Author's Note: A Santaresa side-story. Set after Watching the World Take On A New Form and the flclet One Sweet Angel Sleeping In My Arms and before Hang A Shining Star Upon the Highest Bough.
Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. As always, if you're not into Santana, you may want to skip this one.
Say You're Forever
Say you're forever
Say that your heart's gonna stay, yeah
'Cause you, you're who I love
And ooh, this is enough for always
Enough For Always, Kate Voegele
She doesn't ask Quinn.
Honestly, she doesn't think she would have even if Quinn wasn't currently elbow-deep in dirty diapers and sore tits from the (admittedly freaking adorable) munchkin munching on her boobs night and day.
And she doesn't ask Rachel for the same reasons—minus the sore tits and plus a hatbox full of new-mom crazy that Santana just isn't in the mood to deal with right now.
She's stressed enough about the whole thing as it is, and, frankly, her besties are both materialistic bitches who'd probably give her the wrong advice anyway. Santana can damn well tap into her own materialistic streak if she wants to fuck this up.
Because Teresa—well, it's not that she doesn't like nice things, because she definitely does, but she doesn't go for flashy when it comes to the bling. Hell, she rarely bothers with jewelry at all. She's got one ring that belonged to her mother that she sometimes wears, but it's just a plain silver band with an etched flower on it, which is exactly no help at all to Santana right now. She needs to buy a ring that Teresa is going to want to wear forever.
Santana has been thinking about it for a while now—since just after they'd moved in together if she's being completely honest—and the urge has only grown stronger since her friends had gone and given her a goddaughter to make her feel extra mushy and maternal every time she gets near the kid. Santana is nowhere near ready to spawn a rugrat of her own, but she's definitely ready for the wife that typically precedes it.
She thinks Teresa might be ready too. They're on the same page about the kids anyway—that is to say, they both think they'll probably want one someday but not for a good long while. Santana isn't masochistic enough to even think about having one until she finishes her surgical residency in another three years, but she thinks she can swing the wife and marriage without screwing them up too much. She's been doing pretty damn good with the committed relationship so far.
But before she can get the wife, she needs the ring, and she's honestly kind of stuck, because everything she likes is big and flashy and expensive, and she just knows she can't buy any of them for Teresa. So that's how she finds herself sitting uncomfortably across from the Cartwright-Deverauxs at a way-too-expensive coffee shop in Forest Hills on a Thursday night while Teresa pulls a shift at the bar.
"You want us to help you pick out an engagement ring?" Sarah asks in utter mystification, as if Santana hadn't just swallowed down every last bit of her pride and said exactly that.
She ignores the confused expression on Michigan's face and the amused laughter from Red. "Look, I need somebody simple with plain-Jane taste to keep me pointed at the boring rings. No offense."
Josie's merriment immediately fades, and she aims a pretty effective glare at Santana. "Full offense taken."
"Oh, c'mon," Santana defends, gesturing to Sarah. "I just mean that your wife doesn't go for flashy jewelry and neither does Resa. They're weirdly alike in that way."
In a couple of ways, actually, like the seemingly bottomless wardrobe of jeans and button downs they both inexplicably own—although those button downs are pretty damn sexy on Resa. They're even sexier unbuttoned and gaping open over naked tits, but those are fun thoughts to be ruminated over later when she isn't sitting across from the most vanilla couple ever. Well—Josie's still smokin' hot, obviously, but Santana just can't wrap her mind around Michigan being any kind of fun in the bedroom.
She waves her hand at Josie. "And you somehow managed to reel in your urge to buy out the diamond district for your woman."
Because Josie could easily have done that. Santana knows for a fact that the woman likes nice things too, and she actually has the money to buy them, even if she tries to be unpretentious about it for some godforsaken reason. And yet the ring that Sarah has been sporting since Josie popped the question two years ago is a simple diamond solitaire—and okay, it does have some attractive engraving on the gold band that keeps it from being completely plain, but no one would ever describe it as flashy.
"I'm just asking you to stop me from buying what I want," which will inevitably be the biggest, shiniest ring in the display case, "and help me pick something Teresa would, you know, actually wear." Because she really wants her girl to (want to) wear the ring she gives her, and it'd be great if Santana could get it right the first time and not have to take it back because Teresa hates it. She thinks Josie and Sarah could help her out, but she's not feeling particularly encouraged by the skeptical expressions on their faces. "Look, if you don't wanna do it for me, do it for her."
