I think that I'm— I think that I'm— I think that I'm— for days, Santana replays those four words over and over in her head. Brittany doesn't bring it up again. Not after dinner, when Liam plays with Maribel as Santana loads the dishwasher with Brittany. Not later that night, when they make out, fully clothed on Santana's bed, while Liam sleeps on the couch. Not the next night either, not even after Santana lays, totally spent on Brittany's pillow, and she feels blue eyes piercing into her. She doesn't say anything, and Santana doesn't ask, though it drives her absolutely mad with suspense.

Being back on days means that Santana's caseload increases. She still hasn't been able to operate further on little Sammy Franklin, but she's gaining weight every day, and the next steps of her treatment plan are in place. She's got two cases with Dr. Holiday, who still tries to convince her to get another board certification in neonatal surgery. It's something she's considered, especially given how well she works with such a prolific maternal surgeon—Santana watched her do a uterine transplant, then two years later, deliver triplets from it—but she's so good at peds that she worries that she'll never live up to her own standards in another field. But Santana will take cases with Holly's full term babies. She's confident in that at least.

"So, girlfriend, what's up with you?" Holly asks, as they're scrubbing in for a delivery, followed by a heart valve repair on the newborn.

"What?" Santana stops, mid-scrub to look at the wry smile on Holly's face. "Nothing's up."

"Really? 'Cuz I've seen a lot of ladies in love, mostly with me, of course, and you've been walking around this place like you're floating on air. I almost didn't recognize you without your slumpy walk and that sulk thing you've usually got going on."

"I'm not—" Santana scrunches up her nose, and tries not to look alarmed at her own realization—I think that I'm—but she's fairly certain that she's unsuccessful. Her poker face is absolutely awful, and it makes her panic more. "Just because I'm in a half-decent mood doesn't mean I'm suddenly all schmoopy and in love."

"Okay then. If you say so."

It bugs Santana through the surgery. It makes her skin crawl. She likes Holly. She admires Holly. She trustsHolly. But still, she doesn't like anyone being interested in her business. She doesn't like when anyone points out things that she hasn't shared about herself. She doesn't like that she's obvious in her affections, even if—at least she hopes—not one has noticed that those affections are specifically for one Dr. Brittany Pierce. Those affections, she certainly has but…love? That big, scary l-word feels heavy on her tongue, even before she tries to say it. Does she l…love Brittany? Is that…is that what Brittany was going to say, before they were interrupted in the kitchen? I think that I'm— falling in love with you? Could it be? Santana shakes her head as she pulls off her scrub cap. She keeps shaking it as she walks down the hall to her office. She keeps shaking it, even as she smiles at the message on her phone sitting on her desk—Meet me in my office at 6? Made beef stew this morning. :*

She's still shaking her head, at least, internally, throughout the rest of the day, and right on through packing her things to leave. It's too big, too much. Her feelings, and the idea that maybe Brittany has similar ones. She doesn't know how to process them, not in the slightest. Really, she considers skipping dinner. Really, she considers holing up in her apartment with takeout and a marathon of Jane the Virgin. What if Brittany is in love with her? What if Brittany isn't in love with her? Either scenario seems entirely too terrifying.

"Hey." Brittany looks up from her computer, when Santana comes in to her office, hands wrung behind her back. "Give me five…maybe ten-ish minutes?"

"Everything okay?" Santana notices the crease in Brittany's forehead, and the way her glasses are perched on her nose.

"Yeah, just budgetary paperwork. I'm a little behind because I'm down a surgeon."

"You didn't tell me that." Sitting down on the cream leather couch across from Brittany's desk, Santana picks at her cuticles.

"I have been since I started." She shrugs. "I haven't interviewed anyone who really seems like a good fit."

"So a plastics guy who isn't a dick?" Brittany winces at Santana's words, and she immediately feels bad. "Sorry."

"It's fine. I mean, it's true, but…"

"I don't mean you."

"I know you don't. But really, Santana, I'm not an outlier. I've got a great department, and the exception of maybe Evans, who has some kind of obsession with pectoral augmentation, they share my vision for what plastics means. How do I make you see that?"

"I…I don't know, Brittany."

"Come here." She whispers, eyes flickering to the closed blinds as Santana stands up, and slowly approaches her desk.

