Chapter Text
She keeps waking up in the night, and it takes her sleepy brain a moment to remember where she is. The closet isn’t where she expects it to be and the set of drawers casts shadows over the bed that she’s not used to, and all of a sudden the only thing she recognises is Santana, black hair somehow blacker against the darkness.
She doesn’t know what she’ll recognise when Santana’s at Stanford and she’s all alone.
She reaches for her quickly, something like panic bubbling up in her chest, but she barely has to move her hand until she finds her, curled towards her with her head on the very edge of Brittany’s pillow, her breathing deep and even. She’s so close that Brittany could lean forward and kiss her if she wanted to, but she settles for sliding her hand down to rest on Santana’s hip under the covers, thumbing over the bone as she moves her other hand above Santana’s head and moves closer, Santana’s legs tangling into hers in her sleep, like they can’t help themselves.
Santana sighs, this contented little noise that cuts straight to Brittany’s heart, and shifts closer, a clumsy arm looping around Brittany’s waist, her fingertips pressing into her back for a moment before her hand goes loose again.
Brittany drifts in and out of sleep, falling in and out of dreams of Santana and roads and rings and motels. Every time she wakes up Santana is even closer than she was before so first she has her arm looped around her waist and then she has her leg thrown over her hip, her forehead bumping against Brittany’s lips each time either of them breathes. She’s not sure if Santana’s the one moving or if it’s her arms pulling Santana closer, but the last time she wakes up, some time around 4am, Santana wakes up as well and blinks up at her, trying to make sense of how close they are, legs tangled together as they hold on tight.
Brittany watches the sleep haze fade from her eyes.
“Britt?” Santana whispers after a moment, voice scratchy and deep, and presses her fingers against Brittany’s jaw like she’s reassuring herself that she’s there.
“I’ve got you,” she says, and watches Santana nod a little, almost to herself.
“Stay there, Britty,” Santana mumbles, her fingers curling into Brittany’s hair as her eyes flutter closed.
She doesn’t want to do anything else.
Santana’s breathing goes deep again, and though Brittany closes her eyes she can’t seem to turn her brain off to find sleep, so she ends up peering down at Santana and watching her instead, her fingers tracing shapes through her hair as her other arm holds her close, wishing she never had to let go.
Santana looks so beautiful that she almost can’t stand it. Her eyes move under her eyelids and Brittany wonders what she’s dreaming about, if she’s dreaming about the two of them in some wonderful place together, pinky fingers curled around each other wherever they are so they don’t lose each other.
(Like they ever could.)
“I love you,” Brittany whispers as softly as she can, hoping it doesn’t wake Santana up, just because she needs to sometimes when it feels like it’s so big inside of her that she thinks she might die from it if she doesn’t say it out loud.
“I love you,” she murmurs again and again and again, only it doesn’t feel like it’s getting any smaller.
It doesn’t feel like it’s getting any smaller at all.
“Britt?” Santana murmurs, later.
Her eyes flutter open and Brittany moves her fingers against her spine, to show she’s listening, “Mmm?”
“I love you too,” Santana says, blinking the sleep from her eyes as her fingertips find the hinge of Brittany’s jaw.
Brittany closes her eyes and leans into the touch.
“I love you too,” Santana says again, like she’s trying to make her understand, and there’s something a little bit desperate in the sound of it.
When Brittany opens her eyes, Santana is staring up at her steadily, brown eyes fixed on blue, something dark and unreadable hiding inside them.
Brittany always understands.
Brittany closes the space between them without a second thought, her hand finding Santana’s cheek as her other slides down and settles in the small of Santana’s back, pulling her closer against her until their hips fit together and Santana gasps into her mouth. It’s slow and soft, both promising things they hope the other can feel, openmouthed and full of need in a way that makes something flip over in Brittany’s belly.
It’s like every kiss they’ve ever shared and every kiss yet to come, even though she doesn’t understand how that’s possible when it’s just her and Santana, when it’s always just her and Santana and none of the rest matters, not the bed that’s supposed to be hers, or the room she doesn’t recognise, or the city she’s never been to before but she lives in now.
It’s just her and Santana, and that’s all she really needs.
The alarm on Santana’s cellphone goes off at 7am, and Santana rolls away from her for a second to kill it before coming back and settling against her again.