Josie and Sarah share a glance in which they seem to communicate something far too humorous for Santana's liking before Josie smirks at her. "Oh, we'd do it for the entertainment factor alone."
"Fuck you both," Santana mutters, crossing her arms under her breasts.
Josie laughs, not looking the least bit chastised. "Hey, you're the one asking for our help."
"Which is just strange, to be honest," Sarah chimes in. "Did Quinn and Rachel turn you down?"
Santana scoffs. "Are you kidding me? They both love bling as much as I do. They wouldn't know what a modest ring looks like if Callie puked it up on them."
"Disgusting analogy aside, she has a point," Josie says, glancing to her wife. "I mean, they did opt to go with the diamond wedding bands too."
Sarah nods in understanding before she flashes Santana a sardonic grin. "Guess you've got yourself a couple of ring guards."
Josie laughs at her wife's lame joke. Santana only rolls her eyes, but she's secretly relieved that they're agreeing to help her. Teresa's unexpected friendship with Sarah has been a thorn in her side that she likes to gripe about, but she's definitely not above using it to her advantage when it benefits her.
So they make plans to go ring shopping on Saturday morning. Apparently, the workaholics do manage to actually take some time for themselves on the weekends, and they're willing to share a few hours of it with Santana. They must actually like her or something—or maybe they just like Teresa.
Santana has the day off from the hospital, but she sneaks away from her girlfriend by claiming that she has some patients in recovery that she needs to check on. It's not technically a lie—it's just that another resident is covering the rounds today. In any case, Teresa doesn't question the plausible excuse and seems happy enough to have some time alone with her charcoals and sketchpad in the morning so she can have some uninterrupted playtime with Santana at night.
But first, Santana has to put in her own version of work today when Josie and Sarah pick her up outside of her building, and she's forced to ignore her natural gravitational pull to Tiffany, Cartier, and Harry Winston, reluctantly trusting Josie's assurances that she won't find what she's looking for there. "Well, we'll find what you're looking for," Josie amends with a grin, "but it probably wouldn't be anything Teresa would like."
So they end up in a shop that's off the beaten path, if you consider Tribeca off the beaten path, though it has some pretty impressive bling all its own, and Santana finds one princess cut diamond that she particularly likes. "It's pretty simple," she argues, admiring the plain gold band with two teeny, tiny (miniscule, really) square side stones.
"It's three carats," Sarah points out flatly.
"That's small," Santana argues.
"For you," Josie agrees laughingly, patting Santana on the shoulder. "But would Teresa wear it?"
Santana huffs, frowning in annoyance. "Maybe she would if I asked her nicely."
She wouldn't. Not even with awesome sex. Santana knows that, which kind of sucks because that ring would look so good sparkling on Teresa's hand.
"Why are we here again?" Sarah questions with a grin of her own.
Santana rolls her eyes. "Just show me what you'd pick."
"Honestly?" Sarah hedges, glancing around the shop with critical eyes. "Nothing here."
And so they're off to another shop even further off the beaten path at Josie's direction—in fucking Queens. "I think this one will have exactly what you want."
Santana doubts that, because all she sees when they first walk in are tiny little diamonds on plain bands that do nothing to appeal to her own taste, but she has to remind herself that this isn't about her. Well, it is, obviously—this is her engagement their talking about after all, and she wants her fiancée-to-be to have a ring that announces to the world that she's engaged to Doctor Santana Lopez—but she knows that she needs to be focused on Teresa's preferences over her own. It's fucking hard.
Maybe Josie isn't so far off the mark with this store though, because there's a small selection of rings that look almost artsy with low profile stones and stylish bands that are a little more visually appealing than the standard solitaires. Sarah had gravitated to that display case the moment they'd entered the store, and Santana probably should have followed her over immediately instead of perusing the crappier rings first.
One ring in particular catches her eye—a perfect, small (but not too small) round diamond tucked into the faint curves of a split platinum band, so she asks the clerk if she can get a closer look at it. She finds that she likes it even better once she's holding it up for inspection. It's appropriately modest at one carat but still interesting enough to be something different, and most importantly, Santana can actually envision it on Teresa's finger.
