Santana wants to take you on a trip. You're surprised, when she brings it up. You're surprised, because you think, you think a vacation, it's. It's something kind of out of both of your comfort zones. For you, it's being surrounded by people. It's a change of routine. For her. For her, it's about spending a lot of money on something like that. Something that's probably not really necessary. She's not cheap. She's not cheap by any means, but. But she's a saver. She always wants to know that she's got enough money put away, in case, in case. She likes nice dinners and nice wine, but, she always makes sure she saves as much as she spends. You see her sometimes, crunching numbers in her head, and you understand it, you do. You understand it, and you love. You love how she's messy sometimes, how she leaves her clothes around and dishes in the sink, but, her head, it's really organized and prepared, for anything. So when she tells you she wants to go away. When she tells you, that you're coming up on a year since you've met, and she wants to take a week off and spend it, out of town, with you, you're shocked, and, you're really— You're really a little hesitant.

You ask her if you can think about it. She tells you of course, of course. Not celebrating your anniversary, of course you want to celebrate that, but, the going away part. But then. Then you realize. You realize, she's never taken a vacation before. She's never been on an airplane, or, been anywhere outside of this little three state area that she's from. It wasn't an option for her, ever. And, while your mom, she complained that she couldn't take vacations anymore, because it was just too difficult with you, you think, you think, Maribel, she would have given anything to have the same means your mother did. The means that weren't good enough for her, because you, her first born, you were damaged and unpresentable, and one single time, you couldn't understand something, and you mortified her. But. You're working on it. You're working on not feeling angry with her. Because, Santana, sometimes she comes off brash and angry to strangers, but, she's the most forgiving person you've ever met. She sees so much good, and, your mom, well, you don't have to accept her behavior, you don't have to see her, even, but you can't keep letting yourself think about the past. You're working on it. You are. And. Santana, suggesting a trip. Just the two of you. Maybe, maybe, if it goes well, it'll be more than just a romantic week. It'll help you with things. And it'll make her so incredibly happy.

So this is a big thing. A huge deal, Santana wanting to go away with you, to go away at all, and, you just. You know you won't say no. This big special thing, it's to celebrate your first year together. The happiest year of your life. You know you've gotten better at adjusting to things. And, a big part of you, it wants to go. That big part, it wants to have all the experiences, it wants to get on a plane and take time with no work, no late spring rain, no daily bathing of Otis, because he's covered in mud. And that big part, that big part just wants to feel normal. Normal, not just tucked away at home with Santana, but, out there. Out in the world. Out celebrating an anniversary that you never, not in a million years, thought you would have.

You tell her yes. You tell her you want to go away with her, and her face, her face is everything. It's crinkly eyes and dimples, of course, but it's also, just. It's. The wonder in her features. It's childlike excitement, almost. Airplanes and far away beaches. And maybe, maybe, if you want, Britt, we could maybe go to Disney World for a day or something. She's adorable. She's absolutely, just, everything. She nearly vibrates with excitement as you sit together at the computer, planning, planning. As she waves off your credit card, because she wants to be able to do this— and you think, maybe, maybe, it's one of those things she needs sometimes, to know that she can, those things you never want to take away from her. She's beside herself, really. And you, you begin to find it rubbing off on you. You begin to suggest things, and your excitement, it makes her feel even more.

Together, you plan it all. You book a bed and breakfast for four nights in some little beach town on the coast of central Florida. Then you book three nights at a hotel in Disney Word before that, at your suggestion because, when she says Disney, Britt, Disney World, I never thought I'd ever get to go there, all you want, is for her to get the things she never thought she book plane tickets. She calls them on the phone to do it, because she knows. She knows you're nervous about flying with Otis, even though you know they have to let you. She does research, and she tells them you need bulkhead seats, so he'll be more comfortable, and you won't worry. Not about that. You rent a car, and you just, lie in bed at night, making plans, because she really can't stop talking about it. You've never seen her this excited about anything, and. You're still not sure how or why it happens, but. But it makes you just love her more.

