Chapter 37: I'll Take Care of You

Chapter title song and soundtrack: "I'll Take Care of You" by the Dixie Chicks

A/N 1: I am humbled by the response I got to the last chapter… it means so much to me that you shared your personal stories and reactions in your reviews and private messages.

A/N 2: Thank you to my wonderful Betas Mia and TerribleMuriel. The development in this chapter is so much smoother thanks to their brilliant minds!

September 2018

"This is delicious, Elinor!" Brittany exclaimed as she chewed. She put her hand in front of her mouth to be polite, but kept talking. "Where'd you learn to cook?"

"My Nana taught me when I was little," Elinor replied cheerily as she sat down, putting her napkin in her lap.

Sophie looked across their dining room table at Elinor with pride. "She's taught herself a lot, though. She reads cookbooks like novels."

"That doesn't surprise me at all," said Santana, rolling her eyes with a smile as she took her first bite. "Mm!" she exclaimed as her taste buds buzzed around the food.

"It's like edible art, isn't it?" Sophie remarked.

Brittany and Santana nodded, taking another bite.

"Dinner with her is the best part of my day," Sophie smiled, giving Elinor a look of utter adoration. "Oh hey, baby, you forgot the wine!"

Santana's limbs numbed as she watched Sophie get up from her chair and walk into the kitchen. Brittany's wide eyes glanced back and forth between the kitchen door and Elinor's face. Elinor looked down at her food. Their friendly dinner had turned instantly tense.

"Babe, where'd you put all the wine?" Sophie called from the kitchen, annoyance piquing in her voice as she opened cabinet after cabinet.

Elinor poked at her food with her fork.

"Hello-ooo!" Sophie sang.

"I think we're out…" Elinor replied quietly.

Sophie sighed. "Okay, I'm gonna go get some. Be back in ten."

"No, babe, we have guests," Elinor pleaded. "We can just have Pellegrino or juice for tonight."

"Yeah, I'm fine with water," Santana spoke up. "Don't worry about it, Soph."

They heard the scrape of keys being picked up off the counter before the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Elinor set down her fork and put her forehead in her hand, elbow resting on the table. They sat in silence. Brittany swung her legs under the table, shoulders hunched up. Santana looked between Brittany and her nails.

"I hid it," Elinor admitted. "It's in the back of my closet under my shoes."

"I'm really sorry, El," Brittany murmured. "You shouldn't have to do that."

"I just don't know what to do anymore!" Elinor sputtered in exasperation, "She finds a way…"

"Maybe… maybe that's because you can't control someone else's drinking, you know?" Brittany suggested gingerly. "We have no power over other people."

"I know… I know," Elinor sighed. "I mean, I say I know, but I still try. Knowing and understanding are two different things." She shrugged in surrender.

"Totally," Brittany agreed.

Santana jumped in. "We've been thinking about you a lot. We don't like seeing you so sad and stressed out."

Elinor slumped down in her chair. "Whatever. Relationships are hard."

"Yeah," Santana said hesitantly, dipping her head to the side. "But they should have more happiness than stress. The healthy ones should, at least."

"Not everyone can be like you two," Elinor mumbled.

Santana glanced at Brittany, looking for direction on how to respond.

"We have problems, too," Brittany offered. "Santana's super messy and she always leaves her shoes right in front of the door where I trip over them. Sometimes when she's angry about something I have no idea what to say and I kind of freeze up. And I'm really forgetful and sometimes she gets really frustrated by that."

"Yeah, the other day she went to the store to get milk and came back with deodorant and a pound of butter…" Santana muttered, rolling her eyes.

"We don't agree on things like the value of organic food or what movie to watch or if we should splurge on a nice dinner or save for a rainy day."

"And life is just hard sometimes," Santana added. "I'm always buried in reading and papers, and Brittany's work schedule is erratic. Most of the time when we actually get to see each other we're dead-tired and we just want to sleep. It's not all rainbows and kittens."

"Because Santana won't let us get a cat," Brittany muttered.