"I think she'd like that one," Sarah comments from over her shoulder.
"Yeah?" Santana questions softly, her heart beating a little faster at the possibility as she glances back at Sarah with genuine interest.
"It's simple but elegant." She shrugs. "And Teresa will probably appreciate the setting." She grins. "It's less likely to catch on things."
Josie slips an arm around her wife's waist, gazing at the ring in approval. "And if for some reason she doesn't like it, this store has a decent return policy."
Santana frowns a little at that, wanting her pick of a ring to stick on the first try. There's only one way to find out if it will, so she tells the clerk she'll take it. Her heart rate doesn't slow down as she takes out her credit card and finalizes the purchase or even after she walks out of the store with her sales receipt clutched in her hand—not even knowing that she won't actually have the ring until sometime next week after the jeweler finishes having it sized.
"So you're really doing this," Josie teases, grinning from ear-to-ear—her hand tucked into Sarah's as they walk back to her car. "Finally taking the plunge."
"The five grand I just dropped on a ring says I am." Along with the fucking butterflies doing Kung-Fu kicks in her stomach.
"Assuming Teresa says yes," Sarah adds unhelpfully, sporting an annoying grin of her own.
Santana scowls at her. "Gee, thanks for that, Michigan." She's really not liking the woman right now—not that she likes her to begin with. Well, not very much. Not as a rule, anyway. Not outside of her own very (very, very) private thoughts. No one can make her say otherwise, and she's sticking to her guns on that.
"She'll say yes," Josie states with confidence, her grin turning playful. "I mean, who would turn down a doctor? She'll be set for life."
"Very funny, Red," Santana grumbles over the sound of her friends' laughter, but really, she's hoping Josie isn't wrong. She'll be more than happy to be Teresa's sugar mama if it means she also gets to be her wife.
It's hard, keeping her mouth shut around her girlfriend, but she manages to do it. And when she finally has the ring in her hand, she tucks the diamond into its little purple box and the box into her jacket pocket and heads directly from the jewelry shop to Quinn and Rachel's apartment because she's already going to catch hell from them for being third on her list of people to tell after her parents and the Cartwright-Deverauxs. But, in fairness, they have been kind of preoccupied with their kidlet for the last eight weeks. Understandable, she supposes.
They both still look pretty bedraggled when she breezes into their living room in search of her goddaughter.
"You're lucky she's still awake," Quinn mutters tiredly, gently lifting her daughter out of the rocking bassinet where it's parked next to the couch. "Or I'd be kicking your you-know-what for waking her up at this hour."
Santana snickers at Quinn's careful language. "It's, like, barely six-thirty."
"That amounts to one a.m. in newborn time," Rachel complains from the couch, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I can't even tell if it's night or day anymore."
Quinn makes a muted whimper of agreement as she steps closer to Santana. "Fifteen minutes, and then you're out of here," she warns, carefully transferring the baby into Santana's waiting arms.
"Hola, chiquitita," she coos the moment that precious little angel is cuddled into her chest, and she gazes down into alert gray eyes with a soft smile. She feels strangely calmer than she has in days just holding her goddaughter, and she sinks down onto the couch next to Rachel, only vaguely aware when Quinn practically collapses on her other side. "Have you been running your mamas ragged?" Callie only emits a cute little baby gurgle in response, waving a tiny arm at Santana, and Santana grins proudly. "That's my girl."
She feels a gentle poke to her shoulder from her right side where Rachel is sitting and a less gentle one from her left. "Hey, watch it there. I'm holding precious cargo." She smiles at the baby again, rocking her gently. "Isn't that right, Cal?"
"Calliope," Rachel corrects sternly.
"Whatever."
"So why exactly are you here commandeering our daughter tonight?" Quinn asks with a sigh. "Not that we don't enjoy your company..."
"When we're not sleep-deprived," Rachel grumpily interjects.
"But we haven't seen you in two weeks," Quinn continues with a small frown.
"I've been busy," Santana evades, not quite ready to lay her big news on them just yet. Her lips curve into a wicked smirk as she glances at Quinn. "And I figured you two would appreciate some space to celebrate your six-week postpartum check-up."