And then, then the day is finally here. You're twitchy and nervous, because. Because you need to change the sheets. And put the clean dishes away. And vacuum. But she helps you. You clean the apartment together. You double check the suitcases, warm weather clothes pulled down from the top of the closet, washed and packed. She prints the boarding passes and goes over the folder of travel documents, because she wants to make sure you don't run into any potentially disastrous snags. You make sure you have all of Otis' paperwork, and you snap him into his special vest for the flight. You never put him in that, you don't like to flag him like that, to draw attention to the two of you. But, in this case, you think, maybe, you'll have less eyes on you, if people don't think you're just bringing your big dog on the plane because you want to. You feel like you're ready. Really ready. And, when the cab comes to bring you to the airport, Santana, she just, kisses your cheek, because she knows, she knows. Maybe you just need one last gesture of reassurance.

She holds your hand, all through the airport. She holds your hand, right up until it's your turn to go through security. Then Otis. He steps closer to you. He remains at your side as you go through the metal detector. And you're glad, you're glad, as you're sliding your shoes back on, that there were no problems. That you didn't have to talk to the TSA agents at all. Santana, she finds your hand again. Santana, she grabs the small carry on you'd packed. Just in case clothes for both of you. Your watercolors. The two trip guidebooks you'd taken from the library. Snacks for you and Santana. Food for Otis, because you know it's possible for your flight to be delayed. And. You don't want him to go hungry. Plus his stuffed dragon. It usually lives in Santana's car, but, it's his travel toy, and kind of his favorite. She doesn't tease you for being over prepared. She knows it helps you feel more calm. And leaning your body against her, that makes you feel more calm too.

"Are you excited?" You ask her. Once you've boarded. The pre-board tags on top of your tickets had given you plenty of time to get Otis settled beneath your feet, and now, now you're leaning back. You're taking a breath. You don't even need to ask her, really. She's being cute. She's being really cute, thoroughly reading the emergency evacuation instructions while she absently plays with the alert bracelet on your wrist. The silver chain, that you'd just replaced. That you'd just changed, to make her your emergency contact.

So, so excited. This plane is pretty awesome, right? Do you want a drink? Or one of these snack packs? You're excited too, right?

"I'm good on the drinks and snacks." You smile. You smile so wide. Her excitement. It flickers in her fire eyes. Her leg, it jiggles up and down. And she squeezes your hand. She squeezes it so tightly. "But, I am really excited. It's going to be a really great trip."

You know, I'm also totally good with down time in our room. Just, tell me if I'm trying to do too much, okay?

"I will. I promise you. But. I think I'll be just fine with doing all the stuff. If we were just going to stay home, we could have done that in Philadelphia. We've got a lot on the list."

I know, I know we do. But—

"Hey, it's your first vacation ever, and my first since the Pierce family Williamsburg disaster." You shudder at the thought of that trip. Where you'd freaked out and screamed over the people in the stocks. Because your mom hadn't explained to you that they weren't real criminals. And, you were still recovering some brain function from your accident, so the world was particularly confusing then. You shudder at her embarrassment when you'd screamed, petrified one would get out and try to kill you. You shudder at the way she'd yelled at you after, back in the hotel room, and told your father this was it, you weren't going on trips like this again, even if it meant she couldn't take them herself. You shudder, and Santana draws love hearts with her thumbs on the insides of your wrists. "I want to do all of the things there are to do."

Okay. Good, I'm glad. And, I'm glad we saved the beach part for after, because it'll be a good way to relax and unwind.

"Yeah, it's been a long time since I went to Disney. I don't even remember much of it, really, I was so young. But. I definitely think after, we'll need it."

