The weather, it turns cold fast. Your brisk fall becomes nearly winter-like as November starts, and with your longer workdays getting ready for all of your holiday festivities, you miss the opportunity to cuddle Brittany closer for just a few moments longer in the early morning hours. But as per usual, she's amazing. She finds a bigger thermos and packs you more coffee— and you tell Philadelphia on the air just how jealous they should be that you get to start every morning with your wife's coffee, while Jonas quips that you won't even share it with him. She brings you lunch when you work into the afternoon, making list after list of the things each of your families need. You savor your nights together, like you've done each year since you've met her, and still, you keep up with your house hunt, your hope of being in before Christmas not waning, even as it draws closer.
It's the second Saturday of November, and you're in Target. Both you and Brittany are pushing carts, hers filled with clothes, socks, and underwear in various sizes, yours filled with toys. You're making real progress on the shopping, and since Brittany is the most organized person ever to exist, she's quick to wrap, label, and box almost immediately upon returning from the store. This family that you're shopping for, you've known them since their five-year-old was a baby, and Brittany knows they have a special place in your heart, so she sticks by you as you mosey through the store, making sure everything you get is perfect. You're in line when your phone rings. You consider letting it go to voicemail, but when you look at the screen and see a number you don't recognize, you answer it, hoping maybe it's another realtor for you, hoping maybe you can see another house, since it's the first Saturday in the month that you don't have something set up.
You're ecstatic, really, when it's the broker for the townhouse on Walnut that you and Brittany have had your eye on. It had been just out of your price range, and you wouldn't even go for a viewing, for fear you'd fall in love with it. But two days ago, still unsold, the price had dropped, and you're pretty sure you've never sent an email so fast in your life. Brittany keeps her eyes on you, while you sign what's happening on the other end of the call to her, and she nods emphatically, those universe eyes, glowing, almost, when you tell her you can see it this afternoon. You've been trying, really, with each place you've seen, not to get your hopes up. But this one, not far from where you live now, you just have this good feeling. It's almost like it's the place you've been picturing the two of you living, the two of you, and Otis, and this other little person that might come into your lives somewhere in the future. Your butterflies, they go a little wild at the thought, and you grip the side of the cart once you hang up the phone. You grip the cart, and then, just because you're not sure what else to do, you kiss Brittany, right at checkout lane seven in Target.
"I shouldn't be this excited," she tells you, though she does a little hop, startling Otis. "But. I already. I know I love that place. Even from outside. I feel like we stalked it all summer."
"I mean, we kind of did." You laugh. "They were always barbecuing out back, I wanted to invite ourselves over there."
"Oh. I know you did. I wouldn't have been against it. But. I don't know, maybe that's why I'm excited. I. I pictured us there. Even though it wasn't an option."
"Me too!" You shout, and you know she knows that you did, because she starts giggling, and your cheeks burn at how loud you truly were. "Sorry, everyone in Target."
"I love you." She shakes her head. "I love you a lot, and I'm not sure how loud you were, but, it's very cute that you're excited like this."
"It's just, I really want us to find a place, and if it's this one, I think that would be even better."
"Yeah, it would be." She nods, and then she takes a deep breath, because, she strives to be level-headed. "But if it's not, we will. We'll find the place we're supposed to spend our lives in. This dream is coming true, Santana."
"I know." You lean over the cart while she starts putting things on the conveyor belt, and you kiss her again. "I know, and I can't wait."
After you finish checking out, you load the car, and you have plenty of time to get the bags upstairs and park before you have to meet the broker. Bubbling with excitement, you pass time in the park, cozy in your hats and gloves, Otis already wearing his little boots on the cold concrete. You check your watch about four dozen times, and finally, finally, it's two o'clock. Brittany wraps her arm around her waist as you head over there, maybe because she thinks one of you might float away with all of your excitement. Just before you reach the place, Brittany gives you another quick kiss, helping to settle your nerves, helping to get your head back in the game, so you don't walk in and blurt out the way you've been walking by this place every day for months, years, even, maybe, if you're being truthful. There's just something about it, something that intrigued you, long before you met Brittany.
Bianca, the broker, knows about Otis, and she stands outside, waiting for you to arrive. You wring your hands, trying to contain yourself, and you see Brittany, that adoring look on her face, the face that makes you smile sheepishly. She knows you really haven't stopped bubbling inside, but you put up a good façade. You ask questions about how long it's been on the market, while she opens the door, and you sign to Brittany, in case she misses the way Bianca speaks so quickly. You're nearly crying in the foyer, just because you're here, and, barring any major surprises inside, you can feel it, you want this. The owners have moved out, since last summer, and the empty space, it feels like your home. Even Otis, he looks around curiously. And Brittany, she admires the kitchen, the big counters, the breakfast nook, the upgraded appliances. She keeps her eyes on you, and not just for your signs, she keeps her eyes on you, because she knows, she knows. It's what you've been looking for, both of you. The outdoor space, sunny, and big enough for you to cook and eat there, or for her to paint, in the warm months. The big bay window that overlooks the park, one of those things you both sort of know you need. Three bedrooms, and a nook that could absolutely serve as a workspace. An open floor plan, which makes it easier for you to communicate with each other when you aren't in the same room. It's just, everything you'd really imagined it would be, and you want it, you want it so badly, but you know you can't just say that, right then and there.