Quinn's face (predictably) turns red, especially when Rachel (also predictably) reveals, "We've been too tired to do much celebrating."
Santana chuckles, careful not to disturb Callie too much since her tiny eyes are just beginning to drift shut. "Ah, the joys of motherhood."
"It's worth it though," Quinn breathes out with a tender smile aimed at her daughter, and one glance down at the baby in her arms tells Santana that it's probably true.
"It is," Rachel readily agrees, "but we also wouldn't object to a few more hours of sleep."
"Amen to that," Quinn echoes, tipping her head back on the couch and closing her eyes with a tired sigh.
"Hey, don't doze off on me just yet," Santana cautions, adjusting her hold on the baby so she can dig into her pocket. "Not before I get your opinion on this." She pops the box open with her thumb and gently tosses it onto the coffee table before carefully cradling Callie with both hands once again.
Rachel immediately gasps, hand flying to her mouth in muted surprise, and Quinn sits up, looking confused by the outburst for all of three seconds until her gaze zeroes in on the table.
"Is that an engagement ring?"
"No. It's a diamond pacifier for your kid," Santana snarks, rolling her eyes. "Of course, it's an engagement ring."
Rachel practically falls off the edge of the couch in her haste to reach for the ring box. "Oh my God, Santana!"
"Don't get all grabby with it," Santana orders, poking at Rachel's shin with the toe of her shoe since her hands are otherwise occupied. "It's not for you."
Quinn shifts closer, leaning around Santana to get a good look at the ring in Rachel's hand. "It's smaller than I thought it would be."
Santana frowns, glaring at her profile. "Because you're a greedy bit…"
"Santana," Quinn hisses, cutting her off with a sharp frown and a poke to her leg as she tilts her chin towards Callie.
"Bitter old married lady," Santana easily amends before grinning down at her goddaughter—who once again appears to be wide awake and intently focused on what the adults around her are saying. "Yes, your mommy is," she murmurs, tickling Callie's little chin and earning a toothless smile.
Quinn's eyes narrow. "Don't call me old."
"It's a lovely ring though," Rachel interjects, gazing at Santana with a fond smile as she passes the box into Quinn's waiting hand for closer inspection. "I'm sure Teresa will love it."
Santana swallows past the lump in her throat, nodding. "Yeah, I hope so." If Rachel or Quinn pick up on the nervousness in her voice, they thankfully choose not to mention it.
"How are you planning to ask her?" Rachel asks excitedly.
Santana shrugs, careful not to jostle Callie too much. "I figured I'd just, you know, give her the ring over breakfast or something."
Rachel's mouth falls open and she stares at Santana with unconcealed dismay. "You can't be serious."
She pretty much is. Sure, all those cheesy proposal cliches had flitted through her head—the ring in a champagne glass over a romantic dinner, whipping it out on a carriage ride through Central Park, even doing it in some sappy song—but none of that crap really feels like her. "Well, I guess I could do it after sex."
Quinn snorts as she sets the ring back down on the table while Rachel huffs in indignation. "Oh, no. Absolutely not. We need to make you the perfect proposal plan."
"We don't need to do anything," Santana denies, horrified by the very thought of being subjected to a(nother) Rachel Berry Fabray plan. (She's choosing to ignore that one set-her-up-with-Teresa plan that had very much worked out in her favor.)
"You obviously need help with this, Santana," Rachel decides, gesturing to the table. "You can't just…toss the ring at her. You have to set the scene."
"Yeah?" Santana feigns interest, tilting her head thoughtfully. "You mean like ripping off my oaf of an ex-boyfriend's lame high school proposal by popping the question to my current squeeze on stage?" she mocks with faux sweetness, purposely bringing up what she knows is a sore subject and watching Rachel's face fall.
"Santana!" Quinn chastises, poking at her shoulder again. Really, she should be safe from that that shit while she's holding their kid!
Rachel crosses her arms, tipping her chin up with renewed resolve. "Proposing to Quinn on the stage of the renowned Wintergarden Theatre on the eve of my Broadway debut as Fanny Brice was an incredibly romantic and symbolic gesture...completely unlike the fumbling, ill-advised proposal that I received from an immature boy in our high school auditorium when I was barely seventeen," she mutters, clearly still sulking about it.