Santana still wrings her hands as she stands there, but Brittany separates them gently, tilting her head up to look Santana in the eyes. At the look in them, Santana's heart rate quickens. She's giving her that look, that one that's just too much for her. Thumbs trail up her thighs, over her stomach, and fall to rest just below her breasts, grazing the underside of them. Santana gasps a little, like she always does, but Brittany doesn't tear her eyes away.

"Just wanted to remind you that you're beautiful."

"I—"

"You. Are. Beautiful." Brittany kisses her between each word. "No matter what you think, no matter what anyone ever told you. You're gorgeous, every bit of you."

"Why are you—?" Santana laughs at herself before she can finish her sentences. "How do you make me feel like this?"

"If it's anything like you make me feel, then I have absolutely no idea."

"I don't think you ever don't have the answers." She whispers, not because she's trying to keep quiet, but because she can't seem to make her voice any louder. "That's really weird."

"L—feelings are weird. But I have them for you, lots of them." Brittany shakes her head, reminded, Santana thinks of her work, of what they were just talking about. "Most of us aren't like that, Santana. Not just me."

"Okay."

"Don't placate me. I know you don't believe it."

"I'll try to believe it. For you."

"I—" Brittany sucks in a breath. "Believe it for you. Believe it so you can sleep better at night."

"That probably won't happen." She shakes her head, letting out a small, bitter chuckle. "I take Ambien. That's how I sleep."

"I know."

"You…how?" Santana sucks in a breath, this crushing weight resting on her chest. She wonders how she knows. She wonders if she knows about the other medication. She wonders—

"You told me. The night you first slept over, after you'd already taken it."

"Oh." She breathes in, she breathes out. She tries to calm herself down. She tries not to look as frenzied as she feel. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Why would it bother me? We all do what we have to do to get by. We're doctors, we fix things. You have trouble sleeping, you take something to help."

"How do you make everything so simple, Britt?" It's the first time Santana shortens her name like that, and she watches Brittany's eyes crinkle at it. She hasn't told her everything, she's not ready yet, but it's a start.

"Because most of the time, it's simpler than you think." She brushes hair off Santana's face, and turns back to her computer. "I guess I'll just work on this tomorrow."

"No, no. Finish it. I'll run down and get some coffee. You want?"

"I always do."

Santana goes downstairs. Her knees have a gelatin feeling to them. She thinks that maybe, maybe, Brittany almost said the l-word again. She thinks maybe, maybe she actually wanted her to. Truthfully, she's not sure what she'd say back if she did. She's not sure how she'd react at all. But there's just something about this woman. Something that makes her believe she won't run. Something that makes her believe that she'd kiss her, and even if she couldn't say it back just yet, Brittany would know.

When they leave the hospital, Brittany still seems a little stressed. Santana isn't really sure how to handle that, because Brittany always seems so together, so she tries to give her space. She opens the wine bottle for her, and she pours it nearly to the top. She kisses her lips, and thinks about how she'd feel, if she accidentally said the words she's trying to process, how they both would feel. She even tells her to go play with Liam, and she'll make the rice to go with the stew. She singes it at the bottom, but still, it's a solid effort, and it makes Brittany smile. That's all Santana wants, she realizes. Not just today, but every day. She wants Brittany to smile. She wants Brittany to smile at her. It makes her feel warm inside. It makes her feel cared about, cherished…and something bigger.

Santana helps with bath time. She's never done that before, but Liam begs her to come see his new submamine. He begs her, and when he looks up at Santana with those big, dark eyes, she's powerless to say no to him.

It doesn't shock Santana, when Liam is undressed and in the water just how much of his body is scarred. Frankly, she'd actually thought it might be more, given the scarring on his face, but still, it's jarring. Not the sight of his injuries, but once again, at the fact that this tiny little boy probably shouldn't even be alive right now. That the sheer force of a mother's love is why he's sitting here, splashing the woman who stepped into very big shoes. It's a beautiful thing, and a strange moment for Santana. A moment where she sees physical scars for what they truly are, marks of a survivor.

She's interested in his right arm. At the stage she's at in her relationship, she doesn't feel comfortable asking Brittany, but still, she's curious. Visibly, there's no sign of anything that would prevent the use of it, no out of place bones or scarring beyond what marks everywhere else. But she sees the atrophied muscle, she sees how even in the bath, sloshing and dipping his submarine below the surface of the water, Liam makes no effort to use it. It's an extremity he barely recognizes, she thinks, it's an extremity that for his entire memorable life has served no functional purpose.