You linger in the house. Brittany finds your hand, and she laces your fingers together. She leans into you, just a little, and you hear her sharp intake of breath. You're certain, more than certain, that she's doing just what you are. Those pictures you'd had in your head, they were only with the imaginary insides of this house, but now, standing here, looking at the fireplace, the brick hearth, it's so much more clear. You picture this empty room, filled with one of the sets of furniture you've been looking at online, dreaming together. You picture lying with Brittany on the couch, Otis on the floor beside you. You picture Christmases and rainy afternoons, you picture your life, here, and you tell Bianca you'll be in touch. You and Brittany, you need to talk. And if she loves it as much as you, you need to act fast, and you need to put to use again the skills you'd taught yourself. You could buy without a broker on your end, and draw up an offer as soon as humanly possible.
"Do you love it?" Brittany asks you, once you've said goodbye to Bianca, and she's standing across from you, swinging your hands between your bodies.
"I— Britt, love isn't even the word. What did you think? Because if you—"
"Santana, you're so good." She makes your cheeks burn hot, and then she kisses both of them. "I think it's perfect. I want it. More than the place we got outbid on even. I just. We're pre-approved for our mortgage. We need to go home and get an offer in before anyone else can."
"I can't even think straight." You bounce on your toes a little. You don't even know how to contain the excitement. Your hopes, they're so high, and unlike the last place you'd wanted to buy, you're not having an hours-long conversation before you know that you want it. You're just, you're ready for this, and so is she. Brittany, your careful planner, she's making a snap decision, and you know, you know she feels strongly about it. "But let's do it, let's get it all written and faxed. Let's not let someone beat us to it."
In the apartment, you talk logistics. You decide to make a full price offer, because you're afraid someone else will snap it up. You both know that maybe you're being overly cautious, since it's been on the market for so long, but, it's really your dream home. It's really the place where you believe you'll end up raising your family, and you won't take the risk. Though you're careful with money, you refuse to quibble over a few thousand dollars, not on this place. Not after months of hunting. Brittany, she reads over the offer you type up probably ten times, but you can hardly even focus on doing it once. As soon as she gives her final approval, you leave a message for Bianca, and you send it. You send it, and Brittany catches you up in her arms in front of the fax machine. She's laughing, so uninhibitedly, and she twirls you around, making you laugh just as much. You dance and spin, totally forgetting you're not supposed to get your hopes up, and you end up naked and in bed, just, having the best sort of giggly, excited sex. Just, burning more thoughts of your coming future into each other's skin.
Though Sunday is your favorite day of the week, this one drags. You walk past the house on your way to brunch— and you, maybe, maybe mumble a hi, house as you do, dorky as it is— and then you walk by again on the way home, a little tipsy on mimosas, with Brittany holding you by the waist. You check your e-mail every thirty seconds, and you stare at the phone. It's Sunday, you're sure you won't get a reply, but, that doesn't stop you from hoping anyway. After a nap on top of Brittany, where she does the thing with your hair that makes you purr a little, you wrap more gifts together, and you plan your next shopping excursion. But both of you, you're distracted, both of you, you're trying to keep yourselves from thinking about the only thing you actually can. Both of you, you're watching the hours tick by, since you'd specified a three day window for response time in your offer.
It rains on Monday morning. You're pretty exhausted, since you and Brittany stayed up late, lying on your stomachs on the bed, looking at furniture online. You put your phone away while you do your show, because you know it's entirely too much of a distraction. You may not even hear from them until tomorrow, but you're just so incredibly anxious. On air, you give Jonas advice about the new girl he's dating, you encourage more callers to donate to your needy families fund, and you throw passing glances at your purse across the room. You know it's still the crack of dawn, but you don't think you've ever felt so impatient in your life. Because with the exception of Brittany, you've never wanted anything so badly. When you're finally finished, you just about throw yourself across the room, but there are no new messages, and you scream internally.