"It meant something to us, Santana," Quinn defends sternly before rolling her eyes, "despite the questionable similarity to that other proposal."
"Quinn," Rachel whines, instantly deflating again.
"But I loved it, sweetie," Quinn reassures her wife with a gentle smile that Rachel immediately mirrors.
"Well, I'm not popping the question at the hospital," Santana informs them. That would just be fucking tacky. "Or Resa's bar."
Quinn chuckles at that. "I don't know. You could always take her back to Ten Degrees...relive the day you two met. Oh, wait," she interrupts herself with a condescending smirk. "She shot you down that day."
Santana would flip her off if she wasn't holding a baby. "Har-dee-freaking-har."
"Don't discourage her, Quinn," Rachel reprimands before grinning conspiratorially at her wife. "Teresa has obviously learned to appreciate Santana's questionable charms since then."
"Hey," Santana huffs, offended. "You two are supposed to be supporting my momentous, life-changing decision here." She absolutely does not need to be reminded of how easily (and gleefully) Teresa used to turn her down.
"We do. The teasing is a sign of our affection," Quinn promises with a sly smile, and Santana rolls her eyes at having her own familiar defense turned against her.
"As is our attempt to help you create the perfect proposal," Rachel continues seamlessly. "Oh, I know!" She grins eagerly, practically bouncing in her seat. "You could take her to an art gallery and propose in front of the prettiest, most romantic painting there. Preferably one of hers."
"Yeah, I'm not doing that," Santana refuses on principle. "Public proposals are just begging for ridicule and embarrassment."
"Are you afraid she'll say no?" Quinn asks knowingly.
Santana feels her face heat. "No." A lie—but they don't have to know that.
Quinn's expression turns soft and sympathetic. "She won't, you know."
Santana shifts uncomfortably, pinning her gaze to Callie so her friends won't see the lingering vulnerability in her eyes. "Yeah, well, I'd rather just ask her in private. I managed to get her to move in with me just fine." So what if Teresa still jokes about the lack of romance in the invitation? She'd still yes anyway, and that's what really matters. "I think I can handle a marriage proposal."
"Of course you can," Quinn assures her.
"Oh…you're getting married!" Rachel all but squeals, throwing her arms around Santana in an awkward, sideways hug that has Callie starting to fuss a little in her arms.
"Hey, get off me." Santana grimaces, adjusting her hold on the baby. "You're squishing the munchkin."
"Oh, she's fine," Rachel dismisses, reaching down to brush her daughter's cheek with a gentle finger—instantly calming her once again. "Aren't you, little star?" she coos in a soft, motherly voice. "You're just happy that your Auntie Santana is getting married."
"Finally," Quinn tacks on with a sardonic smile, throwing her own arm around Santana's shoulder and effectively sandwiching her in the middle of some weird, Fabray family hug.
Santana doesn't tell them how much she fucking loves it.
And she definitely isn't planning any public proposals, but what Rachel said actually has her thinking about maybe trying to plan out something a little more romantic than 'let's get hitched' over their morning coffee. So she waits until she has her next day off from the hospital—no rounds to make and no 'on call' status—and she drags her ass out of her cozy bed at the crack of dawn, leaving her gorgeous, sexy girlfriend still asleep, so she can brew that coffee and also make some breakfast and set the scene to ask the most important question of her fucking life!
Her stomach is in knots and her heart is beating faster than it should be when she isn't working out or having sex, but she does her damnedest to play it cool when Teresa finally wakes up and greets her with a kiss to her cheek and a husky, "Morning, tiger," on her way to the coffee pot.
"Beunos dias, hermosa," Santana manages with a grin—because her girlfriend is beautiful and sexy, even with her sleep-mussed hair and wrinkled t-shirt, and God willing, Santana is going to make this woman her wife.
Teresa pauses her forward momentum, and a sexy grin appears on her lips just before she ducks her head back down to catch Santana's mouth in a real kiss, slipping talented fingers into her hair and lingering there for a long moment. "I love it when you speak Spanish," tickles against her lips before Teresa finally pulls away and resumes her quest for coffee.
Santana chuckles. "And I love the way you express that love, querida."
