You're performing with The Queen for New Year's Rocking Eve. In the middle of Times Square. On Television. For millions of people to see.

It's a big fucking deal, babe.

Huge.

She asked you when the tour ended, pulled you aside and told you that you impressed her and she likes your style, your spirit. She's only going to have four dancers with her up there and she wants you on her team.

Your screeches of delight through the phone as you told me, they made me so happy, so so proud. I wanted to reach through the little device in my hand and kiss you silly.

I kissed you silly as soon as you walked in the door a day later.

It's a big win-win for me, because not only will I get to watch you kill it on stage with her, but we'll also get to see the ball drop in the middle of it all, something you've been asking me to do with you since we met. You pouted and begged and pleaded, but nothing ever worked. There was no way in hell I was going to stand in the middle of frigid temperatures for hours and hours on end to see something we could see better on tv.

Also, it's so much easier to kiss you drunk on champagne at home, where we have a couch and a bed, so we can do more than just kiss.

Now, this year, after you perform, we'll get to go back inside one of those warm buildings, filled with other people and artists and bathrooms and watch all the fun and magic from inside. And we'll be able to kiss and wait out the madness inside as everyone else drains out of Times Square.

It's such a win-win, baby.

Because watching you dance… watching you dance is my favorite thing ever.

You are my favorite thing ever.

And when you dance it's like this power radiates off you. You're different. You're an otherworldly being. You're a star. No one can touch you. And I can't take my eyes off of you.

The way you move your body does things to me.

It heats me from the inside out. I feel warmth radiating everywhere. I feel vibrations everywhere.

And not just in the wanky way. Because fuck it's so wanky.

But in the awestruck way. In the I feel alive way. In the disbelief that you, perfect you, love me. The you that can do that. The you that is that powerful force, that talent, that everything. That loves me.

And I know. I know you always say that you feel the same way when you watch me perform.

But I don't know.

I don't know if you know what you do to me.

I try to show you. To make you feel it.

With my kisses and my touches.

But there's no way you can feel what's going on inside of my being, my soul, when I see you.

So, really, I'm the winner. All the time.

Your rehearsals have been easier than ever, and you come home with a smile on your face every day, happiness just radiating off of you. And I love it, because the first thing you do is bound over to me wherever I am and kiss me with so much gusto it steals my breath away.

And then you pull me into the bedroom and put some of that energy and happiness to good use.

It's been a wonderful week. I'll need to send The Queen a thank you note, maybe a bouquet of flowers, champagne.

You leave in a flurry of activity on New Year's Eve. You have to get to the studio early to rehearse and then get over to Times Square before even more madness begins. I pull you into me before you go, grabbing the lapels of your coat, bringing you to my lips, kissing you good and hard.

I swallow your moan and nip your lip and pull away. Your eyes are hooded and cloudy, your mouth agape.

"Knock 'em dead tonight, babe." A kiss on the cheek and a slap on your ass and I push you out the door, revved up and ready for more.

It's only fair that I get to tease you a little bit, you've gotten too comfortable teasing me.

You're not out the door two minutes before my phone chirps with your text tone 'not gonna be able to remember my choreography today because all I'm going to be thinking about is you, and that kiss, and picking up where we left off later tonight. Hell of a goodbye, you tease.'

My face feels like it's going to split open from my smile and I simply respond with a wink emoji and leave it at that. Best not feed the beast when it's hungry. I'll save that for later.

I meet a bunch of your company friends later at a bar to pregame before the big event. We have to get downtown kind of early so we can get into the right area to meet up with you after the performance. The Queen is doing two songs and then she'll be sticking around to be interviewed on the show, but you'll be able to scurry away and find me.

You made sure we'd be able to get our kiss in.

We all get our buzz on before we head over to the studio to meet up with you. I'm still not used to being "famous" or whatever, but it does have its perks and I'm able to get in and get where I need to be easy and without too much hassle.

Unfortunately I hadn't counted on the producers pulling me aside and throwing me on camera for a quick interview and sound bite. This was supposed to be your big night, baby. I don't want to overshadow you.

Once you take the stage though, once you strut up there and get into place, I don't see anything or think about anything but you. I know there are some people watching me, watch you, but I don't care. I can feel the big shit-eating grin on my face as I watch you.

Your costume all leather.

Your hair all tousled and bed-heady.

Your makeup all dark and smoky.

You look amazing. So so hot.

Fierce.

Fierce as hell.

The way you move your body, flip your hair, pose, it's got me all riled up in the best way possible.

And I'm so so excited that everyone is getting to see this. Because you deserve all the attention.

And I don't even look at the three other dancers up there with you.

And I don't even look at The Queen.

All I can see is you, you, you.

My amazing, incredible, super talented, you.

Part of me wishes I was up there performing with you. But, it's only a small part because, this… this watching you shine is so much better than anything.

You catch my eye towards the end of the performance and I don't know how you do it, but you do and you hold it for a beat. And in that beat I feel my heart swoop and swoon for you. And before I know it the set is done and you're being ushered off stage as soon as the producers clear you and I just need to kiss you.

It's not long before you find me. A slinky silver dress on, your hair and makeup still done up from earlier.

You look like sex on legs.

You are sex on legs.

And I love love love that you're in my bed every night.

There's a glint in your eyes when you step up to me and I pull you in for a kiss before I can say anything. It's short, but full of feeling, and it leaves me spinning.

You smell like you always do after dancing, and it's my favorite you smell.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"Baby… you were… that was… fuck, that was sexy."

You laugh and squeeze my hips. "Thought you might say that."

"Jesus, Britt. A little warning would have been good."

"Not after this morning, baby."

"Oh, please. You loved it."

You nod and smirk, "It's true. I did."

I kiss you again, short, a peck.

"You always say you want warning. At this point I'd think you'd be used to the sexy factor."

"I'll never get used to the sexy factor, B. You are the sexiest woman I've ever met."

"Such a sweet talker, Santana."

"Truth. Good thing I know it works."

You laugh and slide your arm around my waist, kissing my cheek before you guide me to the back where we can hang out and drink. Your phone beeps with messages from your family and friends and you soak it all in and answer them, but never take your hand off my back.

It makes me swoon.

You make me swoon.

The closer it gets to midnight the more excited you get. You're bouncing around and your eyes are sparkling and you're just too cute. We find a spot by the window where we can watch the ball drop and the excitement in the air is palpable.

I will admit, this is one of the coolest things I have ever done. But I am very glad we are indoors, it is freezing outside.

The aura around you as the countdown begins is glowing and you are buzzing. I can feel you buzzing. The way you look at me makes me feel like the center of the universe and you reach over and peck my lips before we've even hit twenty.

"Just wanted to kiss you one more time before the year was over."

And I swoon again.

"You're so silly, Britt-Britt."

"The silliest."

The crowd starts shouting at 10, and you grab my waist, and we watch as the giant glittery ball gets closer and closer, and before I know it everyone around us is screaming "Happy New Year"

But I don't even get the chance to say it, because your lips are on mine.

And you kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

A/N: Happy New Year everybody! We are that much closer to Brittanuary, bitches! Thank you again for all the love and support for this story, it has definitely been a wonderful surprise for me this year!