Summary: "Santana's had about as much red, white, and blue as she can stand, but this blue- the blue of Brittany's eyes- she will never have enough of." Brittana. Sweet!smut. SUMOSMU HOLIDAY SPECIAL. :')

Warning: This story is full of feelings and some sweet lady kisses. It's not the smuttiest, but with feelings it's better, so take a break from the dirty talk and see how Brittana spend their first Fourth of July together in New York. 8'D

A/N: Hi there! I know I just saw ya'll yesterday, but I had planned to write a SUMMER OF SMUT HOLIDAY SPECIAL, so here it is! Hope you guys are having a great Fourth. That's basically it.

This story is dedicated to my favorite jelly of all the jellies, jellymankelly. As always, read her shit. You won't be disappointed.

This story is NOT dedicated to Lighthouse (NegativeSpaces) because she's a cunt and refused to write a holiday special because she's Canadese and doesn't celebrate it. WHATEVER BITCH. THANKS FOR NOTHING.

Happy reading~


"San, stop it," Brittany chides, swatting her girlfriend's hand away from where it's trying to sneak a cookie past her. A pile of Chessman cookies rests on a plate beside her on the counter, and she gives her girlfriend a stern glare over her shoulder as she stirs the pot of vanilla pudding she'd just finished making. "Those are for the cake."

"BrittBritt," Santana whines, foregoing her attempt to steal a cookie and sliding her arms around Brittany's waist instead. She pulls her in tight to her body, loving the way she feels in her arms, and presses a kiss to her bare shoulder, nuzzling her face there. "Can I just have one?" She presses another kiss to Brittany's shoulder and does her best to sound pitiful. "Please?" (Santana doesn't necessarily want a cookie all that much; she just wants to be close to Brittany, to have an excuse to be in the kitchen with Brittany.)

Brittany sighs, rolling her eyes. She sets down her cooking spoon and leans back into Santana's embrace, and Santana smiles knowingly against her shoulder as she feels her girl succumb to her request. "Okay," the blonde relents. "You can have one."

Santana's smile grows wider and she presses one more kiss to Brittany's shoulder as she reaches around her again for the rectangular shortbread resting on the plate; however, just as she thinks she's secured her cookie, she feels Brittany's hand on her wrist, stilling the movement of her hand and halting the cookie's path to her mouth. She watches over Brittany's shoulder as the blonde brings her hand, holding the desired cookie, up to her mouth, and Brittany takes a small bite, her lips brushing against Santana's fingertips. Santana swallows at the feeling of Brittany's mouth against her fingers, and she tightens her right arm which is still around Brittany's waist, pulling the girl in even closer.

Brittany hums as she swallows her mouthful of cookie, and Santana groans low in her chest as Brittany kisses her fingertips slowly, slipping her tongue out to lick at the crumbs and curl around her fingers. When Brittany bites into the cookie and tugs, Santana releases the cookie automatically, and then her girlfriend is spinning in her arms, the cookie still between her lips, a blonde eyebrow raised playfully, inviting.

Santana doesn't hesitate to lean forward and take the offered cookie from Brittany's mouth with her own, her lips brushing against Brittany's as she does. She eats it quickly, savoring the sweet taste of the shortbread, and then she licks her lips for any crumbs she missed before moving back in to press her lips fully to her girlfriend's.

Brittany doesn't hesitate to slide arms around her shoulders and Santana lets her left hand reach up to cup Brittany's jaw, pulling her in to kiss her deeper before moving further up to tangle in her blonde hair. Their lips slide together, years of practice making their movements effortless, but months apart making them exciting and new. Santana hears Brittany moan in her mouth, and the sound reverberates through her body, sending a jolt of arousal straight between her legs; she pulls back from the kiss and trails kisses down across her jaw, and Brittany hums in pleasure before slipping her hand up to cradle the base of Santana's skull, massaging there and making Santana's sensual pecks transform into open-mouthed kisses against her neck.

"San," Brittany mumbles, and at Santana's acknowledgement, she continues, "San, we can't. I've gotta finish the cake-" her words end in a low gasp as Santana's teeth find her pulse point. She tightens her grip on Santana's hair and tugs lightly. After a few more kisses, Santana sighs with happiness, nuzzling her face into Brittany's neck and breathing in her scent, her whole body molding into Brittany's taller frame.