You're surprised, given her excitement, but, not long into the flight, Santana falls asleep. Right on your shoulder, hands still all twisted up with yours. Otis. He sleeps too, and you're glad for that. You're glad that you don't have to worry about him feeling cramped and confused. But you don't sleep, instead, you watch them. Instead, when you manage to carefully untangle your right hand, you work on sketching the outlines for some things you have to paint when you get home. Your mind, it doesn't work as fast as everyone else's, but it is always busy. And you put it to use, drawing. Doing work things, not the fun things you'd packed your paints for. The drawing, it makes you feel at peace. Even though it's just pencil lines on paper. And. Before you know it, you're landing in Orlando. You're landing, and you're gently peppering Santana's face with kisses. Waking her. Because your trip is beginning. She pretends not to wake up, she does that a lot, and you laugh, because you know it means she's waiting for a kiss on her mouth. A kiss you're very happy to oblige her with.

It's late, really late, by the time you pick up the car and make it to your hotel. But. In the parking lot, you watch the fireworks explode over your heads, and. Santana. She has to pause, just because it's magical, those bright lights over the castle. She clutches your arm, and you're pretty sure, she probably squealed. That's one of those things. The list you have in your head of Santana things you wish you could hear. You settle though, for her face. Her bright fire eyes, dancing. Catching all the colors of the explosions. Her chin. Pressed into your shoulder. Because she does that when she's excited and wants to get close to you. Her lips, curling up. Entirely pleased. Just her everything. Santana watching fireworks, it's so much better than the fireworks themselves, and you smile. You smile a lot, before you finally tug at her hand, because the show is over, and you're sort of completely exhausted.

She only gets more adorable once you check into the hotel. Her eyes are everywhere, and when you get up to your South-Pacific-themed bedroom, she actually climbs up and jumps on the bed. This girl, this beautiful, perfect girl of yours. This voice of Philadelphia mornings. This put-together woman who wears suits to meetings. This person who works so hard to change the lives of impoverished people. She just turns into a gigantic kid. And you melt. You melt to the point where you think you're completely on the floor. And you just watch her. Unadulterated happiness flickering in her fire eyes. When she falls on her butt, she's giggling, she's giggling, and she crooks her finger, calling you over. And when you do. When you do, she wraps you all up. In her arms. In her happiness. In all of it. These things, this joy. When you get to share in new experiences. You think it's the greatest thing in the world.

When she wakes you up, it's barely light. But, this girl of yours. She'd done her research. She'd planned this carefully, both to maximize your time, and to make sure you were most comfortable. You love her, you love her so much. You love her when she confesses to you that when she was little, she'd read the guidebooks in the library and plan imaginary trips, for when her and her mom were the queen and princess of those big Fire Island houses. For when her genie granted the great big wishes of a little girl in too-big clothes. You love her when she shows you everything she printed out about Otis. The maps of where he can use the bathroom. The short list of rides he can't go on, just so you plan your day accordingly. You just love her, because she's her. And, seeing this side of her, different, even, than all her other sides, you're enamored.

You're barely through the gates, when she's tugging you into a gift shop. She's beside herself, trying to pick out ears, and you tell her, she can pick yours, too. You'll wear whichever she wants, and she asks you, she asks you more than once, if you're sure. Of course you're sure, of course, you want to see her face like this for as long as possible. And besides. You have something you need to do while you're in the store too. Leaving her, deliberating over an entire wall of ears in every variety, you manage to go to the counter. You swallow hard, and you look at chipper girl behind the counter. She smiles at you. There's so much smiling here, really. And you ask her. You ask her for the thing you're hoping to acquire, and when she presses it into your hopeful hands. You feel your heart quicken. Because, you're thinking of Santana's face, and, you know this will absolutely make her day. You're thinking of that, and you don't even worry what the girl thinks of your voice, or your strange intonations.

"Hi." You come up behind her. You tap your fingers on her hip bone. She spins around, and looks between you and Otis. Fire eyes, dancing with something.

Hey. So. They have dog ears.

"Like, Goofy and Pluto?"

Well, obviously. She raises her eyebrows. But, I mean. Also, ears for dogs. And, I mean, we totally don't have to. But—

"Otis, buddy." You look down at where he sits patiently, looking up at you. "Looks like Santana wants to put you in ears too, what do you think? Yeah? Whatever Santana wants? I agree with you on that."

Britt. Her cheeks flush. It's not obvious, but. You always notice. You always notice all the reactions her body has to you. And your heart, it thumps.

