Hello. Not too much angst this time, I don't think. Buuuut it's still angsty, lol. I can't wait until the show gets fluffy again so I can write something that's not sad and awful. These depressing-ass songs I keep choosing for inspiration aren't really helping either, lmao, sorry everyone!

Thanks for reading, though! And also, thanks for reviewing! Now leave me alone to die.

Happy angst-ing! D:

I put your picture away
I wonder where you've been
I can't look at you while I'm lying
Next to him

Brittany knows who's making her phone vibrate before she looks at it, and, not for the first time, she glances over her shoulder to check that Sam is still sleeping before she looks down at the dimly-lit screen. Santana's name shines back at her, along with a blue text message bubble.

Come downstairs.

Sighing quietly, Brittany slips out of her bed and pulls on sweatpants, sparing one more look at Sam's quietly snoring form before silently exiting her room. She pads down the stairs, shaking her head, because what did she expect? Of course Santana would turn up after-

Brittany opens the front door. Santana- she sighs, running a hand through her tousled blonde hair, as the sight of Santana's hunched form fills her vision.

I'm sorry, Santana says, and Brittany can hear the tininess of her voice, can hear her swallowing back tears. I had to see you.

You saw me yesterday, Brittany murmurs, her blue eyes dark and intense and burning into Santana's. She ignores the hurt that flashes over Santana's face (because honestly, when has seeing Santana the day before ever deterred Brittany from wanting to see her the next day?) in favor of letting anger consume her instead. She feels frustrated, just a little- because it's so much harder to pretend Santana doesn't exist when she's right there in front of her looking breathtakingly beautiful and smelling even better, and why does Santana have to keep making it so hard for her? Brittany's trying to survive, she's trying to- not move on, but at least find happiness knowing Santana is happy in New York, but the sight of Santana's upset face just destroyed all of those thoughts of Santana's happiness, and now Brittany just feels frustrated, just feels empty.

Santana nods in response, defeated, her eyes shiny as she blinks and swallows. Her voice is low and shaky and Brittany wonders what happened to make Santana so vulnerable and forlorn. Can I- can I come in?

Brittany shakes her head, her eyes darting over her shoulder into the house, as if making sure the occupants are still asleep, and then she looks past Santana to the driveway, noticing the absence of Santana's car. Santana must've seen Sam's truck and parked down the street. Brittany swallows, knowing that Santana knows who's at Brittany's house but asked to enter anyway, as if forcing Brittany to confirm-

Sam's here, Brittany reminds, almost scolding, a little angry that Santana's pretending she doesn't know. Sam's here because seeing Santana at the not-wedding, feeling so much distance between them, was more than Brittany could bear. She could see how black Santana was, how bitter she had been, and it only hurt Brittany more, knowing there was nothing Brittany could do for Santana. She felt trapped, and so she did the only thing she could do- Brittany danced, and, yeah, it was with Sam, but Brittany couldn't dance with Santana, and she liked Sam well enough… but seeing Santana at the not-wedding and not being able to kiss her or touch her or hold her and tell her that everything would be okay- to watch as the memories of last year's Valentine's Day together flashed over Santana's bitter face- left Brittany in a sad place, and she needed to forget, she needed to lose herself. She needed Santana, but- she could only have Sam.

And Sam's currently sleeping upstairs, and Brittany's still hurting inside, especially with the sight of Santana reopening her raw wounds, and they can't do this right now, Brittany can't do this right now-

Santana surges forward and kisses her- hard- and Brittany doesn't resist. She melts, she cups Santana's face and kisses back, but then Santana's pulling away, nervous, too full of energy, and resting her forehead on hers, breathing shakily.

Then come with me, Santana breathes, letting her thumb stroke Brittany's cheek.

San-

Please, Britt, Santana whispers, voice so full of emotion and longing that it makes Brittany's heart ache. Please.

Brittany swallows and nods. Let me get my coat.

