She knows something is up. You sure of it. There's just. There's no way she doesn't. You've been jittery and secretive, and, you've had a hard time even talking to her. Because. Because you're afraid you're going to slip. You're afraid, really, that you're going to say something before— before it's time. Santana, she looks at you, full of concern, sometimes. Santana, you're worried she thinks something bad is happening. And, you hate that. Because you and Santana, you don't have secrets. You and Santana, you tell each other everything. But. This is different. This is really, really different. This, this big thing. It's something you need to keep to yourself. It's something you just can't tell her. Because, telling her, it'll ruin everything. So you keep it inside, and, she lets you. Santana, your Santana, she gives you space, she lets you breathe, and— Really, she's just something so wonderful.
It's October. The summer, it's long faded, and there's a chill in the air, especially at night. You've waited for this night, you've waited and planned, for nearly a month. Astronomy, you love it. Not in a scientific sort of way, but, when you were young, and you spent a lot of time alone with your paints, and you'd developed an interest in the sky. You'd started looking up maps of stars, but, the moon. The moon is what's always fascinated you the most. It's varying beauty, the colors that swirl around it. The fact that it's always there, even when you can't see it. That constancy, it resonates with you. And the Hunter's Moon, that blood red October full, it's always been your favorite. You have paintings of it, plenty of them, but last year's moon, it rained for, so tonight's, it'll be your first that you see with Santana, and— You're just. Vibrating.
As usual, you get out of bed with Santana when she gets up for work. You make coffee. You kiss her goodbye. You paint for a while. You go running. It's a typical morning, really. Except. It doesn't feel like it. Not for you. You're so incredibly excited. You're excited to share something like this with Santana. With your New York City girl who rarely saw the stars. You're excited for this. And for something more. So you keep yourself busy. You run the errands you need to run, picking up champagne. Picking up the passion fruit cheesecake you'd shared on your first date. You keep yourself busy, and when she comes home and falls asleep on the couch for awhile, you start getting ready. You roast peppers and eggplants. You slice baguettes and cheese. You carefully assemble sandwiches. You pack dishes and glasses and silverware in the picnic basket you bought together one rainy summer day at IKEA, while you'd been shopping for frames. Otis, he looks at you strangely, but, you scratch behind his ears. You promise him you're okay. And you check things off your list. Because that list. It keeps you from feeling entirely crazy.
It's time. It's finally time to go. The sun, it's low in the sky. And, you're leaving the city. You want to be where it's darkest. You have a bag packed with blankets and candles. A lot of candles. Because candlelight, it's the best kind of light, it won't take away from the bright of the moon. And candlelight. It's romantic. Love words, you're not so good with them. But. Romance. Making a nice meal. Lighting candles. Kissing her in a way no one has ever kissed her before. Those things you're good at. The best, she tells you. And, you believe her. You believe everything that Santana tells you. She doesn't lie. She doesn't tell people just what they want to hear. Not even you. It's one of the things you love most about her. She loves you hard. She loves you fierce. But. She doesn't coddle you. And she doesn't patronize you.
She draws love words on your palm as she drives over an hour away from the city light. This place, this place you haven't been, not in a long time. But, she'd asked you where you wanted to go to see the moon and the stars, and, it's the first place that came to your head. She's excited, you hope. She's excited, you think. Because she does, she does get excited about things that matter to you. And. She knows that this moon, this first moon of autumn, the one that's rising in the sky before your eyes, it's your favorite moon of the year. And it's better. It's so much better than it's ever been. It's so much better, because it's not just you and Otis, staring up at it together from the Franklin Institute Observatory. It's so much better, because you're sharing it with Santana. And there's nothing in the world that doesn't get better when you do. You love her, you love her. Your girl. Your everything. You love her, and, this night. This night is all you never knew you were waiting for.
Is this the spot, Britt? She turns to face you, when she stops the car. And she smiles. Her smile. Those crinkly eyes. Those dimples. Fire, fire, fire. You swear, it truly does ignite you. She knows you've been staring at her the whole ride, but, she doesn't mind. She loves it, actually. And she always tells you, she'd known she was beautiful for a long time, but, she'd never felt it quite as much as when she reads it in your eyes.