"We will, I promise." Santana turned to Brittany. "Just not right now because we need to keep our housing options open until we're a little more financially stable. Not everywhere takes cats." She turned back to Elinor. "Sorry, this isn't about us. Anyway, what really stands out to me is that… well, Sophie is doing something she knows you don't like, but she doesn't try to change it. If Britt told me she really didn't like how I always leave the bath mat on the floor after I shower, I would start putting it over the edge of the tub. At least I'd try, because I love her."

"But Sophie does love me!" Elinor defended. "I know she does."

"Oh, we know she does too!" Brittany assured. "She loves you so much."

"She's crazy about you," agreed Santana.

Brittany glanced at Santana before continuing. "We're just noticing that even though she loves you, she hasn't stopped drinking even though it bothers you."

"I don't think I have a right to tell her she can't drink," Elinor said.

"No, you're right, you don't," Santana granted. "What she does with her body is her choice. Any good feminist would agree." She gestured towards Brittany, who nodded.

Brittany picked up the thread. "We're saying that we think it's not such a good sign that she doesn't try to cool it around you, because she knows it bothers you. That would be like Santana intentionally leaving the bath mat out."

Elinor stared at her food.

"Hey, El?" Santana asked, her voice suddenly soft. "Do you think… do you think maybe Sophie has a problem?"

Elinor flicked the corner of her placemat up a few times. She nodded slowly as her eyes misted over. Santana smiled sadly in sympathy, feeling her heart tug as her friend started to cry.

"We have an idea," Brittany offered. "But you can always say no."

Elinor looked up, glancing between Brittany and Santana. Her tears quivered, threatening to tumble down.

"Will you come with us to an Al-Anon meeting?" Brittany asked in her most gentle voice.

Elinor shook her head, causing the tears to spill. "I don't need A.A." She looked at the untouched food at Sophie's place.

Santana reached to touch Elinor's arm. Elinor eyed Santana's hand warily as Santana spoke. "Al-Anon is for people who are affected by someone else's drinking. People who might have tried things like hiding all the wine under their shoes."

Elinor squinted and shrugged her shoulders, as if shaking off the reminder. "I dunno. I'll think about it," she said.

"Okay. Please do," Brittany encouraged.

Elinor immediately backtracked. "I don't want to people to see me, though. People in New Haven know me and they know Sophie. I can't do that to her."

"But it's anonymous," Brittany reminded her. "Anyone else who's there probably has a similar secret, and you keep them for each other. Just think about it, okay?"

"We'll go with you any time you want," Santana added. "People know us, too, and we're willing to risk them making assumptions about us so we can support you."

"Thanks guys," Elinor smiled sadly and straightened up in her chair. "I'll think about it. But for now let's just eat."

"Okay," Santana settled.

"Have we told you how delicious your cooking is, by the way?" said Brittany with a wink.

November 2018

Santana shut the door and laid down her heavy book bag, sighing. The house was quiet and empty. She went into the kitchen to put her travel mug in the sink and was startled to see Brittany with her back to her at the counter, chopping vegetables.

"Jeezus, you scared me!" Santana sputtered, putting a hand on her heart. "I thought you worked tonight."

Brittany kept her back to Santana and nodded.

"Did they change your schedule?"

Brittany nodded again, staring intently down at the carrots and celery.

"Does that mean you'll have to work on date night again?" Santana grimaced, dumping out the dregs of her coffee and rinsing the travel mug.

Brittany kept her gaze down and shook her head, scraping carrot pieces off the knife with her finger.

"No more work," Brittany said.

"What?"

Brittany set the knife down and stared at the cabinet door in front of her. "I got laid off," she said, her voice flat.

"What?" Santana exclaimed, "That's impossible. You're the best PT assistant they have! They'd have to be idiots to let you go. I swear, first thing tomorrow morning I'm gonna walk in there and tell those imbeciles—"

"Santana!" Brittany warned. "That's not helping."

Santana pressed her lips together to hold in the stream of words. She blinked. "Sorry." Her eyes darted around the room. "What would help?"

"Can we just not talk about it?" Brittany asked with a wince, picking up her knife again.