They walk down the street, and Brittany feels the emptiness in her hand where Santana's should be. As if reading her mind, Santana winds their fingers together, ignoring the slight bite of the morning cold on their hands as they walk. Brittany thinks about the softness, about how tiny Santana's hands are, and about how their fingers fit together so much nicer than hers do with Sam's bigger, rougher, clumsier ones.

It's early and the morning mist hasn't fully dissipated yet, and for a moment Brittany feels like her and Santana are floating alone together privately, where no one can see them or take away their happiness together- because even just holding Santana's hand has made her happy, has eased the ache in Brittany's heart from the pain of their separation the previous night. Her thoughts drift reluctantly to last night, and to the not-wedding, and how awkward it had been to see Santana when she couldn't just press a kiss to her jaw or tangle their hands together; Brittany had been trying so hard to live a Santana-free existence because she couldn't bear being reminded of Santana in everything, it was just too hard- but when Santana's around it's impossible to think she could ever not think of Santana, impossible to think of anything but Santana, but- they can't do this, Brittany can't do this-

Santana squeezes her hand, and Brittany feels calm.

Brittany knows where they are going, wrapped up in the mist- they used to take this walk often in previous years, sometimes late at night (but early was always their favorite) and as they near the park, Brittany notices Santana chewing her lip nervously.

They reach the edge of the woods lining the park and Santana backs Brittany up against their tree- their initials are carved in it from last summer, and Brittany presses her hand fondly to the carving as Santana presses forward to kiss her. Brittany fingers the worn grooves in the smooth bark and wraps her free hand around Santana's neck, pulling her closer, and remembers a time when they lived a carefree life and how Santana had flourished in her role as Brittany's girlfriend, how she had proudly declared the title to anyone who had asked, how she had carved their initials in the tree as proof that her love for Brittany was eternal- proof that Santana wasn't scared anymore- and Brittany feels sad and nostalgic and wishes that dreams didn't come at the cost of progress made over time.

They kiss and kiss and Brittany feels her control slipping with each heated stroke of Santana's tongue against hers, with each burning path Santana's hands make over her body. She moans in Santana's mouth and grips her tighter, reaching up to fist her shirt, her other hand never leaving the initials she feels linked to under her fingertips.

Without warning, Santana drops to her knees in the cold, dead brush and tugs Brittany's sweatpants down to her knees. Brittany shivers hard as the cold air hits her slick, heated flesh, but then Santana's warming her up in the best way, with her hot mouth and hotter tongue, and Brittany grips the tree trunk for dear life as Santana claims her. She feels teeth on her inner thigh, lips sucking, and knows she will have a bruise later- a reminder of this morning tryst- and her hips buck and her legs shake and tense and all the while Santana's sucking, sucking, licking strongly, swirling her tongue and then sucking again.

Brittany's hand falls to Santana's hair, the other one refusing to let go of the tree. In a way it's like Brittany feels connected to their past selves, as if by touching their initials, the reminder of their past selves, they are somehow the people they used to be together, and not the sad, broken ones they are now. Her thoughts race, her heart races, her pulse races, and she shakes and shakes, and her hips buck, and her hand tightens in Santana's hair.

Oh, God, I'm gonna come-

Santana's eyes snap up at Brittany's heated admission, her gaze intense and penetrating, and as their eyes lock, Brittany's mouth falls open with a whimpered moan of release and she can feel the vibrations of the answering moan from Santana against her throbbing center, and then she's trembling and riding the wave of her orgasm, riding Santana's hot, hot tongue, and-

Santana- fuck, I'm-

And then Brittany's coming again, barely off the crest of her first orgasm, and Santana's heated mouth just won't-

Stop, San, Brittany pants, begs, breathless, her hands shaking where they rest buried in Santana's hair. I won't be able to stand-

I've got you, Santana purrs against her slick flesh, wrapping strong arms around and under Brittany's thighs, never ceasing, relentless in her determination to reduce Brittany to a quivering puddle, to prove to Brittany- what? What is Santana trying to prove? Brittany can only spare the barest of thoughts to it, because her mind has gone blank with pleasure, and Santana's sucking again, and-