Teresa sends her a look that somehow manages to be equal parts aroused and reproachful as she pours the coffee into her favorite mug. "I just got out of bed, Santana, so don't get any ideas about getting me back in there for a few more hours at least."
"Oh, I have ideas," Santana admits cagily as she rises from the kitchen table and steps closer to her girlfriend. "And you know I don't need a bed for most of them," she purrs, pinning Teresa against the counter and swaying temptingly close—close enough to make Teresa's breath hitch in anticipation—before she rocks back with a teasing smirk. "But I'll let you eat your breakfast first." She pulls the lid off the electric griddle on the counter beside Teresa to reveal the fluffy, golden-brown pancakes that she's been keeping there on warm. "I mean, I went through all the trouble of making it."
"You cooked?" Teresa asks in surprise. "What's the occasion?"
A marriage proposal, Santana thinks but doesn't say, opting to defend her kitchen prowess instead. "Hey, I cook for you when I have the time, and I have the time today," she explains with a shrug. "You mentioned wanting to work on that painting you started the other day, so I figured I'd give you a little extra time to do it by taking care of breakfast."
Teresa cups her cheek and brushes a soft kiss across her lips. "Thank you, Ana," she murmurs sweetly. "But the painting can wait until tomorrow. I like to spend your days off with you."
"I can spare a couple of hours for your art," Santana stubbornly insists—in fact, she kind of needs that to happen today so she can surprise her with the ring. "Then we can spend the rest of the day playing."
And celebrating.
She hopes.
Teresa's smile is nearly blinding. "Well, in that case…serve me up some of those pancakes."
Santana does just that, and she manages to get through breakfast without vibrating right out of her skin with nerves. If Teresa notices that she's acting a little weird, she doesn't say anything—even after she makes a move to clean up the kitchen and Santana heads her off, snatching the dirty plate right out of her hand. "Go get some painting done," she instructs. "I'll take care of this so you can spend the rest of the day taking care of me." She says that last part with her typical lewd smirk immediately followed by a quick and dirty kiss and a smack on Teresa's very fine ass.
Laughing, Teresa gives a playful little shove to Santana's shoulders as she steps back. "Well, I'm not about to argue myself into cleaning duty." She reaches up to stroke Santana's cheek again. "I promise I'll only put in an hour or two…then I'll be all yours."
"I'm counting on it," Santana tells her, meaning it more than Teresa can realize.
She watches her girlfriend walk out of the kitchen with her heart beating right out of her chest and into her throat. She only has a few precious moments at best, so she hastily tosses the plate into the sink—because yeah, cleaning up the kitchen was a total lie—and races to the hallway closet to make a clumsy grab for the little box that's stashed inside her jacket pocket because she couldn't come up with a better hiding place that Teresa wouldn't stumble over.
Ring in hand, she jogs across the apartment to the room her girlfriend uses for her studio and slides to an inelegant stop at the doorway just in time to watch Teresa fussing with the cover she keeps over her paintings to protect them from sunlight and dust. Santana's heart rate spikes when the cover finally comes off, because the canvas underneath it isn't the painting that Teresa has been working on for the last several days—Santana had carefully stored that one in the closet this morning—but a sparse canvas with a (sloppily painted) sky blue background, an amateurish, nondescript yellow flower in the corner, and the words Will You Marry Me? painted in broad, red strokes.
So maybe Santana had kind of gotten the idea from Rachel, and she'd possibly stolen one of Teresa's blank canvases and spent a night slapping some paint on it while Teresa was working at the bar, and it's also possible that she'd dragged that fucker over to the casa de Fabray to stash until last night—much to Rachel's complete and utter delight and Quinn's haughty amusement.
But it seems like the 'I-told-you-sos' from the Fabrays might be worth it when her ears pick up a shocked, whispered, "Santana," right before Teresa spins around with wide eyes and the obvious intention to immediately find her girlfriend, only to stumble to a hasty stop when she sees Santana already standing there with the ring box open in her (unsteady) hand.
Santana smiles nervously. "So, will you?" she asks softly. "Make me an honest woman?"