"Okay," she says finally, her voice small and a little scratchy. She pulls away and stares up into sparkling blue eyes. Brittany's smiling at her, her eyes so full of love and tenderness it makes Santana feel warm all the way down to her toes. Her heart pounds in her chest at Brittany's look of adoration, elated and still in slight disbelief that such a perfect, beautiful girl is not only her girlfriend, but is also standing in the kitchen of her loft in New York.

While it's true Santana had spent every Fourth of July with Brittany since they've been friends, after the events of the past school year, she wasn't sure if she'd ever get to spend the holiday with her again. She makes it a point to treasure the holidays they get to spend together, now- the fear of having almost lost Brittany a constant reminder of the fragility of life.

Santana inwardly rolls her eyes at herself and all of her deep thoughts, and finally Brittany shoos her away and out of the kitchen so she can finish assembling the cake. Santana goes reluctantly after one (or two, or three) more kiss(es), and instead looks around for something to occupy herself with while she waits for Brittany to be free from her domestic duties. Her chest tightens, her heart giving a flutter; Brittany's cooking for her. In her kitchen. She can't help the dopey smile that slides onto her face as she looks around the living room.

Because of the holiday, Brittany had only had a one-day school week at MIT, and had taken the train from Boston last night- Tuesday night. They'd spent all day at the beach enjoying the sunny weather, kissing and tanning and giggling and splashing in the water, and now they were at home, recreating one of their favorite traditional Fourth of July desserts in preparation for the holiday. Santana had spent all of Tuesday cleaning in preparation for Brittany's arrival (though she'd only admit it under torturous circumstances) but since two other people live in the loft, it never stays clean for long.

Humming to herself, Santana goes to her iPod dock and picks a playlist, and soon enough, the soothing voice of Ella Fitzgerald fills the loft. Santana walks over to the couch and absent-mindedly arranges the chic throw pillows Kurt had decorated it with. She's not partial to them, but she doesn't care all that much, instead dreaming about when she and Brittany will pick out their own throw pillows. Her cheeks warm as she fluffs the pillows. Someday they'll have their own place, she knows.

She sighs wistfully and then tidies the various items strewn about on the coffee table, crumpling up a flier with an obnoxious picture of the flag on it, advertising fireworks. As much as she loves having Brittany home (home- her heart flutters at the thought) with her, she's had about as much of red, white, and blue as she can stand. She's bending to put a book back on their bookshelf when she feels Brittany's hands slide tenderly onto her hips, swaying to the music. Brittany tugs her and spins her around, and before Santana can protest, Brittany's leading her into a slow, easy waltz around the living room.

Santana falls into step, years of practice making their movements effortless, months apart making them exciting and new; their moves are fluid, instinctual, and the bright smile on Brittany's face makes Santana's heart pound again.

Birds do it
Bees do it

Brittany pulls her closer, and they gaze into each other's eyes, Santana consumed with Brittany's scent. The blonde still smells like suntan lotion, but the way it mingles with the unique scent of her skin is familiar and makes Santana feel intoxicated. Brittany's hand is steady as it holds hers, her eyes deep blue and sparkling, and Santana can't help falling into them, can't help feeling overwhelmed. She wonders if she's awake or if she's dreaming, because as many times as she'd imagined her life like this, it still seems too good to be real. She feels a blush coming to her cheeks as Brittany continues to gaze unabashedly at her, as if she's never seen someone so wonderful, and Santana's had about as much red, white, and blue as she can stand, but this blue- the blue of Brittany's eyes- Brittany's blue- she will never have enough of.

Let's do it
Let's fall in love

Santana giggles as Brittany dips her dramatically, and then pulls her up and into a tender kiss. She can feel her girlfriend's grin against her lips, and she can't resist smiling into the kiss, too, feeling like a complete, hopeless fool in love. When Brittany pulls back with an adoring expression, Santana's heart skips about ten beats.

"What about the cake?" she asks as Brittany resumes leading her around the room. She feels breathless, even though they aren't doing anything other than shuffling slowly. It's the effect Brittany has on her.

"It's in the fridge, gorgeous," Brittany says with a smirk, and Santana's blush grows deeper at the compliment; her heart skips about twenty more beats and she briefly worries that she might go into cardiac arrest- especially when Brittany leans in to steal another kiss and twirls them expertly. Santana doesn't hesitate to press even closer, sliding an arm around Brittany's neck and tightening her grip on Brittany's hand as Brittany's lips fit between hers and they kiss slowly.