It's always awkward after Liam's bedtime. That's Santana's own issue, she knows, but tonight feels especially so. Tonight feels full of unsaid words, of unfelt feelings. Tonight feels like a precipice. Tonight…tonight means something, Santana can feel it. Tonight means something, and Santana is trying with all she has in her to feel unafraid.

"Are you…?" Brittany trails off, the same question she asks Santana every night she's there.

"If you want me to." Santana gives the same answer.

"I do."

"Then yes."

It's a comfortable familiarity. They have another glass of wine. They go to the couch, and put on some bad comedy that Brittany can't get enough of—I need mindless TV, I can't watch anything heavy after work, she's told her—and Santana's head ends up on Brittany shoulder. From there, there's always a kiss, then another, and then another. It should feel boring, tired, but it doesn't. Santana craves routine. Santana craves this, and the excitement, it comes from the kisses. It comes from Brittany weaving her hands though dark locks, then pulling back to look into Santana's eyes. It comes from Brittany pulling her closer, kissing her harder, until she's breathless. It comes from feeling wanted.

When they go upstairs, Santana feels a new sort of desire. It's more than sexual attraction. It's more, even, than magnetic attraction. It's deeper, it's bigger, it's just…more, and it changes something in their dynamic. Santana isn't hesitant, waiting for Brittany to take off her shirt, waiting for Brittany to prove that she wants her. She doesn't need that, not today. She feels it, in the way Brittany looks at her. She feels it in the way Brittany presses against her. She feels it, just somewhere deep inside of her.

Straddling Brittany, Santana pulls her own shirt over her head. She's unashamed, even as she unclasps her bra and lets it fall down, straps catching in the bends of her elbows. It's the first time she's felt so comfortable, so confident and she tilts her head up, catching Brittany's lips. She holds the kiss for a long time, just taking it in, and she feels it. She feels how Brittany smiles against her mouth. She feels how Brittany just knows how she makes her feel. She feels like everything around her could disappear but this moment, and she's be okay with just Brittany, Brittany, Brittany.

When she finally pulls back, she wastes no time on the buttons of her shirt. She loves when Brittany does this. She loves how she'll slip out of those pencil skirts she wears, and into sweatpants, but she won't change her top. She loves undoing the buttons, slowly, slowly revealing creamy skin inch by inch. She loves kissing what she reveals, and feeling Brittany's heart jump beneath her lips. She loves…her. She loves Brittany, this maddening woman, who's too kind, who's too put together, who's too everything. She loves her, and it hits Santana hard and fast, making her freeze in her tracks, lips pressed against Brittany's sternum, thump, thump, thump of a heart—hers or Brittany's, she's not sure—coursing though her.

"You okay?" Brittany whispers, breath ragged, and eyes piercing into Santana.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah. Yeah. I just…." Santana sucks in air, and then, before she can say it, she chickens out. "You're just really pretty."

"You are too." She smiles, and Santana feels it, seeping into her bones, radiating through her. "The prettiest."

Santana can't get close enough. It's almost like she wants to crawl inside Brittany, to stay surrounded in her forever, but she can't. She just…has to think of something humanly possible instead. Sexual intimacy with Brittany, that's the next best thing. The very best thing Santana has ever experienced, but the next best to the impossible.

She considers her options, as she looks into Brittany's eyes, and her heart races at the possibilities. Her heart races at truly believing that she'd be comfortable doing absolutely anything. Her heart races at the fact that she's gone from someone who never trusted a single soul, into someone who's just free-fell into the depths of it, who trusts Brittany Pierce more than she trusts herself.

Slowly, she rolls Brittany's pants down her legs, letting her kick them to the floor. Slowly, she unbuttons her own, struggling a little with the fabric of the jeans, and looking down, almost sheepish, when Brittany lets out a little laugh. But it doesn't stop her. Not at all. It takes everything for Santana not to moan, when she feels the heat of Brittany's sex radiating so close to her own, and kissing without pause, she pushes Brittany onto her back.

Blonde hair splayed over the pillow, and Brittany's wanton sort of smile spurs Santana. Grazing teeth over her clavicle—stopping at a freckle on the right side—Santana trails her fingers over Brittany's sides, down, down around her naval, then just to the left of the apex of her thighs. Brittany arches, as Santana's pinkie teases her outer lips and her forefinger tickles the crease of her thigh. Her legs drop open, and Santana fits between them, kissing her neck, her chin, her lips again, before slipping her fingers through waiting wetness, and bringing them to her lips.