“I have to go to Stanford,” she says, and Brittany brushes a strand of hair away from her eyes, nodding softly.
They’re silent for a minute, their breathing the only sound in the room.
“I don’t want to,” Santana admits, pressing her face into Brittany’s chest so her words come out muffled.
Brittany rubs her fingers against Santana’s spine and feels her relax, and she presses a kiss to Santana’s forehead when she finally looks up and watches the smile quirk at the corner of her mouth, there for just a second before it’s gone.
“It’s just for a year,” Santana says, more of a question than she probably intended. “It’s just for a year and then we can find some place together, right? We can live halfway and see each other every day and come home to each other at night and—”
“Of course,” Brittany says softly, her thumb stroking against Santana’s cheek. “We have forever, Santana. One year apart isn’t the end of the world.”
“Then why does it feel like it,” Santana says, and then they’re kissing again.
She’s not used to the way the morning light comes through the shades that are hers now, at how it glints off Santana’s skin, revealing and hiding her all at once. It’s like she’s finding Santana in the dark the way she always did, but better and different and more all at once, because she comes looking into Santana’s eyes, their fingers moving to the same rhythm as their hips rock together, Santana gasping after her as she follows, murmuring Brittany’s name as her fingers dig into her skin like they never want to let go.
“We have to get up,” Brittany says, after.
She tries to move but Santana’s arms tighten around her, and she feels the warm press of her all down her side. “I wish—I wish we could stay here forever,” Santana says, and Brittany remembers another night, just after graduation, where they’d laid together in another bed and wanted the same thing.
“We have to get up,” Brittany says again, tracing swirling patterns over Santana’s skin, and Santana shivers under her touch. “We have to get up so you can go learn how to be a doctor or a lawyer or a whatever-you-want, so this year goes faster instead of slower and we can live together in the next one, so we can wake up like this every morning and not believe how lucky we got.”
Santana still looks doubtful, and Brittany tries to smooth out the frown from her forehead with her fingertips. “We have to get up so we can shower together before you leave,” Brittany says, straightfaced the same way she said the other things, and Santana smirks up at her, her eyes flashing.
“Okay,” she says immediately, “But next time you should probably lead with that.”
And then they’re both laughing as Brittany tries to shove her off, huffing like she’s all offended while Santana clings to her tighter, pressing wet, sloppy kisses to her face as she laughs against her skin.
They stay close to each other without really talking about it, never further than an arm’s length away, and they keep brushing their fingers against each other’s skin absentminded, like they’re checking they’re still there.
Brittany tries hard not to think about the times she’ll reach for Santana and she won’t be there, just takes her hand and leads her towards the bathroom in their hastily thrown on pajamas and hopes Jenny won’t catch them.
They wrap themselves around each other in the shower, staying close as the water covers them and keeps them warm, laughing as they steal kisses and wash the shampoo from each other’s hair, Brittany’s fingers untangling the strands reverently as she strokes through them, making sure all the suds are gone.
Santana’s eyes are wide as she watches Brittany’s face carefully, standing perfectly still as Brittany works through her hair. Brittany’s hand moves to cup the hinge of Santana’s jaw when she’s done and tilts her head up until she can kiss her, soft and warm and wet. It’s the kind of kiss that lingers but doesn’t deepen, and after a moment Santana pulls away to rest her forehead against Brittany’s.
“Thank you, Britty,” she mumbles, and Brittany’s not sure that she’s only talking about washing her hair.
They get dressed in silence, Brittany pulling on shorts and a t-shirt while Santana pulls on brown pants and a tank top, and reaches for the white jacket she threw over the back of Brittany’s desk chair the night before, the last clean outfit she has left from her overnight bag. Brittany watches Santana fuss at her top for a moment, smoothing it down as she peers down at herself critically, and she just shakes her head, wondering when Santana’s going to realise how amazing she looks, no matter what she’s wearing.
Brittany slides her arms around Santana’s waist from behind and rests her head against her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck. She knows Santana wears certain outfits like armour but the only reassurance she can think to give her is, “You look beautiful,” and after a moment she feels Santana relax back against her so she’s almost but not quite holding her up.
They stand there for a moment, Santana’s fingers finding Brittany’s hands at her waist and covering them, until Brittany laces their fingers together and tugs her towards the door.
“Let me make you breakfast,” she says, and then comes to a stop so that Santana bumps into her.