"Okay…" said Santana. She stepped cautiously toward Brittany; nothing made her feel more helpless than seeing Brittany dejected and sad.

"I'm happy you're home with me, at least." She brushed Brittany's ponytail away from the back of her neck and kissed the skin there, putting her hands on Brittany's hips. Brittany shrugged her shoulders and hunched away.

"Dinner with be ready in fifteen minutes," she said in monotone.

Santana straightened up and pulled her hands back at the rejection.

"Okay." She walked out of the kitchen, looking back as she made her way down the hall. She saw Brittany wipe her face with her wrist – was she brushing her bangs out of her eyes, or wiping away a tear?

After a hushed dinner there was an urgent knock at the door. Santana frowned from her place over the sink washing dishes, wondering who was knocking at this hour. Brittany got up from the couch to answer it.

Elinor stood on the stoop with a duffle bag. She was sniffling and trying to hide the fact that she'd been crying.

"Hey!" Brittany said with concerned enthusiasm.

"Is this a bad time?" Elinor asked in a shaky voice.

"It's never a bad time, sweetie. Come in."

"'Kay. Thanks." Elinor stepped over the threshold and set down her bag.

"Come sit down."

Elinor walked to the couch and sank into it.

"We just finished dinner. Are you hungry?" Brittany offered.

"Yes. No. I don't know," Elinor faltered.

Santana walked out of the kitchen into the living room, slinging a dishtowel over her shoulder. Upon seeing Santana's look of concern, Elinor's face scrunched and she began to cry.

"W- w-…. we broke up!" Elinor spluttered.

"Oh, honey…" Brittany cooed, taking Elinor into her arms. "I'm so sorry."

Santana had never seen Elinor cry like this. She was gasping and sobbing, but Santana knew she was trying to keep as much in as she could. Santana sat on the other side of Elinor, timidly taking her hand and stroking it. She knew that feeling of heartbreak, that ripping up the middle from gut to throat. Holding Elinor's hand wouldn't make a difference, but it was all she knew how to do.

No one spoke, but Elinor's sobs and sniffles rang throughout the room. Santana looked back and forth between Brittany and Elinor, seeking guidance on what to do.

Brittany rescued her, as always. "We'll make you a bed and you can stay here for as long as you want."

"Totally," agreed Santana.

Elinor sucked air in through her nose, wiping her arm across her eyes and cheeks. "You guys don't have to do that…"

"But we want to," Santana assured. "You're one of our best friends."

Brittany nodded in agreement.

"Really?" asked Elinor, one corner of her mouth twitching up.

"Really," confirmed Santana.

Elinor paused for a moment. "Okay," she agreed, letting out a gasping sigh. "Thanks."

A few weeks later, Santana and Brittany sat down at their little table for dinner. It was quiet and the air smelled of the soup Brittany has spent the last few hours making. Santana took a bite. "Mmm..." she hummed. "This recipe's a keeper, Britt. Even master chef Elinor would be humbled."

"Thanks," said Brittany quietly. "Butternut squash."

Santana nodded in continued appreciation for the deliciousness before her.

Elinor had been with them for dinner for the past few weeks, so tonight's dinner without her while she was working late seemed very quiet. Santana sensed a vacancy in the beautiful girl across from her, but perhaps Brittany was just tired. Or perhaps they'd been together so long, they didn't have much to say to each other. Maybe this was supposed to happen to couples.

"The house looks good," Santana commented. It did; Brittany kept it in tip-top shape, more so now that she wasn't working. "I noticed you even fixed the light bulb over the ice dispenser. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Santana took a few more bites in silence.

Brittany stirred her soup extensively between each bite.

"I miss working," Brittany said, finally giving voice to the cloud above her. "I miss helping people."

"You're a good caretaker, Britt," Santana said, putting her hand Brittany's wrist.

"But now I don't have anyone to take care of." Brittany gave a dejected shrug, lifting her hand up against Santana's and setting it back down.

"That's not true. Elinor really needs you. She's kind of a mess." It was true. Elinor's emotions had been on a roller coaster. Sometimes she was angry when something little happened like running out of toothpaste and sometimes she burst into tears in the middle of a Jersey Shore rerun.