"God, you look so sexy like that." Brittany pants, and Santana rakes her hand through her hair, trying to muster her most sultry look.

"You taste so sexy." She sucks her fingers, then brings them back between her legs, sheathing them completely in wet heat, in one quick thrust. "You feel so sexy."

"You feel…so…" A moan breaks free from Brittany's throat, and she pulls Santana's face to her own, kissing, kissing, kissing, until Santana is dizzy, and almost forgets just what she was doing.

Brittany comes the first time, legs wrapping around Santana's waist, and hands finding purchase on her breasts. Slowly, Santana retracts her fingers, but she's not done. Briefly, she considers sliding down Brittany's body. She considers the way she feels when Brittany winds her hands in her hair and pulls her closer. She considers looking up, and seeing her look down at her, pupils blown and cheeks flushed, but eyes never leaving her face. She considers it, and she almost does, but then…then she considers something else. She considers how it would feel to rock herself against Brittany. She considers how it would feel to come against Brittany's sex, to feel Brittany come against her own.

She's never done this before—obviously, really—so she's hesitant. Do people actually do this, or is it some sort of myth perpetuated by pornography and the Internet? She's not really sure, but she wants to do it, regardless. Brittany gets it, she thinks, when Santana spreads her legs again, clamped close in tremors of aftershock. She wraps her arms around Santana's neck, pulling Santana down, pulling herself up, and she rolls Santana onto her back, waiting for her nod, before she takes the lead.

"Oh, God." Santana gasps, once her limbs her manipulated so Brittany can position herself, the wetness, the heat, the pulsing of Brittany's clit against her own just entirely overwhelming her. "Oh fucking God."

Brittany kisses her over and over, tongue curling in her mouth, swallowing her moans. It takes a little bit, but Santana gets her own rhythm, canting her hips up to match when Brittany's come down, sparking, sparking everywhere. It's surreal, almost, and Santana has to wrap her arms around Brittany's back, she has to brace herself, as she fights to stave off the orgasm that balls and builds, low in her belly, fights to brace herself, until Brittany is ready too.

"Let go, baby." Brittany's breathes against cheek, and the endearment undoes her.

Her body shudders, and Brittany presses further into her, spurring her own. The feeling of the simultaneous sensations is almost too much for Santana. It's almost enough to make her cry. It's almost enough to completely end her. The waves of pleasure keep coming, and she grabs for Brittany's face, arching up to kiss her, arching up to feel her more. This, this is almost like crawling inside of her. Limbs tangled, tongues tangled, the pulsing, pulsing of both their bodies, and more than anything, this terrifying swell in Santana's chest—tachycardia, it must be this time—it's the closest two humans can be, it's…it's everything.

They don't untangle, not for a long time. It should be uncomfortable, the way Santana's leg is bent, the way Brittany's weight presses on her opposite hip. But it's not. It's the most comfortable, the most settled Santana has ever felt. They don't talk, even. They just trade soft kisses, nudges, and Brittany does that thing, that lookthat makes Santana feel like she could die right now, and she'd be okay, knowing someone has ever looked at her like she's this special. Sometime after midnight, Brittany goes to move, and Santana pulls her back. Again, Brittany kisses her, and she shifts, keeping their limbs entangled, but holding her from behind, hands on her breasts, chin pressed into her shoulder.

"Okay?"

"Mmhm. Good." Santana hums, pressing further back into her.

"Santana."

"Brittany." They say each other's names simultaneously, and Brittany laughs, lips grazing Santana's clavicle. "You go."

"I—"

"I love you." Santana blurts out, realizing after she gives Brittany permission to speak first that if she waits, she'll lose her nerve, that this reverie she's in will give way to anxiety. Even before it does, her heart hammers against her rib cage.

She wonders, wonders, if anyone has ever broken a rib from their heart pounding too hard against them. It's medically impossible, she knows it, but, in this moment, it seems like a great possibility. Her eyes squeeze shut, and she waits, prays, even, that Brittany says it back. Please, please, please say it, she begs some invisible force, until she feels Brittany's thumb on her cheek, and she turns her head slowly, watching the way those blue eyes sparkle, watching a soft smile spread across her face.

"I've been almost saying it for two weeks." Brittany shakes her head. "I almost slipped so many times, but I didn't want to freak you out."