Ugh! San-tan-a-

Brittany doesn't even know how long she orgasms for- each one just blends in to the next until finally Santana pulls away, gasping, her chin glistening as the first rays of the morning sun peek through the trees, and she looks so beautiful that Brittany allows herself to sink down to her knees, hastily pulling up her sweatpants before kissing Santana fiercely- tasting herself on Santana's lips- and then she's pushing Santana back into the slightly damp, cold earth and they're kissing and kissing and-

I love you, Santana gasps, sounding nearly desperate, as if willing Brittany to understand and accept those three words, even though Brittany already has- they're the only three words she hears.

I love you, too, Brittany breathes in return, because she needs Santana to understand and accept hers just as much.

I'm going back to New York today, Santana says softly, lips resting against Brittany's jaw, arms winding around Brittany's lower back, holding her close.

Yeah? Brittany hums, tucks her head under Santana's chin and rests against her neck, breathing Santana's scent in, mixed with early morning, and Brittany smiles and thinks she likes this Santana smell the best.

Santana takes a deep breath, blurts it out: I slept with Quinn last night.

Brittany freezes, feels her stomach tense, because Brittany's not stupid- she saw the way Quinn was touching Santana, the way Quinn was looking at Santana, but she'd tried not to think about it. Yeah? She says again, only tinier, quieter, trying to cut off her own thoughts, and wonders why it takes them having sex before they can talk to each other-

Yeah, Santana whispers, her voice cracking. Brittany wonders if Santana's ashamed, if Santana regrets it-

Okay, Brittany accepts, circling her fingers nervously on Santana's warm stomach, but she senses Santana's not done. She recognizes the tone of guilt in Santana's voice, and she wants to make Santana feel better, so she closes up her heart to the pain- Santana needs a best friend right now- and listens.

Once Santana realizes Brittany's open, the words come out in a rush. I just- I missed you so much last night, and seeing you there with him-

Brittany kisses her neck reassuringly, though despite trying to stop it, her heart hurts a little. I know. It's okay. It's okay. And it is okay, in Brittany's mind. At least it was Quinn. She trusts Quinn with Santana, trusts Quinn not to hurt Santana, but most of all, she trusts Quinn not to come between their happily ever after- so Brittany can handle a few pages of their story dedicated to Quinn.

I wished she was you the whole time, Santana confesses. I wanted her to be you.

Brittany swallows hard. It's okay, she repeats, her voice the slightest bit hollow imagining Santana and Quinn, her friend- (is this how Santana felt about Sam?) (No, because Brittany isn't sad that Santana was with Quinn- Brittany is sad that even when with Quinn, Santana thought of Brittany instead, and even though Brittany does the same, even though Brittany thinks of Santana when she's with Sam, she hasn't told Santana that with words, and Brittany ponders why they do this to each other when they both just want the same things.) You're gonna need someone in New York, San. Quinn's closer than me-

No, Brittany, Santana says firmly. She tugs Brittany's face up until their eyes meet. No, she says again, softer, and Brittany sees the look in her eyes, the I just want you look, the no one compares to you so why waste time on someone else when we are forever? look, the I said NEVER look, and Brittany feels her heart thump loudly, almost painfully, in her chest.

Santana only wants her, Brittany knows. Brittany only wants Santana, has only ever wanted Santana. Brittany feels like she's been waiting for Santana forever, it seems. She waits, and she wonders- when will time be on their side?- and she hopes for the future. And she waits.

And she waits.

I just caaaalled to say Iiii waaaant yooou- to come back hooome!

LOL this damn song.

Okay, well, not sure when inspiration will strike again. I guess it depends on canon, but I might do another long-distance sexy story again, because I'm hard and I do what I want. ;)

Review if you feel like it, but if not, that's okay, I'll see you next time!

Keep calm and ship Brittana!