Their dance slows but doesn't stop, and when they pull away from their kiss, Santana squeezes gently at the back of Brittany's neck, burying her fingers in her hair and massaging the base of her skull. Brittany hums in pleasure, and Santana smiles shyly.

"Thank you," she says, but her eyes say I love you so much. "For the cake."

Brittany returns her smile, her eyes shining back playfully (I love you, too) as she shrugs. "I know it's your favorite. I hope mine is as good as Mom's."

Santana stops, and lets her hand slip from Brittany's grasp. "It'll be even better, B," she breathes, reaching up to cup her jaw, "because you came all the way here to make it for me." She leans in and brings their lips together again sweetly, and Brittany hums again, letting both her arms slide around Santana's waist. They sway gently, just holding each other and kissing to the music, until Kurt and Rachel come home and find them.


Santana wakes up early on the Fourth of July with a sigh of absolute satisfaction. Brittany is wrapped around her, naked, their skin pressed together, their legs intertwined. She's warm, but not overheated, and she can still feel the stickiness and slight soreness between her legs, evidence from their intense lovemaking last night. She feels like she must still be dreaming. Her pillow is too soft, her blankets are too snuggly, the warm, pale arm hugged to her chest is too soothing for her to be awake, for this to be real.

Brittany's deep, steady breathing behind her fills her up with a sense of peace she can't even explain; she just wants to stay like this all day, but she knows she can't. It's their first Fourth of July in the city, their first Fourth of July on their own, and they have plans. So with a reluctant sigh, she turns in Brittany's arms and reaches to gently stroke fingers down her cheek.

Even in sleep, Brittany leans into her touch, a small smile spreading over her lips, and Santana's had about as much red, white, and blue as she can stand, but this blue- the blue of Brittany's eyes when they first open in the morning- she will never have enough of.

"Hey," Santana greets with a soft, shy smile, cupping Brittany's cheek.

"Hey," Brittany mumbles, her eyes soft like the shared pillow beneath their heads. Brittany's arm tightens and she pulls Santana closer, and Santana lets her eyes slip closed as Brittany's lips find hers. They kiss for a few moments, learning how the other slept through the language of their lips, and when they pull away, Santana rests her forehead against Brittany and sighs happily.

"We've got to get out of bed," Santana mumbles, as if it's the most unappealing task- and it is.

Brittany buries her face in the pillow and tightens her grip on Santana even further. "What if I say no?"

Chuckling, Santana presses sweet kisses to Brittany's bare shoulder, breathing over her skin, "But I'm taking you to breakfast, B."

Brittany peeks out from the pillow. "Breakfast?"

"Breakfast," Santana confirms with a nod and another grinning kiss to her shoulder.

Brittany sighs, but not with dissatisfaction. She sighs with something that sounds a lot like she can't believe Santana is real. "You just get me, San."

Santana just gives her an adoring smile.


After they shower, dress, and eat a breakfast of red, white, and blue waffles at Santana's favorite diner (she'd been dying to bring Brittany there ever since she'd found it when she first moved to the city) they take the subway up to Central Park. It's bright and sunny and not too hot, with a gentle breeze keeping them from overheating. The sky is blue, the sun is out, and Brittany's hand is in hers- proudly so- and Santana can't help but think that her day is perfect already.

Brittany is dressed casually in tight, white capris and a fitted blue plaid button-up shirt, and Santana has had about enough red, white, and blue as she can stand, but this blue- the blue of the sky and the way blue looks on Brittany, the way it brings out the blue of Brittany's eyes- she will never have enough of. Brittany's hair is pulled up into a ponytail to keep her neck cool, and she wears a white newsy cap on her head. (Santana adores when Brittany wears hats.) Santana's dressed in a light-colored sundress, her own hair pulled up into a loose ponytail, but with her bangs swooping across her forehead. Her shoulders are sporting a nice tan from the beach, and she wears huge sunglasses to block out the intense light from the sun. (She can't blame it- it must be hard trying to complete with the light coming from Brittany, who absolutely glows beside her, a radiant smile permanently gracing her beautiful face and making Santana's heart pound.)