“I don’t have any food,” she says, and then they’re both laughing again even though Brittany isn’t even sure what’s funny.
Jenny’s already in the kitchen when they get there, eating her way through a bowl of cereal as she flicks through a newspaper. She glances up when they stop in the doorway, still joined at the hand and smirks. “I thought I heard you two in the shower,” she says, and Brittany watches Santana blush and feels the heat in her own cheeks.
Santana opens her mouth but no words come out and Brittany is just as lost, wondering if maybe showering with your girlfriend is something you’re supposed to discuss the etiquette of before it happens rather than after.
“Relax,” Jenny says, rolling her eyes at them. “We’re all adults here. I’m not shocked and appalled to discover that you two have seen each other naked you know.”
“Sorry if we woke you up,” Brittany offers and watches Jenny shake her head.
She rinses her bowl and drops it in the sink, offering them a smile, “You didn’t. There’s cereal in the cupboard over there if you want it,” she says pointing.
“Are you sure?” Brittany says quickly, “Because we could—”
“It’s just cereal, Britt,” Jenny shrugs, and shuffles the pages of her newspaper together so she can scoop them up. “There’s milk in the fridge,” she tosses over her shoulder as she squeezes past them and disappears into her room. After a moment they hear her door open and close and then footsteps heading for the bathroom.
“She’s kind of awesome,” Santana says as Brittany fixes them the cereal. “I hope my roommate is cool too.” Brittany hears the nervousness hiding just behind her words.
“If she’s not you can come live here with us,” Brittany says with a grin, pouring less milk into one bowl and sliding it towards Santana. “Jenny probably won’t care.”
“Promise,” Santana asks as she picks up her spoon, her eyes fixed on the cereal in her bowl like she can’t bring herself to meet Brittany’s eyes.
“Pinky promise,” Brittany says solemnly and feels Santana relax into her side.
Brittany tugs the car keys out of Santana’s hand when it’s time for them to leave, smiling when Santana starts from her thoughts and looks over at her.
“Let me drive,” she says softly, reaching for Santana’s hand after she shuts the door behind them and Santana just nods and lets herself be pulled along.
Brittany opens the car door for her when they get downstairs, just because, and holds it open until Santana’s all the way inside before shutting it and coming around to the driver’s side. She takes her time fastening her seatbelt and typing the zipcode into the GPS, and Santana shifts nervously in the passenger seat, twisting her hands together in her lap.
“Ready?” Brittany asks when she’s done, and watches Santana swallow.
“No,” Santana says, only Brittany thinks she sounds like she’s joking, and she twists the key in the ignition and pulls out into the road.
They’re quiet but not uncomfortable as they head around the bay towards Stanford, their fingers laced together across the console as Brittany glances at the GPS and then at the signposts, like she’s checking they match.
It’s weird to think that this is the last time they’ll be in the car together after all the time they spent there the last week, and Brittany glances down towards the cupholder, and then across to Santana’s hands still twisting together in her lap while they wait at a red light. Santana catches her gaze and reaches for her hand, and Brittany grins at the shy smile on Santana’s face.
“Hi,” Santana says, and Brittany’s smile widens in response.
“Hey,” she says, and waits for the light to turn green.
The traffic gets heavier the closer they get, and Brittany watches Santana watch the other cars, glancing at them quickly and away like she doesn’t want to look too close. Brittany squeezes her fingers tightly as they follow the directions of the over enthusiastic upperclassmen in red t-shirts, driving slowly behind a trail of cars as they head for Stern Hall.
Santana peers out of the window at the buildings all around them, trying to take it all in, and Brittany can almost see her struggling to remember it all and remember the way they came.
“We’ll find a map once we park,” Brittany says softly, and Santana looks over at her in surprise, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“How do you do that?” Santana asks, something like awe in her voice, and Brittany shrugs, considering.
“You think loud,” is all she says, offering Santana a lopsided smile as they pull over into a space near Santana’s dorm. “And I know how to listen to you, so.”
“You’re magic,” Santana says and Brittany grins wider, that too big feeling building inside her again.
“For my next trick, I’ll find your dorm room,” Brittany says, waving her arms a little before reaching for the door. She waits for Santana to follow her out of the car and come round to meet her, glancing towards the building in front of them and the people in red shirts standing by the doors.