Teresa's blue, blue eyes dart from Santana's face to the ring and back again, mouth open in silent surprise. Santana begins to fidget under the intensity of her gaze, and her stomach bottoms out when Teresa takes a trembling breath and turns her back on Santana. For a moment, she feels like she can't breathe, and she kind of wants to cry like a fucking baby until she sees Teresa reach for a brush, dip it into the paint that she'd already put on her palate, and lift it up to add a flowing, violet Yes across the canvas right underneath Santana's question.
Air rushes back into Santana's lungs when Teresa turns around with shining eyes. "Yeah?" she exhales in hopeful relief.
Teresa nods, laughing happily as she tosses the paintbrush back onto the table beside her easel. "Yes," she finally says, stepping forward. "Yes, of course, I will." And then she's throwing her arms around Santana, and Santana is so fucking happy that she lets out a whoop, pulling her fiancée even closer and kissing her with all the joy she's feeling right now.
Teresa kisses her back with the same joy, laughing happily when she finally tears her mouth away and gazes into Santana's eyes. "I love you, Ana."
Santana grins like fucking loon. "I love you too, Rese. Obviously. I mean, I just asked you to marry me." She slides her right arm away from its comfortable position around her fiancée's waist and lifts up the hand that's still clutching the purple box. "I have a ring and everything."
Teresa's eyes sparkle as she glances down at Santana's offering. "It's a nice ring."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Teresa confirms with a nod.
Santana arches her eyebrows. "Does that mean you're gonna wear it?"
"Yeah," Teresa repeats, sounding a little bit breathless at the thought.
"Like, right now?" Santana presses, really wanting to slide it on her finger.
Teresa rolls her eyes, loosening her hold on Santana and lifting up her left hand, fingers spread in invitation. "Go for it, tiger."
Santana does just that, plucking out the ring and carelessly tossing the box over her shoulder with a smirk. Teresa laughs as Santana takes her offered hand and very gently slides the ring into place, taking a moment to admire it there. "Looks good," she decides with a satisfied nod.
"I'm surprised it's not covered in big, gaudy diamonds," Teresa teases, busy doing a bit of her own admiring.
"Like you'd've worn it," Santana scoffs knowingly.
"Probably not," Teresa agrees easily. "But I'm guessing you'll want one like that."
"Oh, hell yes," Santana confirms—the biggest, flashiest diamonds she can find. "But I'll pick that out for you to give me later." Teresa rolls her eyes at the predictable response, and Santana smiles, taking her hand again and running her thumb over the diamond. "I'm just happy you like this one." She pauses, frowning curiously as she studies Teresa's face. "You do like it, right? You're not just faking it to spare my feelings."
"When have I ever done that?" Teresa challenges with a cheeky grin. Santana shrugs, knowing that she usually says what she means but also knowing there are times when she'll pull her punches to be nice. Teresa's expression immediately turns soft and serious. "I like it. I love it," she corrects, stroking a thumb across Santana's cheek. "You did good."
The last of Santana's lingering uncertainty disappears in a puff of smoke, and she preens with pride, slipping her arms around Teresa's waist once again.. "Yeah. I did real good," she murmurs, not actually talking about the ring—though she'd done good with that too. She's not going to mention the help she got picking it out just yet. "I got you."
Teresa's answering smile is absolutely breathtaking. "Yeah, you do," she confirms before kissing Santana so very tenderly. When she pulls back, her eyes are suspiciously wet, but there's a spark of mischief in them that Santana recognizes and fucking loves. "Now, I think you mentioned something about me taking care of you for the rest of the day."
Santana grins wolfishly, her heart soaring. "More like the rest of my life."
Teresa laughs again, shaking her head indulgently. "I guess I can live with that."
"Yeah, 'cause I'm a fucking catch," Santana boasts playfully, laughing when Teresa pokes her side in warning. "And you caught me fair and square," she continues more seriously. "For keeps."
Teresa sighs happily, curling her arms around Santana's shoulders and gazing at her with unconcealed adoration. "Lucky me."
"I'm the lucky one," Santana corrects softly, seriously, because it's the absolute truth. She's got a career that she's damn proud of, friends she can count on, a family she adores, and a smart, sexy lady who'd just agreed to stand by her side for better and worse—but mostly better, because that's just how she rolls.
Yeah, Santana Lopez just got lucky for life.