They spend the morning just strolling casually through and around the park. With the festivities (but really, all the time) all variety of vendors had set up kiosks along the streets, selling every kind of cheap knock-off curios possible. Fake Ray Bans, posters, phone cases, I Heart NY shirts- Santana indulges her girlfriend as Brittany meanders through the kiosks, inspecting small wooden carvings, clay sculptures, hemp jewelry. Santana just trails behind her, gazing at her fondly and watching the way Brittany's face scrunches with concentration as she picks up and looks at different trinkets.

They reach a small half-tent that boasts Hats Galore and Santana already knows they are going to be there for a while. Brittany's eyes widen with excitement and she pulls away to scan through the racks, and Santana just sighs. She could do this forever, she's pretty sure. The table next to the half-tent catches her eye- it's laid out with jewelry, and, knowing Brittany's going to be occupied for a while, she wanders over to inspect the set-up. It's been a while since she bought Brittany anything besides food (not that Brittany complains about food- she has a penchant for shrimp, after all) and despite their friendship bracelet still meaning more to her than any other accessory (or anything else) she owns, it's their first Fourth of July on their own. She scans the rows of silver jewelry and as she gets about two-thirds of the way through, she spots something that she just has to buy.

Checking over her shoulder to make sure Brittany's still busy (she spies her girlfriend trying on a Rastafarian hat- complete with fake dreads- and giggling, and her heart gives an involuntary tug) she quickly pays for her purchase and stuffs it into her purse carefully, then wanders back to her girlfriend, who is now sporting a lion hat, complete with an unruly mane that falls around her face.

Santana can't help reaching up to brush some of the stray furs off Brittany's cheek as the blonde giggles. "Nice, Britt," she says with a smile.

"You're not lion are you, San?" Brittany asks slyly, wiggling her eyebrows.

Santana grins wider, shaking her head and letting her fingertips trail down Brittany's neck. Brittany's smile fades to something a lot softer, and she leans forward and kisses Santana, right there.

And Santana kisses her back, silly lion hat be damned.


For lunch, they hit up a food cart and continue walking. Small impromptu Fourth of July performances erupt all over the city- people on stilts, people twirling flags, random marching bands, random solo instrumentalists. Brittany grins in awe at all of them, and Santana's not really enamored with the performances, but more Brittany's reaction. She's utterly delighted, and Santana's face lights up like a kid's just from watching her. She squeezes Brittany's hand as they make their way through Times Square, which is bustling with preparations for the forthcoming fireworks. Groups of cops stand on every corner. People pack in closely from all sides, already staking out good spots for the show, and Santana smiles warmly as Brittany gives her a curious look.

"Are we staying in Times Square for the fireworks?" she asks.

"Do you want to?"

Brittany ducks her head shyly, looking up at Santana through her lashes, pink spreading over her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, and Santana's nearly overcome with the desire to kiss her senseless. Brittany shrugs coyly, and Santana squeezes her hand again, understanding Brittany's silent language. (Santana always understands Brittany.)

"We're heading back soon," she murmurs against Brittany's cheek before she presses a kiss there. The grateful look Brittany gives her makes her knees weak.


It's later that night, and they're cuddling on the roof of their building on top of a soft blanket spread out over the concrete, sipping on wine coolers and listening to Rachel and Kurt bicker. They're cooking on a tiny, old, rusted charcoal grill that Rachel had rescued from the trash at the beginning of the summer. She'd dragged it home- used charcoal included- and up to the roof, and since then, she'd taken an interest in learning to grill vegetables.

Santana couldn't care less, really. Brittany's leaning back against her with her head resting on her shoulder, and Santana has her arms around her, and the night is warm as they gaze up at the clear sky, waiting for the fireworks to start. They'd brought the iPod dock up with them, and Frank Sinatra's Fly Me to the Moon croons softly in the background, barely audible over the sound of Hummelberry arguing.

"Kurt," Rachel complains. "Your sausages are too close to my veggie kebabs!"

"Wanky," Santana purrs slyly against Brittany's ear, and she feels Brittany's body shake against her with her giggles.

"It's a tiny grill, Rachel! I don't know where you want me to put them-"

"Not on top of my vegetables, it defeats the purpose-"

Santana rolls her eyes and tunes them out, and then Brittany turns slightly, nuzzling her face into her neck, and she hums as warm, soft lips press to her skin.