"C'mon, it's a big deal for you. I actually got you something, while you were planning to dress up my dog."

Not dress up. But, they do have costumes, if you want.

"I think he's good with just ears." You laugh. You laugh, and you brush your thumb over her warm cheeks. "You can totally dress up, if you want."

I think I'm good with just the ears too. But how did you even get me something? It's been like a minute.

"Ten, actually. Plenty of time to work a little magic of my own."

She furrows her brow, and you, you give it a quick kiss, before revealing what you'd managed to procure for her. A button, announcing her first visit to anyone who bothers to look. Her face. It's priceless. You think, you think. Most people, they wouldn't understand why this was such a huge deal. But, you think of little Santana. You think of her big dreams. And you think, you think, of how proud, how excited, that little girl would knowing the woman she'd become. You know that girl, she's bubbling out from inside Santana. You know, she's come back, because, she's waited so many years for this. Santana, she's reserved, you both are, with the PDA, but, she leans over right there, and she kisses you on the lips, anxiously taking the button out of your hands.

Thank you. She beams, pinning it on her ribbed tanktop. Britt, seriously, I know I'm being kind of really dorky about this. But, thank you.

"You're not. I mean, the cuteness level is way through the roof, but, you're not dorky at all. I love when you're excited, and I love being able to make you even more."

You were one-hundred percent successful.

The three of you, donning the ears she picked— hers Mickey, yours Goofy, and Otis, with floppy Pluto— go to the counter so she can pay, and you begin to make your way through the park. You realize, while you're walking, that she doesn't even really need to do anything to be happy. Just being there, it's all she wanted. Just, hugging these characters, who existed in books, and the occasional indoor recess movie for her, is amazing. You're sure, no one would think Santana was like this, and, you're secretly glad this is just for you. You love her special you side, her real side that only you get to see, and, whenever you can, whenever no one is looking, you have to steal quick kisses. Because happiness, her happiness, it's absolutely contagious, and the more you soak it up, the more magic you feel inside of yourself.

You carry on like this, for three days. Otis, he's grown to love it too. You're pretty sure, he actually poses for pictures when the characters— Pluto, in particular— express interest in him. There are hundreds of pictures of the three of you, in different combinations, on different rides, with every character imaginable. Except. Except the one you know she wants to see most. You haven't seen him yet. But, you know she knows where he is, you see it, circled on her map, and on her character meeting spot announcement card, and you think, maybe, she's saved meeting him for last. Just because. Because he's so special to her, and she wants to end the trip like that. It's late, on that last day. You know you've got an hour and a half drive to the beach, but, you find yourself not wanting this to end either. This trip, it hasn't overwhelmed you nearly as much as you thought it would. Santana, she's spoken to you so much in sign, making it easier, you think, because it's hard to focus on lip reading, with all the chaos around you. Which really, has been the greatest thing imaginable, you're sure. And you wonder, if maybe the idea that you can't handle things, it didn't come from you, but— no, you don't want to think about that. Because nothing will put a damper on this. Nothing will make you sad. Not in the happiest place on earth. Not on your amazing girlfriend's dream trip. Her dream trip. It's something you love so immensely about her. It's nothing fancy, it's nothing showy, but, she dons that first time visitor button like it's a diamond brooch. She's having the time of her life, and— you're in Epcot, outside the Morocco pavilion, and you feel her clench both hands on your bicep, because she spots him. This character, who she knows is fake, but who turns her into this shy, stammering person.

It's the first time you shed tears on the trip. It's. You don't have words. Because. It's just— You take the camera from her, and you capture it all there. One moment. One moment that just. You're going to hold in your heart for the rest of your life. And you know she will too. Because she's waited nearly twenty years for this. For Aladdin, the misunderstood street boy full of big wishes. The same kind of big wishes you know she had, too. Her same big wishes that came true. And still, as a grown adult woman, she hugs him tightly, Mickey ears still firmly planted atop her head, and tears stream down her face. You can't hear her words. You can't even read her lips. But. You don't need to. Not to understand what's happening. It's a joy that's unmatched. A joy that makes your heart flip over and over again. A joy that makes you cry. Because seeing her this happy, you think, it might make you even happier.