"So you…?" Santana sucks in air, then sucks in some more, figuring that she'll probably need the extra.

"Of course I do." She laughs, kissing the side of Santana's mouth.

"Can you…can you say it?" It's a whisper, and Santana should probably be embarrassed at her desperation for it, but she's not. She's just never needed to hear three words more. She's never needed to feel three words more.

"I love you, Santana. I love you, a lot."

"Is it…" Santana turns into Brittany, breasts pressed against hers, nose brushing. "Is this too soon?"

"I think I loved you since the first time I saw you with my son. It's definitely not too soon."

"But…I was such a bitch to you then."

"You were." Brittany kisses her, slow, soft, before she pulls back again. "It kind of messed me up, the way I couldn't stand you, but then I watched you being so gentle and sweet with him. I've seen people avert their eyes from him, or just…I don't know, be kind of crappy. But you, even though you were crappy to me, you weren't to him. That was really something else."

"He's magnetic. Everything about him. He's so, so special, Brittany. I deal with kids all day every day, but I never get attached. And then there was this kid, and his mom who made me absolutely insane."

"I hope now it's in a good way?"

"Now it's in the best way. I never thought I'd be really, totally happy, but…you make me so happy. You, and Liam too."

"Good. That's what we want."

"Brittany?" Santana asks, breaking a silence that follows their heartfelt words. "You're happy, right?"

"Very. Sorry that tonight I was so stressed. I'm not usually like that."

"I know." Santana purses her lips. "Is it just work stuff?"

"The work stuff is fine. I'm behind, but it is what it is." She shrugs a little, and Santana feels the urge to pull her closer, to put a hand on her lower back and scratch it. "Liam has an appointment on Monday. You'd think as a doctor, I wouldn't freak myself out every time."

"Do you want to talk about it?" It feels very adult, very personal, two things Santana is fundamentally notgood at. But this is her girlfriend. This is the woman who supports her without waver. This is the woman shewants to support, always.

"Yeah, maybe." Brittany sucks in a breath, and Santana thinks she sounds small, the opposite of the large presence she normally is. "So Liam gets physical therapy."

"His arm?"

"Yeah. He dislocated his shoulder, when…" She trails off, and Santana nods, telling her she doesn't have to say it out loud if she doesn't want to. "With everything else going on, they didn't notice it for five days. I don't know if noticing it earlier would have done anything, or what. But he's got severe radial and axillary nerve damage."

"And the therapy?"

"Three years, and no improvement."

"So they want to surgically intervene."

"Yeah. I mean, that's the next step, I guess. I recommend surgery for so many things all the time. But when it's my kid…I would do anything to keep him from ever going under the knife again. They don't even…he might get sixty-percent function back, he might get five. I don't know."

"Who is it?"

"I didn't want a doctor for him at Columbia. I felt like…I don't know, I should separate it."

"Okay."

"You don't sound like you agree." Her brow furrows, and Santana's neck flushes.

"It's not my thing to agree or disagree on."

"That doesn't mean I don't value your opinion, Santana."

"I just know everyone in the orthopedic department. So maybe I'm biased…"

"If it were your kid, who would you take them to see?"

"Brittany, I—"

"Can you answer it for me? Please?" Brittany looks into Santana's eyes, pleading almost. She doesn't think she should intervene, she doesn't feel right, but she does anyway.

"Liz Stevens. I'd go right to the head of the department."

"And she's good?"

"She's one of the best orthopedists in the world. I've only been in surgery with her twice, and once, she reconstructed an entire leg for one of my patients who got hit by a cab. She's sixty-eight, and has the stamina of an eighteen year old. Seventeen hours of surgery, and she was still going."

"Okay." Brittany sucks in a breath. "Okay, that's good to know."

"I don't want to—"

"You're not, I promise. I just want to do what's right by Liam. I have to think about how much of my personal and professional life I can overlap, but I'm really, really glad to hear your opinion."

"You're not mad?"

"Santana." Brittany shakes her head, thumb rubbing Santana's hip bone. "You're an incredible doctor, and I'm never going to be mad because we disagree about things. I wanted to know your opinion, because what you think about things are a factor for me. I really, really love that you were honest. I really love you."

"Can you say that again?"

"You're really cute." Brittany leans in again, catching Santana's lower lip, and kissing her. "I love you, I love you, I love you."