Prompt: Kiss me
Bad Days Made Better
A/N: This story is (eventually) going to fit into Dreams Come True (in progress) and occurs after The Only Dream That Matters.
Xoxoxoxoxo
Santana walked into the apartment and dropped her keys by the bowl on the cabinet by the door, kicked her shoes off, and dropped her jacket on the arm of the couch on the way to the bedroom. It had been a bad day. No. It had been a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day and she was Alexander. A quick glance at her phone notified her of a new text from Britt.
From: The Wifey
Hi honey! We're just finishing up, be home by 7. Love you.
Santana looked at the time and growled. It was only 6:30. Fine. She stripped down and went into the bathroom, turning the water on as hot as she could stand it.
Xoxoxoxoxo
Brittany walked into the apartment and immediately knew something was wrong. The feeling caused her to pause in the doorway and look around the apartment. Santana's keys were by the bowl instead of in it; she dropped her keys in the bowl then picked up and dropped Santana's into it. Santana's shoes were kicked off by the door; nope, Santana never left them by the door because Lord Tubbington thought they made great scratching posts. Santana's jacket was slung on the arm of the couch. Brittany sighed and picked up Santana's shoes, putting them into the cabinet then moving to hang up Santana's jacket along with her own.
Santana was going to be grumpy.
Speak of her angel … Santana wandered out from the hallway and into the kitchen.
"Hi, honey," Brittany tried to sound upbeat, "how was your day? What are you thinking for dinner?"
Santana grunted a hello and continued into the kitchen. She opened the freezer and grabbed a pint of Ben & Jerry's out of it then reached toward the drawer for a spoon.
Brittany took the ice cream from her hand and put it back in the freezer.
"You are not having ice cream for dinner," she chastised softly. She knew her wife and knew exactly what she needed to do.
"I'm a grown ass woman, I can do what I want."
Brittany wrapped her arms around Santana's waist.
"Kiss me."
Santana looked at her. "What?"
"When your wife comes home, it's customary for you to kiss her. So … kiss me."
Santana leaned up and gave Brittany a quick peck then tried to move away from her but Brittany just tightened her hold.
"Kiss your wife, not your great-aunt at Christmas."
Santana huffed out her annoyance but Brittany could feel the stress sloughing off Santana's shoulders as she leaned up again. Brittany met her half-way and their lips slid together, fitting perfectly, as always. Brittany swiped her tongue over Santana's bottom lip and, after a mico-second's hesitation, Santana complied. Their tongues met and danced and lightly dueled until Brittany felt Santana completely melt into her embrace. The kiss was sensual without being sexual; meant to comfort and soothe, not excite. When Santana's arms slid around Brittany's waist, she moved one of her hands from Santana's back and gently cupped Santana's cheek, softly stroking her thumb over Santana's cheekbone.
When they finally separated, Santana leaned into Brittany's shoulder.
"Hi." Santana murmured softly.
"Hi. Bad day?"
"Better now."
"Wanna talk about it?"
Santana hesitated a moment before nodding. "Yeah."
"Dinner?"
"Thai and couch cuddles?"
"Of course." Brittany released her hold on Santana who separated from her a little unwillingly.
"I'll get some wine." Santana moved off to grab a bottle of white wine and a couple of wine glasses while Brittany dialed the Thai place around the corner to place their order.
She smiled softly at her wife as Santana moved toward the couch and paused. She turned back toward Brittany with a small, apologetic smile on her lips and her eyes soft.
"Thank you. For … yanno … and my shoes and coat and stuff."
Brittany's smile widened. "Always."