A/N: This came to me completely out of the blue. I like that Santana and Brittany have what I see as a really strong friendship, which I think is the best kind of foundation for a relationship.
Incidentally, I don't think I ever mentioned that I was inspired to write these one-shots and drabbles by GingerGleek, an amazing fanfic author whose work you should absolutely check out. She is currently on her third installment of Glee drabbles (Drabbles A La Glee 3), which is awesome. I really liked the idea of having a collection of unrelated, non-character-specific drabbles, especially because I often have ideas for short scenes bouncing around my head without any clue how to fit them into longer stories. So I latched onto the idea and went with it.
Disclaimed.
"San?" the blonde says worriedly, staring at the Latina. "Say something!"
Santana lifts her head then to look her girlfriend in the eyes, and Brittany is shocked to see the sheen of tears there. The normally bubbly girl instantly panics, because this is Santana, and she never cries, not in all the years they've known each other. Not when they were playmates in the sandbox in elementary school, not when they endured the tyrannical reign of Sue Sylvester together, not in college when they pledged the same sorority, and certainly not since they moved to Boston together so that Brittany could open a dance studio and Santana could work at a big law firm there.
"It's too much, isn't it? I'm—I'm sorry, I know you wanted to be able to see other people and do the whole open relationship thing, but these past months it's just been you and me, so I thought maybe it was okay now," she babbles. "Is it Mark? Or Chris? Oh, god, it is, it's Chris, isn't it? It's about Chris. I know you really liked him. It's okay, really, I still love you, and I can take it back—"
The former head Cheerio abruptly pulls the blonde's face down to her own for a passionate kiss, effectively cutting her off. Brittany looks at her, confused. "San?"
"It's not too much," she says lowly, her voice wavering with the threat of tears. "It's perfect. You're perfect, Brit." She stares down at the marquise cut diamond ring nestled in the small box her girlfriend holds, the tears now spilling over silently.
Brittany wraps her arms around the Latina hesitantly, then pulls back, brushing a kiss against Santana's forehead. "Are you sure, San? Because if you're not ready for this, if you still want time, that's okay, I'm not going anywhere. This isn't an ultimatum."
Santana shakes her head vehemently. "No. I'm ready for this, I don't want anyone else. I don't think I ever really did, Brit, no one can compare to you." They are both smiling widely now, and the blonde reaches forward to tenderly cup her girlfriend's—fiancee's—face before leaning in for another kiss.
"I love you, San."
"I love you too," the brunette breathes. "It's always been you, Brit. Always."