It takes some more kisses and some more laughing, but eventually Brittany and Santana scoot to the top of the bed and slide under the covers. Santana reaches across Brittany and flicks off the lamp.

"Hello, Santana's boobs!" Brittany says brightly as Santana's chest presses over her, close to her face.

"Hush up, you," Santana smirks. "You're the one who wants to go to sleep."

The room falls into darkness. Now that they can't see each other, things seem a bit more serious, not in a bad way, but in the kind of way that makes you want to stay still and quiet. Santana peels away from Brittany and settles back onto her side of the bed; Brittany immediately misses her heat and pulls Santana into an embrace. For a second, they both squirm, finding the right way to fit against each other. It only takes a second, though, because they've done this for such a long time that they've worn into each other; their bodies link like matching puzzle pieces.

They both sigh.

For a few minutes, it's silent, then Santana whispers, "Hey, Britty?"


"Thanks for inviting me over," her throat catches, almost like she's going to cry, except Brittany knows it's not that—it's just that she has something big to say and not enough voice to say it with, whispering like this. "It's just… it's really nice."

(Brittany knows exactly what it is.)

"The nicest," Brittany agrees. They both squeeze each other a little more tightly at the same time.


"We should do this every night," Brittany blurts before she can help herself. She waits for a second, not breathing, wondering if she said too much.

"Mhmm," Santana agrees through the kind of sigh she makes when she feels entirely safe.

(Brittany's pretty sure she's the only person in the world who ever hears Santana like this.)

"I love you, San."

"I love you, too."

"Sweet dreams."

"Sweet dreams."

Brittany kisses Santana's forehead. She can't tell when she really starts dreaming.