Santana and Brittany are at Brittany’s parents for Thanksgiving. It’s only the four of them this time, since Brittany’s sister has just moved into her college dorm and apparently said she “isn’t homesick enough” to come home for Thanksgiving.
Santana twirls a rose in between her fingers as Brittany steps out into their backyard, holding a bouquet of very similar roses. Santana grimaces when she sees Brittany’s disapproving look at her single rose, but says nothing as Brittany takes her hand and walks her to a makeshift headstone at the edge of their yard.
"Why do you do that?" Brittany asks, handing Santana a soapy dish to rinse.
"Pucker your lips so hard that your cheeks puff out when you give me a mouse kiss."
Brittany demonstrates with her own lips, but she exaggerates it so much that Santana can’t help but laugh.
"I dunno, it’s just the way I kiss." She’s finished rinsing the dishes in the sink, so she leans on the counter and watches Brittany scrub the remaining cookware. "I’ve always kissed that way."
"Yeah, but they’re mouse kisses not hamster kisses." Brittany dumps a sudsy pot into Santana’s sink.
She sighs and rolls her sleeves up again to turn on the water, rinsing the pot thoroughly, feeling for any stuck on foods left behind. Brittany drains the water on the other side while she arranges the dishes in an organized manner on the dish rack, still pondering about Brittany’s comment.
"Well, maybe my cheeks are just full of kisses I’m saving for later."
Brittany smirks and tugs Santana’s sleeves back down. “Kind of like, rainy day hamster kisses?”
Santana leans in and puffs her cheeks out, offering her lips up for a “rainy day hamster kiss”. She mumbles something that sounds like “Exactly, now give me a kiss”, but the words come out adorably distorted that Brittany decides to just kiss her anyway.
Photos don’t do it justice.
Sure, they capture the twinkle in her eyes when she really laughs at something. The way her eyes almost disappear because she’s grinning so widely.
Still, it’s not the same.
Videos don’t do it justice.
Every now and then, somehow, more often than before you broke up, you guys will video chat. She’ll laugh at some offhand comment you make about your lame sociology professor who tries to be hip with the kids. The blur of the pixels don’t show her laugh lines, the shake of her shoulders when she tries to stifle her laughs.
Still, it’s not the same…
Which is why when he calls you, practically begging, even though he tries not to show it (but you see right through him, you always have), to come and play Rizzo, you don’t even hesitate.
You’re already piling up toiletries and clothes, just enough for a day or two, because you’re going back.
Going back to see that smile again.
Brittany opens the door to a smiling Santana who greets her with a kiss. Santana kicks the door closed behind her and leans into the kiss, one hand full with a bulky paper bag and a duffel bag in the other.
"So, what’s date night this week?" Brittany asks, reaching to take the duffel bag away from Santana.
Santana dodges her hand and walks around her to the kitchen, setting the plastic bag on the counter.
"I thought we could start with dinner, courtesy of Breadstix," she explains, unpacking the paper bag. "And then we could watch a few episodes of Sweet Valley High," she continues, unzipped the side pocket of her duffel bag and pulling out DVD cases.
"Then…if you’re in the mood, we can finish off with some special sweet lady kisses. I brought something for you."
Santana taps the other side pocket of the bag to make her point.
Brittany smiles, tugging Santana closer to her by the belt loops of her jeans.
"I love date night."
Expect less frequent updates, I wanna make the rest of this just right }:>
As always, shout out and holla to MCM for being an awesome pair of extra eyes!
Dr. Kleiner doesn’t have to excuse Santana from Dr. Lichen’s side. She’s out the door and chasing Brittany before it even has time to click shut. She sees Brittany slip between two nurses into the change room. Santana pushes past the now-annoyed nurses, rushing after Brittany until she’s face-to-face with the locked door of a handicap stall.
“Brittany,” she pants, out of breath. “Open the door.”
I will continue to upload the new chapters here, as well as on FF.Net for easier reading.
Thanks for reading and enjoy!
Apologies about the font colour, won’t be able to fix it until next week at the latest.
Enjoy, and, as always, mad props to MCM!
“Something’s wrong with you,” Rachel states. Santana stops filing her nails and looks at her. Rachel eyes her carefully with her hands at her hips, half naked, in the changing room. “I’ve been changing in front of you for two whole minutes and you haven’t made one quip about my lack of breasts.”
Don’t forget to give kudos to MCM!
Santana fiddles with her necklace, her leg bouncing as she waits for Brittany to arrive at the hospital. Dr. Kleiner is humming to himself behind the computer, flipping through a science journal. A knock at the door sends Santana springing from her seat to open it. She lets Brittany in with a soft “Hello” and finds herself being led by the hand to a corner of a room.
"What’s up? Is everything okay?"
Brittany nods, pulling out her phone and typing out a message. She hands it over to Santana to read.
"Your dad isn’t coming, because he has to take your mom to the airport?" she reads aloud.
Special thanks to MCM for editing assistance!
Santana eventually found her elusive cellphone before Brittany left the hospital. Daniel was hustling Brittany reminding her they had to pick up her little sister from ballet class. Brittany and Santana hurriedly exchanged numbers and Santana watched as they left the hospital.
Santana’s first session with Brittany and Dr. Kleiner started next month, but that’s all she knew about it. She wasn’t filled in on any other details other than to wait for further instruction.
Santana was unsure of what to expect, making the days leading up to their appointment all the more stressful. The only thing keeping Santana powering through it are the conversations she has with Brittany over text.