“Can we—can we explore a little bit first?” Santana asks after a moment, struggling to find the words. “It’s still early and if we go inside it’s closer to the time you have to leave,” she says, voice tiny, and Brittany reaches for her hand, thumb rubbing against the spaces between her knuckles without thinking about it.
“There were shops back that way,” Brittany says, “We could go get a bottle of water or something.”
She offers Santana her hand and waits for her to take it.
“Okay,” Santana says, her fingers sliding into the gaps between Brittany’s easily.
They find their way to a couple of shops and a wide open space filled with students, new and old. There are more people than there ever were at McKinley, and Brittany feels Santana’s hand tighten in hers as they stand there for a moment watching everyone.
“They all look like they know where they’re going,” Santana says, and Brittany glances towards her quickly, nudging her with her shoulder.
“I think they’re just pretending,” Brittany says, and Santana nods a little although she doesn’t look like she quite believes it.
People keep pushing flyers into their hands for everything from themed parties to reading groups, and when a girl with short spiky hair shoves a flyer for the LGBT Community Resources Center into their hands with a grin, Santana just raises her eyebrows and laughs while Brittany peers down at it, all interested.
“But how did she know?” Brittany whispers theatrically, and Santana just uses their joined hands to pull her closer and press a quick kiss to her lips.
“Oh,” Brittany says, lips quirking into a grin as Santana laughs and curls into her, the flyer still clutched in her hand.
They buy two bottles of water and then Brittany tugs them towards the gift shop when she sees a girl and her parents come out carrying a brand new Stanford sweatshirt, even though Santana protests and says she doesn’t care about buying something.
“You’re not at college until you have the sweater to prove it,” Brittany says and Santana just rolls her eyes, about to argue before Brittany cuts her off. “And you look so good in red,” she says with a little pout until Santana just smiles and shakes her head.
“So what am I buying?” she asks, and Brittany laughs, reaching for a sweatshirt.
“This,” she says, holding it up for Santana’s inspection. It’s a red hoodie with Stanford emblazoned across the chest in white, and Santana just nods, happy to go along with whatever Brittany suggests.
Brittany holds it up against herself for just a second, glancing down to see what it looks like and watches Santana’s eyes narrow a little.
“That looks a little big,” Santana says after a second, and Brittany paints an innocent expression onto her face.
“I’m your girlfriend, I know what size you wear, Santana,” Brittany says, and drags her towards the clerk before she can argue again.
Brittany carries the bag when they get outside and reaches for Santana’s fingers with her free hand, smiling happily when Santana grins to herself and shakes her head, her eyes shining whenever she sneaks a glance at Brittany.
“You’re a real college student now,” Brittany says on the way back to the car, because she knows how Santana feels about uniforms and clothing and fitting in, and watches Santana shake her head.
“It’s just a sweatshirt, Britt,” Santana says with a shrug, coming to a stop once they find their car hidden amongst all the others, and Brittany reaches for her cheeks to pull her closer and kiss her, soft and sweet, Santana’s bottom lip between both of hers before she can stop herself.
Santana’s hands go to her hips and she sighs into the kiss, standing up on her tiptoes so they’re the same height. It’s a long moment before either of them pulls back, but they stay close, Brittany opening her eyes to find Santana smiling at her, her eyes dark and shining.
“What was that for?” Santana asks, leaning back against the car a little and pulling Brittany with her, and Brittany just shrugs and grins, pressing a tiny kiss to the very corner of Santana’s mouth.
“Nothing,” she says, and Santana just shakes her head like she can’t believe she ever got so lucky.
“I love you,” she says, and Brittany grins wide.
“I know,” she says and laughs when Santana gives her a shove.
Santana shows the people by the door her paperwork and they direct her towards her new dorm room, one floor up and around a couple of corners. There’s no sign of a roommate, and Brittany watches Santana hover between the beds for a second like she doesn’t know what to do.
“Should I just pick a bed?” Santana asks eventually, “Or should I wait until my roommate shows up?”
Brittany shrugs, “You’re over thinking again,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around Santana’s waist. “Let’s just bring your stuff in and see what happens.”
“Okay,” Santana says, and lets Brittany pull her back towards the door.
She doesn’t have that many boxes of stuff, and it only takes them three trips to get it all inside. Brittany collapses onto one of the beds once they’re done, bouncing on the mattress before she comes to a stop, and Santana watches her for a second before she sits down next to her.