"Did you have a good Fourth?" Brittany breathes, her movements lethargic as she just basks in Santana's close proximity and warmth. (She's so, so content and wouldn't mind never leaving Santana's arms.)

"Perfect," Santana sighs, her voice low and full of love and serene happiness. She never thought she could feel so- so complete. Rachel and Kurt are annoying, but the three of them have become each other's family. They've built a home, a life together, and the only thing missing was Brittany. But now that Brittany's here (home, Santana thinks, heart fluttering) who's always been her family, everything feels perfect. She's surrounded by people she loves, she's surrounded by love. She couldn't imagine a more perfect way to spend her holiday.

"Better than last year?" Brittany asks, hopeful.

Santana's heart twinges slightly with pain. (Last year was bittersweet as she prepared for college and good-byes she never wanted to say out loud.)

"Every year I spend with you is better than the last, B," she admits honestly, reaching up to comb her fingers through Brittany's hair, and Brittany sighs, melting further against her. She presses a kiss to Brittany's temple and whispers, "I love you so much."

"Aww," Rachel squeals before Brittany can respond, and Santana raises her gaze disapprovingly to find the tiny brunette standing over them, holding a hand over her heart.

Santana rolls her eyes. "Can you go choke on a mushroom or something?"

"Wanky," Brittany teases in her ear and she grins stupidly. She can't help it.

The loud sound of Kurt's ringtone, Come What May, blares out into the night, and Kurt drops what he's doing to answer. "It's Blaine," he says, striding quickly to the ladder that will lead him downstairs as he lifts his phone to his ear.

"Kurt- do not!" Rachel screeches, chasing after him. "Your sausages-!"

Brittany giggles again in her arms, and Santana tightens her hold, squeezing protectively. Just then, the first fireworks streak up, lighting up the sky with a faraway pop. Santana watches Brittany's face. She's had about enough red, white, and blue as she can stand, but this blue- the blue of the fireworks as they flash across Brittany's skin- she will never have enough of.

Brittany's eyes sparkle with delight, with the reflected lights in the sky, and Santana's voice tightens with emotion from the effect. She swallows, her chest feeling constricted as her heart thumps, so overwhelmed by how much she absolutely adores the girl lying in her arms. "I love you," she says again, hoarsely. She presses a kiss to the side of Brittany's head and closes her eyes, breathing in the smell of her hair.

Brittany turns in her arms, offering a slow, awed smile. "I love you, too," she says earnestly. She leans forward; their lips brush, lingering. Santana tilts her head, ready to deepen the kiss, when suddenly Kurt charges up the stairs.

"Santana!" he shrieks. "Why didn't you tell me my sausages were burning?!"

Santana sighs. Brittany just giggles and kisses her as the fireworks blaze into the sky.


They all eat together on the blanket, watching the fireworks, talking and listening to soft music. Quinn had declined their invitation to come, choosing to return home to Lima for the summer. Blaine was coming to New York in August, and wanted to spend as much time with his family before he left. He'd be with them soon enough. Finn was coming up in a few weeks before school started, so it was just the four of them, and to be honest, that's how Santana preferred it.

After dinner, they bust out Brittany's Flag Cake, and Santana can't help the way the butterflies dance in her stomach at the nervous expression on Brittany's face as she takes her first bite.

"Well?" Brittany asks anxiously.

Santana pretends to think for a moment, and finally, when Brittany looks like she's about to explode from anticipation, she laughs. "Britt, it's amazing. The best I've ever had."

"Really?" Brittany's face lights up brighter than the fireworks going on over their heads.

Santana nods. "Really, really. It's way better than Mom's." (Her heart thumps at the fact that she still calls Mrs. Pierce Mom, not knowing that Brittany's is doing the same.) She leans in to plant a grateful kiss on Brittany's lips. "Thank you, baby."

"Mm," Brittany hums. "You're wonderful, you know that?"

Santana shrugs. "No- tell me more." At Brittany's playful shove, she laughs and takes another huge bite of her Flag Cake, grinning teasingly around her fork.

"Oh, my God, Brittany," Rachel moans. "This is delicious."

"It's not vegan," Brittany deadpans.

"She's not a true vegan, anyways," Santana says with a roll of her eyes before shoveling another bite of cake into her mouth. It really is the best she's ever had.

Rachel shoots them an incensed look and Kurt huffs. "Rachel, you can't be mad, I saw you eating cheese yesterday."

