together. When our hands wandered that time, they were slow and steady and soft. When her hand ran down my stomach, it quivered. When she found me, wet and wanting, I opened willingly to her. And when she sank into me, it was perfect. Our eyes locked as she brought me up and up and over, until at last I was falling again and she caught me and held me close and whispered the words again and again in my ear.
I love you more than anything.
I love you more than anyone.
I love you more than you can ever know.
Please wait for me, Brittany. Not much longer, I swear.
And I agreed to give her the time. I would have given her the moon and stars if she asked it of me.
Later, she would ask me right in the hallways of McKinley about where we were headed. And even though I knew she knew the answer, I told her anyway. I said, "I love you, Santana. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone else in this world. All I know about you and I is that, because of that, I think anything's possible."
And then she smiled and wrapped around me and we murmured words of friendship even though we knew it was so much more. For the first time in such a long time, our pinkies linked in the hallways of our high school and she asked me when I got so smart in that way she sometimes did.
"When I met this little four-year-old Puerto Rican girl and agreed to be her best friend," I replied and she laughed, grinning across at me. Her finger squeezed mine softly as we walked.
And suddenly anything was possible and all those things that weren't dating before could be dating soon. Any moment, any day. There was no rush. I had promised her time and I'd give her as much as she needed. Time was fine, as long as never was some day. As long was possibility was dating soon. I would give Santana as long as she wanted, but I hoped it wouldn't be too long before she decided.
I wanted to start forever with her as soon as possible.