"She's a hot mess," Brittany agreed, still staring at her soup.

"So you can take care of her. She loves hanging out with you."

Brittany shrugged again. "It's not the same as a full-time job…"

"Well… you can take care of me," Santana offered with a cheeky smile. She knew a little humor would go a long way with Brittany. "Some people might argue that's a full-time job. And I'll compensate you generously," she winked.

Brittany let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Yeah… I guess while I'm looking for work I can be your little housewife. I'll even wear an apron and heels."

"Oh my god, baby, that might be the sexiest thing you've ever said to me," Santana joked, setting down her spoon and rolling her eyes back into her head as she slumped down in her chair. The suggestion that Brittany would serve as a traditional, old-fashioned housewife amused both of them. They had never subscribed to gender roles and preferred it that way.

Brittany laughed. "I'll have your slippers and pipe waiting for you when you get home every night," she giggled.

"Oh, Brittany… don't stop!" Santana groaned, throwing her head back and running a hand through her hair. "You're driving me crazy!"

Brittany laughed louder, her head tilting back at Santana's dramatic performance. She kept going. "And I'll make you a home-cooked dinner every night…"

Santana moaned, arching her back.

"… And then you can sit in front of the fire and read the paper while I do the dusting."

"So close, Britt!" Santana slammed a hand down on the table, making the silverware rattle.

"I'll even iron your shirts for you."

"Yes! Oh! Brittany!" Santana yelled in a faked climax.

Brittany was laughing now, the full kind of laugh that hurts one's belly after a few moments. As her laughter died down, she sighed. "You're funny, S." She chuckled a few more times. "I needed that."

"Me too," Santana said with a nod, sitting up straight and picking up her spoon again. "But not nearly as much as I need you," she smiled.

Brittany smiled back, sitting up straighter in her chair. She took a bite of soup and swirled it in her mouth for a moment before swallowing. She took several more bites, slumping down just a bit with each one. Santana finished her soup and got up to put her dishes in the sink.

"Santana?" Brittany asked, seeming timid.

"I'm the only one here," Santana called over the sound of the faucet as she rinsed her bowl.

There was a pause until Santana shut off the tap.

"Have you been faking it recently?"

Santana dropped her bowl in the sink with a loud clink. "What?" She took several quick strides back to the table where Brittany sat. "Britt, that's absurd. After seven years I think you'd know if I was faking it."

"Okay… just checking." Brittany took a bite of soup.

Santana walked back into the kitchen, shaking her head at Brittany's question. After a moment she called back, "I've never faked it with you."

A week later

"Morning baby!" Santana called, seeing Brittany in the kitchen.

"Hey honey," replied Brittany, turning around as she placed the lid on Santana's breakfast; a Tupperware filled with a bagel and some cut fruit, paired with a travel mug of coffee. She handed the containers to Santana.

"Thanks," Santana said as she accepted them. "What are you up to today?"

"I'm apartment hunting with Elinor," Brittany said, gesturing to the two plates of food on the counter.

"That's great. She could use your support."

"Hey, I know you wanted to spend time together, just you and me this weekend… but is there any way you could help us move her out of Sophie's if we find a place by then?"

"Oh, gosh… you know, I have so much work to do, I could really use the weekend to catch up. I'm sorry… But Elinor definitely needs your help, and I'm glad you have someone to spend time with."

"Okay," Brittany shrugged. "Well, we'll miss you and your strong lifting arms."

"Mellita, domi adsum," Brittany called as she walked in the door, letting in a flurry of January snowflakes. Honey, I'm home.

Santana looked up from her work and grinned at the Latin greeting. She got up and went to meet Brittany at the door with a kiss. "Hey, sexy…" she purred, making bedroom eyes. "We finally have our house back to ourselves."

"Yay," replied Brittany. Her enthusiasm didn't quite match her word choice, but Santana brushed it aside.

"I thought Elinor would never leave… Want to get in bed and watch a movie?" asked Santana. Her tone was rife with implication as she slid her arms around Brittany's waist and down over her backside, drawing their hips together.