When you walk through the door, soaking wet from the rain, you're secretly glad to see that Brittany has been just as anxious as you've been. Her easel is blank, and she sits on the window bench, her knees pulled up to her chest, absently petting Otis. You flick the lights to let her know that you're home, and she gets up, kissing you on the lips while you hang up your wet coat. She insists on making you tea, worried about how cold and wet you are, and you relent, glad you'll be able to snuggle with her, once you change into your dry clothes. You go into the bedroom, and you grab one of her sweatshirts and a pair of flannel pants to change into. You're just pulling your shirt off over your head, when the phone rings on the bed beside you. In your struggle to get to it, you nearly fall over, and when you see Bianca's name on the caller ID, you grab it and run out into the kitchen, clad in only your bra and underwear.
"Santana Lopez's phone." You answer, then shake your head at yourself, because you really don't know where that even came from, and it sounds utterly ridiculous. Brittany covers her mouth, stifling her laugh, as she wiggles in her spot, waiting.
"Hi, Santana. It's Bianca Stephens, how are you?"
"I'm good, really good." Goosebumps run down your spine, and you're not sure whether it's from cold or anticipation. Brittany runs her hands up and down your arms, trying to warm you up, and you look into her eyes, the whole universe before you. "How are you?"
"Fine, thanks. The Rockwells got back to me just a little while ago, and they're going to accept your offer."
"They are?" You gasp, and you grab Brittany's hands. You're nodding vigorously so she knows, she knows it's real, and you see the tears as they spring to her eyes. "They're accepting it? Really?"
"Yes, really." Bianca laughs a little, and you're sure she's witnessed this before. You're sure you're not the only almost first time home owner who is just about reduced to tears on the phone. "I don't have a prospective closing date for you yet, but since both you and the sellers are interested in moving quickly, we could be looking at early next month."
"Early next month?" You repeat, because Brittany's hands have yours in a death grip, and you don't think you could remember the signs for what you need to say, even if you had use of them. Her face, it's a complete smile, eyes, cheeks, mouth, everything. She mouths back to you before Christmas, making your stomach flip flop and your heart race.
"That's what we're hoping for. I'm going to send the documents through your lawyer's office, and you'll need to deal with them and with the bank, but it looks like you and your wife are about to be homeowners."
"Thank you! Thank you!" Your excitement is uncontrollable. The tears that stream out of your eyes are uncontrollable. This, it's everything you've been waiting for your entire life, and though it's not official yet, you have an accepted offer. You're almost there, and you feel like if Brittany lets go of you, your knees will buckle. She's your rock, your wife, and she's keeping you at least a little bit grounded, while you feel seriously lightheaded over everything.
Bianca promises to send you an email with everything you need to do. You're sure you sound just a little bit crazy, but you can't even bring yourself to worry about it. Brittany, her eyes are boring into you, and in those universe eyes, your entire future is flashing before you. When you finally hang up the phone, you toss it onto the couch, and you squeal as Brittany wraps her arms around your bare stomach, and she spins you around and around. You'd forgotten you were nearly naked, but it doesn't matter, it doesn't even matter in the slightest.
"We're getting a house!" She cries out, her excitement ringing through the room, while all you can do is laugh. You laugh and laugh in her arms. You laugh and laugh, because all of this, the sheer joy of your life with Brittany, the accepted offer on the house of your dreams, it all just seems so surreal.
When she finally sets you back on your feet, you're even dizzier and more light-headed than you were before. But it's the best kind of dizzy. The best kind of light-headed. The best kind of everything. You press your hands to her cheeks, and you kiss her. You kiss her, until, even with your eyes closed, you see the stars from her universe eyes. She lifts you up again, and you wrap your legs around her waist. You haven't even said a single word to her, since you've hung up the phone, but somehow, it doesn't seem to matter. Somehow, all of this spinning and kissing and laughing, it just seems infinitely more important.
"We're getting a house!" You kiss it into her mouth, and she doesn't have to see your lips to know what it is you're saying.
"It's real. It's real, Santana." She pulls away, finally. She's entirely breathless, her skin is flushed, there are still tears in her eyes, and she plays with the ends of your hair. "Your dream. The dream that became mine too. It's happening. We searched and searched. And. And they took our offer on the perfect house."
"They did! They really did, Sweetheart. I don't even know what to do with myself." A sob rips from your chest, and you feel your whole body shake. Twenty-four years, and, it's coming true. It's coming true with her, and everything, even the best things in the world, Brittany, your Brittany makes them even better.
"Champagne." Brittany blurts out, because you think, you think, she doesn't know what to do with herself either. "I know it's eleven-thirty on a Monday. And it's not— It's not official, official. But. But we need champagne."
"We do. Champagne. I just— Don't let go of me, because I really don't think I can stand right now."
"Here." She backs you up to the couch, and you drop down, tossing your head back and laughing again. Because she's Brittany, and she takes such good care of you, she wraps you up in a throw, and she kisses your forehead, your eyes, your cheeks, your lips, her excited trembling against you making you shiver. "Stay right here. I'll be right back. And. And then we're celebrating. Weekday morning or not. We're celebrating dreams coming true."