"I think so, yeah." You nod. You can see the lake through the trees, and, it's a chilly night. It's chilly, and there seems to be no one really out. No one but the park rangers. It seems even more perfect that way. It seems more perfect, just you, her, and Otis. The way it mostly is. "Is this okay?"
It looks perfect to me.
Buttoning coats and wrapping yourselves in scarves, you get out of the car. Otis stays close to your side. He feels your nerves, you're sure. They're coming off you in waves. But the moon, above you. That constant presence. It helps to calm you down a little. And her face. Her face bathed in crimson moonlight, it calms you even more. Because she. Santana. She's more constant, you think, even than the moon. Santana. She may not have come into your life until a year and a half ago. But. But, you know, you're certain, you're whatever is more than certain. That she's your forever. That she's never been anything but. From the very first moment you laid eyes on her.
Together, you spread a blanket out on the lakeshore. You feel her eyes on you as you light all of your candles. And when you turn back to face her, they're flickering, flickering in her fire eyes. Illuminating even more the beauty of her face. Crossing your legs beneath you, you open the basket. You take out the dishes and glasses. You unwrap sandwiches, you open containers of olives and strawberries. You pop the cork on the champagne. And she watches you. She watches you. She never stops. You eat, under the moon. You eat, with the waves lapping the shore in front of you. You eat, and neither of you say much. There's not much, really, that you need to say. You're just. You're enjoying each other's company. You brush fingers occasionally. You kiss balsamic vinegar off her bottom lip. You smile, when she tucks a fallen piece of your hair back behind your ear and refills your champagne glass. You look at the moon. You look at the rising stars. You look at her, and. Everything's bright, so bright, in the dark sky. Everything's so beautiful, all moon and candles. All her.
Before dessert, you lie down. You lie down, so you can look up at the sky. You wrap another blanket around both of you, cocooning your bodies inside. Her head, it finds its place on your chest. It always does. That space, just below your chin, you're sure it was made for her. There's no other explanation for how perfectly she fits there. It's cold, the air nips at your nose and your ears, but, it doesn't feel unbearable. Not with her. With her, you could lie like this. Forever. Forever, forever. With the dark universe all around you, with wishing stars raining down. Your gloved hand, it wraps around something hard in your coat pocket. It wraps around the small box that's safely tucked there. And you wait, you wait for the perfect moment. For the perfect moment, on this perfect night, with this more than perfect girl. You love her, you love her, and. The best part is. She loves you too. Just as much. So, so much.
"Dessert?" You ask her. It's been over an hour, just lying. Just lying with her. Otis, he's resting close by, but he's left you two alone. He knows, you think. You've told him. But. You think he understands. You think he understands. He understands things. He understands you, more than most people give him credit for.
You packed dessert, too? What else did you fit in that basket?
"Just that. Why? Are you cold, or, do you need something else. Or—"
Hey. She takes your hands. She takes both of them in hers. She always does that. When you're nervous, especially. And it's. It's. It's something. This total connection with her, somehow, you think. I'm good. I'm perfect, really.
"Good." A smile spreads, slowly, slowly across your face, and. You lean in. You kiss her. You kiss her. You kiss her, and you taste champagne. You taste champagne, and you taste Santana. She brings her hand to your cheek, she brings you further into the kiss. And. When you finally separate, you're breathless. You're breathless, as her fire eyes flicker. You're breathless. She always steals your breath. And you wouldn't have it any other way. "So do you want some of this?"
Always. What did you make?
"I didn't, actually. I bought passionfruit cheesecake."
Passion fruit cheesecake? Her eyebrows rise up. You see the recognition in her eyes. You see how the corners of her mouth turn up. And your own. They do the same in response.
"You remember?"
Brittany, I think I remember everything about you. And that night. You wore that dress, my favorite one. You ordered chicken aubergine without the prosciutto, because you like it, but not with eggplant. You held my hand on the table, and, no one had ever done that with me before. It was the best date of my life. Until our second date, and then every date after that.