"Why bother with the movie?" Brittany shrugged.

Santana grinned and kissed the side of Brittany's neck, licking right below Brittany's jaw. "I like the way you think," she purred.

She led Brittany into the bedroom by a loose handclasp, turning to smile at her once as they walked down the hall. When they reached the foot of the bed, Santana pulled Brittany into her by her belt loops and then cupped her face as she kissed her. Brittany responded to her lips and her tongue, but made no advances of her own.

Santana slipped off Brittany's jeans and top without any objection, then removed her own. She unceremoniously stripped her underwear, then Brittany's, before pressing her back onto the bed. Santana crawled on top, kissing Brittany's neck as if parched and Brittany was a newfound spring in a familiar clearing.

"Mmm… it's been awhile," Santana murmured into Brittany's collarbone. Her lips never left Brittany's skin, causing her words to slur a little.

Santana's kisses quickened as she pressed into the crook of Brittany's neck. This felt like her high school days; she was desperately seeking any and all contact in reckless abandonment, possible consequences forgotten. Brittany felt the feverishness with which Santana's skin felt feverish and her mouth roamed Brittany with urgency as her hands fumbled and grabbed at Brittany's curves. Brittany pulled Santana's hips down, smiling as juicy heat met thigh. Santana moaned at the contact and closed her eyes for a moment before grinding onto Brittany with adolescent need. Santana was glad Brittany wasn't playing her usual 'topping' game as she clutched at Brittany and gyrated on top of her – she wanted to be in charge tonight, and she didn't have the patience to battle Brittany for permission. She was just as passionate in bed as she had ever been.

"Someone's on fire tonight," Brittany grinned sweetly.

"Always for you…" Santana gasped.

Santana started to pant heavily, her eyes closing as she let herself be engulfed in her desire. She took her hand off of Brittany's breast to reach down and rub her own clit, sitting up a little so Brittany could watch. Soon her panting turned to moaning and Brittany smiled. Though Brittany was usually in charge of Santana's release, she loved seeing Santana get herself off, too.

"Feeling good, baby?" Brittany asked, lying still beneath her.

"Uh huh…" Santana moaned. "God, you make me so wet…"

"I feel you all over my leg." Brittany's voice was sweet and light, in stark contrast to the rough, deep tones of Santana's. It almost sounded like Brittany was singing. "Come for me. I know you want to."

Santana pursed her lips and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before pulling her hand away and sitting up straighter. "Mmm… I do want to. So bad. But you first," she said as she scrambled down, burrowing between Brittany's legs. "Getting you off first makes mine even better."

"It's okay, baby, go ahead…" Brittany protested, reaching to pull Santana back up. But Santana had moved quickly, and all Brittany could reach was her hair.

Santana slid her tongue out to sample Brittany's sex. As she fed off the sweetness that pooled there, she always lost her grounding in time. Brittany's knees jerked up a few inches as Santana began consuming her.

Santana lapped at Brittany diligently. She loved eating Brittany out – really loved it. She loved the taste. She loved the texture and the heat and the way the wetness coated her chin and cheeks and the tip of her nose. She loved that it was messy. She loved the sounds her mouth made as she licked and lapped and kissed and sucked Brittany's juices. Most of all, she loved the noises Brittany made and the way she would thrash her head about on the pillow as she pressed Santana's head deeper.

But Santana's tongue was starting to ache and Brittany wasn't thrashing yet. Nevertheless, Santana pressed on. She tried humming, hoping the vibrations would stir up Brittany's desire. She tried writing words with her tongue; first beautiful words like love and cherish and forever, and when those didn't work, she tried dirty words like pussy and fuck and come. She tried making her tongue softer, then tried making it pointier. She tried sucking harder. She tried nibbling and gently biting. Nothing was getting any reaction.

Santana slurped as she pulled her mouth away. "You want something else?" she asked, panting.

"No, feels good baby…" Brittany murmured, sounding half-asleep.

Santana looked up and saw Brittany had her arm over her eyes. "You sure?" she asked.