Much later, you've made it to the beach. She doesn't know about the things you've tucked away when she wasn't looking. Maps. Parade confetti. Pressed pennies. Whatever you could find, for some mixed media art you're thinking about. A surprise for her, later, when the trip is long over. And now. Now you're sun-weary and sex soft. In your new hotel room, with big glass doors, overlooking the ocean, so much bluer, even in starlight, than back in New Jersey, she'd undressed you, she'd cherished your body, leaving no inch untouched, unkissed. You lie on your stomach, her leg flung over your thighs, her chin, resting on your shoulder. She's left you breathless— even more than usual, and, she draws hearts and swirls and dreams on the bare skin on your back. You're quiet, both of you. After days of non-stop motion. Otis, he sleeps in the attached sitting room. And you and Santana, you're full of bliss, here in this little oasis on the water. You're restful, and, you're just breathing each other in. The bedside clock, the numbers flash on it. Just a few minutes before midnight. Just a few minutes before the day that marks a year since you'd run into her. Just a few minutes.

Tired? Santana asks you, rolling over on her side so she can look at you. Her face, in nothing but the moonlight streaming through the glass doors. It's more beautiful than anything.

"Hmm. Good tired. Best tired."

You're pretty. Sometimes. She comes out of nowhere, with those compliments. The sweet little, somethings. And, they're your favorite. Lazy, you're pretty's, when her eyes are heavy. Really. Very few things compare.

"You are too. The prettiest." You brush her loose hair out of her eyes, and you look into them. Look through her. Those fire eyes. They're still dancing with excitement, no matter how tired she is. "Was it everything you hoped?"

So much more. I mean, when I used to plan my fake Disney trip, we totally got there by riding a monkey that turned into an elephant, but, you didn't exist in my mind. And, I'll totally take you over the magic monkey.

"Wow, are you sure about that?" You laugh. You laugh so hard, until she's laughing. Crinkly eyes. Dimples. All teeth and happiness.

Totally sure. You even come with an awesome dog. The monkey didn't.

"Well, that's true, and he did look cute in those ears. Almost as cute as you."

Britt.

"You did. And. I'm really so glad you had a good time. Maybe, next time, we can bring your mom too."

Next time? She looks at you. She looks at you like you're the whole universe. That look. It'll be the end of you some day. She doesn't even know, what it is she does to you.

"Yeah, if you wanted to. I mean, or we could bring her somewhere else."

Brittany. You're something else. Santana. She shakes her head, sometimes. Eyes all soft. And you love that, when you manage to steal her words away, because she's certainly good at doing that to you. Did you have a good time though? I know it was a lot, and we packed a week's worth of stuff into three days.

"It was perfect, Santana. It was really, really perfect. I didn't think I would enjoy it as much as I did, but, everything is better with you. And. It felt like a. I don't know. A big step, or something."

Because it's been a long time since you've gone away anywhere. She knows, she always knows what you're thinking. And. When sometimes it takes you time to put the words together, she reminds you that you don't have to.

"Yeah. And, I'm glad it was with you. I'm always glad when big stuff is with you."

So am I, Britt. I think, I've been waiting my whole life to have someone to do the big stuff with. And a year ago—She looks over at the clock, and then she kisses you. She kisses you like New Year's, again. Today, I found you. So thanks for being my someone special.

"Thanks Santana, for being my someone special, too. Thanks for helping me find my way out of my turtle shell, almost all the time. Thanks for learning, and understanding. And. Thanks for loving me, as me."

Of course. She takes her pointer, and she swirls it in a circle. And then she does it again, the same motion. Your heart. It drops down to your stomach. Even though you think it all the time. It's still. Her saying it. In sign. It never fails to get you. Especially now. In bed. Naked. Her fingers, still trailing down your sides, over your bare breasts, over each and every freckle. One year, since the day you met. Always.