"Santana." You say her name. You say it over and over again, and you shake your head. Because. She and her love words. They just. They make your heart flip and flutter. They make your stomach drop. They make you light up. Like the fire in her eyes,
"Sweetheart." She smiles, because she does it on purpose. She says that on purpose. All the time. Just like how you say her name. You kiss her again. You tangle your hands in her midnight hair. You just. You never want to stop. And it's her, who's breathless, this time. You stole it back.
You share the cheesecake again. Just like you did on that far past June night. One fork between you, she parts her lips, and she lets you feed her. She kisses you, between bites. And you swear. Things like this. How open and herself she is. No inhibitions. It makes you love her more. It makes you love her impossibly more. And beneath that bright red moon, with candles in the sand. With champagne and passion fruit on your lips. You're ready, you're ready. You're ready, for something you never, not in your wildest dreams, imagined would be happening. Not for you. Not for the girl who lived in her turtle shell. Not for the girl with her dog and her funny speech and her headphones. Not for the girl who had been taught to believe she wasn't good enough, especially not for someone as incredible as Santana Lopez. But. Santana. She is the one who believes you are. She's the one who's waited, patiently, as you slowly shed your shell. She's the one who still waits, sometimes, when you need a moment back inside. She's the one. This woman, who loves you, unconditionally. Who you know, without a single doubt in your mind, will love you, for the rest of your life.
"Santana." You say her name again. You love saying it. You love seeing the way her face twitches in response. You love that still, after sixteen months together, these three syllables have the same effect on her. She looks at you, and you just— "Hi."
Hey. What's up, buttercup?
"You're the cutest." You just. You really just can't with her. Everything. "I. Santana. I. I'm just. I'm not good with the love words. You know that. It takes me a lot of time to make sense of my thoughts. Because, my mind gets jumbled up, and sometimes I forget what I was trying to get out. But. I have things that I need to say."
It's okay, Britt. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.
"I know. I know that. And I. I appreciate it. So much more than there are even words to say. The fact that you love me like you do— I still wake up in the morning and get surprised that this is real. But. I feel your breathing and your heartbeat and your skin on mine, and. It's real. It's so real. I just. I didn't think. I didn't even hope for something like this. For someone like you. I thought, it would be me and Otis, and then—" You swallow hard, because, you don't think about that. You can't. Ever. And she takes your hand again. She squeezes it. She tells you, without words, that it's okay. "I thought that I was too broken for anyone to love me. And then, you just appeared in my life. Right away, you filled this space that I didn't even know was empty. You changed me. I. You. You saw me. You really saw me, even when I was hiding. You loved me. You love me still. I don't feel afraid anymore that I'll look in your eyes and see that you don't. Because you. You've just. You've made me believe that sometimes people stay. You've made me believe that I'm special and worthy. And. You've just. Santana. I—"
It's okay, it's okay. You don't have to rush the words out. She soothes. Her thumb, it draws love hearts on the inside of your wrist. She doesn't try to tell you that you don't have to speak. Because, she knows. She knows you don't talk this much very often, and, if you're trying now, she knows it's important for you.
"Thank you." You feel the tears spring to your eyes, because you see it. You see that she's teary-eyed, too. Santana. With her love words. You're saying them to her, too. You're saying them. Because. Even though she knows. You want to say them anyway. "You don't treat me like I'm different. You don't see me as— As a burden. Or. Like I'm strange. Because I talk funny and I think slow and my best friend is a dog. My best friend besides you. You came, and— And. You became my love and my family and my best friend in the whole world. And Otis, he understands that. He understands that he's my best friend, too. But. But maybe. Maybe I needed a person too. I needed a person who laughs with me and talks to me. Who kisses my forehead and my fingertips. And. Who. Who just. Loves me. Loves me for me. Who I love, with my whole entire heart. You. Santana. You've shown me what it's like to love, and to be loved. And this, this thing we have. It's the most special and wonderful and important thing that ever, ever happened to me. I. I just. I want to keep it forever."
I want that too. She wipes her tears. But more. They fall. And you. You're just. You're weeping openly. You're weeping, because, no one, no one, will ever make you as happy as this amazing woman. Your special thing. The love of your life. And. You put your hand in your pocket again. You find that box. And you take a deep breath, before you slowly- Before you slowly take it out. Her face. Her face, and her eyes. Her eyes sparkle and flicker. Fire and deep red moonlight. It's beautiful and haunting. Just like her. Brittany.