"Uh huh," Brittany replied, nodding from under her arm.

Santana returned to dutifully licking and sucking. After a while, Brittany still hadn't progressed, so Santana slipped two fingers inside and focused her mouth solely on Brittany's clit. Brittany let out an unconvincing grunt.

Santana pumped her hand in and out in the same way she had done for ages; it wasn't an even piston, but rather an elongated circular motion that slowed and pressed up into Brittany. Meanwhile, her tongue traced the familiar pattern against Brittany's clit, alternating between long, slow licks up and down and quick, rougher zigzags back and forth. Santana made even, slow pulses of pressure with her lips. This had been the right combination for years, but Brittany wasn't panting or clutching her breasts or pressing Santana's head deeper. Brittany wasn't doing much of anything.

Santana decided to try a different approach.

"Mmm… baby you taste so fucking good," she mumbled into Brittany. She kept licking and sucking, her tongue's movements matching the zeal of her words. "Feeling you all over my face makes me so hot…" She lapped and sucked some more. Getting little reaction, she switched the placement of her hand and tongue, drawing circles on Brittany' clit with her fingers while her tongue alternated between darting in and out and languid strokes up and down the length of Brittany's center. Santana felt Brittany's hips rise up slightly to meet her mouth. That was a good sign.

"I'm gonna keep fucking you with my tongue until you come all over my face…" She made a broad stroke with her tongue upwards, curling it as it met her fingers. "Then I'll clean you with my mouth… I'll drink up all your come and ask for more."

Brittany quivered a little bit.

Santana returned her head lower to keep fucking Brittany with her tongue, her fervor renewed now that she had felt some sort of response. She made the movements of her mouth louder, slurping and smacking as much as she could, knowing it would turn Brittany on. Brittany tilted her hips up for a moment before they returned to settle on the sheets.

Santana was discouraged. If she could just get Brittany to the same crazed state she was in, it would be electric between then. She made one final attempt. "I'll be so thankful for your come I'll let you do anything you want to me..."

She thought for sure that would do it for Brittany; Brittany loved feeling she had complete reign over Santana's willing body. But the only reaction Santana got was a forced moan. Santana decided to stop talking; she felt too vulnerable speaking those phrases when she got such a lackluster response.

Santana continued the combination with her hands and tongue. After a few minutes, she heard Brittany begin to make noises, but they were odd and strained.

"Yes…. Right there…" Brittany whined. Santana was confused – she hadn't moved her fingers or tongue to a new place.

Brittany lifted her hips up a bit before moaning.

"Oh! Haaa… UGH!" Brittany shouted, lifting her back up off the bed too gracefully before floating back down. She sighed. Her breathing was immediately too steady.

Santana stilled her fingers and tongue, her eyes flying open in shock.

"That was good baby…" Brittany mumbled, arm still over her eyes.

Brittany was a terrible actress.

Santana's desire ran cold before churning into anger. She wiped her face with the corner of the sheet, flinging it away as she sat up. Gritting her teeth, she crawled to her side of the bed and flopped down, crossing her arms over her breasts. She faced the wall, burning as she tried to take slow, deep breaths into her belly. The more she replayed Brittany's performance, the tighter her jaw got and the more the silence in the room pressed into her ears. Finally she had to release.

"Don't ever fake it with me, Britt."

Santana felt some relief, but when Brittany didn't respond after several moments, the tension only escalated. Why didn't Brittany say anything? It was so unlike her. The weight of the silence pressed on Santana like a lead blanket. Brittany only broke the silence with the soft slipping sound of the sheets as she rolled to face the opposite wall, pulling the covers around her.

Santana fumed in silence. She wondered if it would be too harsh to go sleep on the couch. On one hand, she certainly couldn't fall asleep like this. On the other hand, she didn't want to make a bad situation worse. Perhaps she was only weighing the pros and cons because she was too rigid with resentment to move. No sooner had she decided to stay put when she heard Brittany's breathing shift, indicating she was asleep. Santana squeezed her eyes together, as if doing so would help her fall asleep. It didn't.