Brittany flops onto her back and reaches for her hand, rubbing her thumb against her knuckles. “I pick this bed,” she says and Santana nods, leaning down to kiss her, her hair hanging around them like a curtain and blocking everything out so that all Brittany can see is Santana.
“We should hang a sock on the door,” Brittany murmurs against her lips, her hand sliding up to tangle into her hair, and Santana laughs and pulls away.
“No way,” Santana says with a laugh, “I’m coming to visit you; you have your own room.”
“Promise,” Brittany says, and Santana’s grin widens.
“Pinky promise,” she says and Brittany pulls her down so she can kiss her again.
They’re halfway through unpacking the boxes and stashing Santana’s clothes away in her newly-claimed closet when a key rattles in the door and it opens, and Santana looks up quickly, nerves evident on her face.
“Um hi,” a pretty dark haired girl says, eyes sliding over the pair of them quickly as she freezes in the doorway. “I’m Katy. Are you—I guess one of you is my roommate?” She takes a step inside and looks around, glancing at Santana’s stuff laid out on one side of the room and dropping the bag she carries onto the other bed.
“Me,” Santana says quickly. “I’m Santana, and this is my girlfriend Brittany.”
“Hi,” Brittany offers with a grin.
Katy doesn’t even blink at this information and Brittany decides right then and there that she likes her, “My boyfriend’s here too. He’s living in Wilbur so he’s moving his stuff in before he comes over here.”
“Brittany goes to Berkeley but don’t hold it against her,” Santana says, and laughs when Katy pretends to recoil in horror, a grin on her face.
“So you have a little Romeo and Juliet thing going on,” Katy says, gesturing between them and then frowning to herself. “Juliet and Juliet?”
“Something like that,” Santana says, glancing at Brittany out of the corner of her eye, and Brittany squeezes her hand before she lets it go to pull the photographs Santana had brought with her out of the almost empty box, glancing at the pictures of the two of them through the years, some alone and some with their friends, but always happy and together.
“Yeah,” she echoes, “Something like that.”
The boxes don’t take that long to unpack, and pretty soon there’s nothing but the Stanford sweatshirt in a bag and nothing else to occupy their hands. Santana’s hand creeps into hers, and when she looks up she has that same summer-sadness on her face from before they left Lima, and all Brittany wants to do is kiss it away.
Katy has disappeared to get more of her stuff, but she could be back at any moment, and Brittany pulls Santana to her quickly, kissing her hard, one hand tangling into her hair as the other slides down to the small of her back.
When they break apart, Santana bumps her forehead against hers and sighs out a breath. “Do you have to go?” she asks and Brittany’s fingers tighten in her hair and against her back, wishing they could stay.
“One week,” Brittany says softly. “It’s only a week.” Only it sounds more like forever, the way she says it. “You won’t even know I’m gone.”
“I will,” Santana says quickly, but she lets Brittany go, her hands falling to her sides as she forces herself to take a step back.
They stare at each other for a moment longer, neither of them quite sure what to say, until Santana turns to pull the bag with the Stanford sweatshirt off of her desk and offers it to Brittany.
“You forgot something,” she says with a half smile.
Brittany grins and reaches inside for the hoodie, tugging at the tags until they come off and she can pull it over her head, despite the heat. It’s a little big but it fits, just like she knew it would.
“How did you know?” she says, and Santana smirks.
“You like baggy sweatshirts,” she says, and reaches up to adjust the hood slightly. “Just don’t wear it at Berkeley.”
“I’ll wear it all the time I’m not with you,” Brittany says, and she means every word.
It’s Katy coming back that forces them to untangle themselves from each other, and Katy flashes them a sympathetic look as she edges towards the door again, not even thinking of an excuse before she leaves.
“I love you,” Santana whispers urgently, like she really needs to say it in case Brittany forgets, and Brittany feels her breath catch in her throat, that too big feeling back in her chest.
“I love you too,” she replies, and kisses her once more, hard and fast and desperate before she forces herself to turn and walk away.
She hears Santana’s breath hitch behind her but she doesn’t look back, just presses her hand to her heart and keeps walking, telling herself that it’s only a week, it’s only a week, tugging at her brand new sweatshirt and counting down the seconds until she’s in Santana’s arms again.