"I'm not— I've never done this before. So. I don't. I'm not. I'm not sure I'm doing it right."
It's okay. It's okay. Me neither. I mean—Her nodding. It's vigorous. Like she can't stop. Like. She wants you to do it. To ask her. And you'd known her answer. You'd known it, when you were in the jewelry store. You'd known it, when the two of you had visited her mom a few weeks ago, and you'd talked to her, hurriedly, while Santana went to the bodega for milk. You'd known it then. But. But now. Now that you see her face. Eyes. Flitting between your face and the box in your hand. You think, you've never been more certain of an outcome in your life.
"Marry me. Be my forever and ever. Let me love you, for the rest of my life. And after. For all the time that exists, and will ever exist. Let me love you, and love me back. Marry me, and, we'll love each other, forever."You rush the words out, through all the tears and the heart fluttering. You rush them out, and you keep your eyes on her. You keep your eyes on her eyes, looking at you, like, like you're everything and more. And she nods. She nods, and then, then, because she's just, too much, even, for your heart to take, she signs the word. She holds her right hand over her left, and then, then she clasps them together. She knows the word for marry, and you, you can't breathe. You can't breathe at all. "Will you?"
Yes. Yes, Brittany. Of course. Of course I'll marry you. I'll be in love with you forever. I'll be your wife.
"And I. I'll be yours."
You'll be mine.
Santana, she's still nodding. She hasn't stopped, and neither of you have stopped crying. You want to kiss her, it's all you want, in the whole universe. But. But you have a ring, and, your hands, they're trembling so much. They're trembling as you open the little black box. They're trembling, as you take the ring out. It's just, a simple solitaire, an antique band, though you'd give her the biggest ring to ever exist, it you thought she wanted that. But Santana. She's not flashy. She likes pretty things, but, they don't have to be big or expensive. She'd rather, she'd rather her things mean something. And this. This emerald cut stone, it reminds you of her, and now, now, forever, it'll remind her of you too. It's more than a thing. It's a promise and a symbol. A symbol of how much you love her, and how much she loves you too. Enough to say yes. Enough to be each other's. Forever.
Her hands. They're shaking, too. You take her left hand in both of yours, and you try. You try to steady the two of you. You're not very successful, though. But. But it's okay. You manage to slide the ring onto her finger. You manage not to drop it on the blanket or lose it in the sand. You manage that, and then, then you just, you need to kiss her. You need to kiss her so much. You need to kiss Santana. You need to kiss your fiancée. You need to kiss your forever girl. You need, you need— Before you can finish your thoughts, her hands, they're on your cheeks. Her lips, they're on your mouth. Her nose, it's brushing yours. Her teeth, they tug at your bottom lip. Her breath, her joy-ragged breath, it tickles you everywhere. You close your eyes, and she overwhelms you. You close your eyes, and, there's nothing else. Nothing else but Santana. Santana, Santana, Santana. Your Santana. Your truest love. Your greatest friend.
Hi. She pulls back finally. But her hands, they still hold your cheeks. Her eyes, they search your face. They search deep within you. Hi Britt.
"Hi, Santana." A laugh, it starts at the pit of your stomach, and then, then it rises, up, up, until you just. You can't stop giggling. All the pent-up nerves and energy, finding its way out through your lips. You giggle and giggle, and she does too. You giggle and giggle, until your sides hurt, until you feel like you might float away. "We're going to get married."
We are. Otis! She's still laughing, and Otis, he picks up his head, and he looks at her. Did you know about this? Did you know Britt was going to ask me?
"He did. Who do you think helped me pick out the ring?"
I should have known. She holds out her hand. She admires it. You don't think. You don't think she really saw it before. But now, now it shines in the flickering candlelight, it shines in the moonlight, and it reflects in her eyes. It's beautiful.
"And you look. You look, extra beautiful wearing it."
You talk about me and my love words.
"I just. I love you. I love you so, so much."
"I love you so much too. Forever and ever."