Things weren't much better the next morning. Santana awoke bitter, hungover from the previous night's anger. She showered quickly and got ready for class in silence, keeping her eyes down when she saw in the bathroom mirror that Brittany was awake in the bedroom behind her. She closed the bathroom door to put on her makeup and dry her hair.

When she walked down the hall to the kitchen on her way out, Brittany had placed a travel mug of coffee and a Tupperware of food next to her briefcase as usual; a bagel with cream cheese, a few strawberries, and two pieces of bacon. Santana had already darted out the door before Brittany could turn around and speak.

Santana came home that night to find a bowl of floating gardenias waiting for her on the table. Next to the bowl was a card Brittany had hand-made. On the front was a mosaic heart made of tiny pieces of multicolor tissue paper. Santana felt she was able to fully exhale for the first time that day as she opened the card and read the note inside.

My Dearest S,

I'm so sorry about last night. You had every right to be angry with me. I can only imagine how awful I would feel if you had done that to me. I should have communicated with you better. Please accept my apology - I promise it won't happen again.

You'll always be the sexiest woman I know.

I love you,

Britt-Britt

P.S. I can't wait to see you when I get home from helping Elinor finish moving. Your dinner is in the fridge – heat on high for a minute and a half:)

Santana pressed the card to her chest, feeling it settle from a day of boiling. She bent to smell the gardenias. As she inhaled, memories of their senior prom rose to the surface of her consciousness. She marveled at how instantly her mind produced a picture of Brittany in that pale pink dress, walking with her head held high into the dance holding her hand. With that image, she remembered exactly how wonderful the past seven years had been. She sighed as she stood upright and went into the kitchen to retrieve her dinner.

As she ate, she realized how exhausted she was – being angry took a lot out of her! Setting a timer on her phone, she vowed to work on an assignment for one hour. When the phone buzzed, she put on her pajamas, got in bed, and give in to her body's demand for sleep.

She awoke to the sound of the front door closing. She smiled; Brittany was home. Moments later she heard Brittany slip into the bedroom, tiptoeing into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. Santana rolled over, eyes squinting at the panel of light under the bathroom door. She could see the shadows made by Brittany's feet as they waltzed back and forth to her nighttime routine; flossing, brushing her teeth, then her hair, and washing her face. It was the only nighttime routine Santana could remember ever watching. Brittany turned off the light before opening the bathroom door so she wouldn't disturb Santana.

"Hey baby," Santana mumbled. She yawned and twisted her head so she could make out Brittany's figure in the dark.

"Hey honey." Santana could hear the smile in Brittany's whisper as she walked to the other side of the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay. I wanted to see you," Santana murmured, reaching her hand into the dark for Brittany's. Brittany pulled off her shirt before crawling onto the bed the kiss Santana in response. Their lips slipped between one another and smiled at the same time; they were okay again. Brittany kissed Santana one more time for good measure before crawling back off the bed.

"How was the move?" Santana asked.

"Exhausting," Brittany sighed, setting her watch on the bedside table. "Elinor has so much stuff. Mostly shoes, I think."

"How is she?"

"She's having a hard time," Brittany answered as she put on a t-shirt and changed into some sweats. "Sophie isn't making this easy on her… she showed up while we were packing up the last car load with flowers and jewelry and a speech prepared. That and a truckload of promises she's made before." Brittany lifted the covers and climbed in the bed, letting a draft run up Santana's side. "But Elinor will be okay. She's strong."

"Mm hm." Santana nodded into the pillow as she pulled the covers up around her. Brittany scooted in on her side. Her hips always made the perfect nook for Santana to slide into. Santana hummed as she shimmied back, the warmth of Brittany's body making up for the draft she had just let in.

"I'm so grateful we're both healthy and happy," Brittany said earnestly into Santana's hair.

"Mmm… me too," Santana hummed.

Brittany lifted her head to kiss the back of Santana's neck, which was moist with sleep-sweat. "Have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you?" she whispered.

"Yeah," Santana smiled into the dark. "Once or twice."

Brittany's arm wrapped around Santana's waist as she set her head back down on the pillow. "So, so lucky …" she murmured.