"And I'm also pretty sure you definitely used butter on these vegetables," Santana agrees.

"That was cheese substitute," Rachel sputters.

"And you just ate Flag Cake," Brittany points out with a nonchalant shrug as she picks at her own, stabbing a strawberry.

Rachel's silent for a moment before she says, "Well, it was still delightful. Thank you, Brittany."

Brittany smiles genuinely. "You're welcome."

Rachel and Kurt start talking about the performance they had gone to the previous night, and Santana only half-listens, focusing on her Flag Cake. She licks whipped cream from her fork and is suddenly aware of Brittany's eyes on her. She turns to find Brittany watching her intently, and she smirks, teasingly slowing down the licking of her fork, and watches as Brittany bites her lip. The fireworks continue to explode in the distance, and Santana's had about as much red, white, and blue as she can stand, but this blue- the blue of Brittany's eyes, dark with desire- she will never have enough of.

She feels Brittany's hand on her knee, the warmth of her palm practically burning her skin, and her breath hitches at the touch. Brittany squeezes, and their eyes meet with an unspoken promise as they share a smile.


It's late in the night, and Kurt and Rachel have disappeared back down to the loft to spend the rest of their night glued on their separate phones to their respective counterparts, and Santana is so, so grateful to whatever powers govern the universe that for once, she doesn't have to spend her night doing that- that for once, the girl she spends most every night on the phone with, missing, is right here in her arms, pressed against her.

She kisses Brittany slowly, exploring her mouth. Brittany tastes like Flag Cake and wine coolers, and Santana can't get enough of the sweetness of her tongue as it strokes against her own, igniting her blood, stoking the slow-burning fire that's been building in her all day from being so close to the woman she loves. Brittany's hands are cradling her face, and she's cupping the back of Brittany's neck, holding her close as they breathe each other in. Brittany sucks lazily at her plump bottom lip, and Santana feels tension building low in her stomach at the action. She slips her free hand to Brittany's lower back, tugging her shirt up to splay her fingers over her warm skin, loving the curve of her spine and the heat beneath her hand.

When a moan rumbles up from Brittany's throat at the touch, Santana pulls back, slightly out of breath, and struggles to control herself. She doesn't want to get carried away yet- she has something to do first.

"I have something for you," she murmurs as Brittany cranes her neck forward and brushes her lips along her cheek and up her jaw, darting her wet, pink tongue out to taste. She shivers at the sandpaper smoothness against her skin.

"Is it a red, white and blue strap-on?" Brittany breathes, pressing a kiss to her pulse point.

"What?" Santana pulls back, breathless, shaking her head in confusion until she catches Brittany's catty, playful grin, which tells Santana that Brittany knows full well that Santana would never. She smiles crookedly and leans over to snatch at the bag which contains her purchase from earlier.

Brittany watches curiously as Santana bites her lip and pulls out a thin chain- a necklace- with a small pendant on it in the shape of a bird. It's not like the tacky silver bird-in-flight pendants that have suddenly become so popular- it's different. The bird looks fragile, vulnerable. And Santana swallows, remembering, as she strokes her thumb over it before looking up into Brittany's glassy eyes.

Brittany looks like all her air has left her as Santana presents the necklace to her, and she accepts it as if it's made of glass. "San…" she whispers, staring at it. She looks up, and their eyes meet. Santana has so many things she wants to say (I'm yours and the songbirds are singing and I love you like never before) but words fail her, and she just shrugs helplessly, trying to communicate with her brown eyes that words just aren't enough- will never be enough.

Brittany smiles, understanding Santana's silent language. (Brittany always understands Santana.) She reaches for Santana's hand and squeezes. "Will you put it on me?"

Santana smiles and reaches for the necklace in answer, and she clasps the chain around Brittany's neck, intimately letting her hands slip along the base, her fingertips grazing her skin as she straightens the necklace. The charm falls into Brittany's parted shirt, landing on her chest right next to her heart. Santana admires the shine, and the way the fireworks, still lighting up the sky, make it sparkle even more. When she raises her eyes to Brittany's, she finds blue eyes filled with so much devotion and love that it takes her breath away, and suddenly Brittany's kissing her passionately, hands slipping around to fist in her hair and cradle her close. Brittany tugs her ponytail free, and Santana feels her hair spill over her bare shoulders, feels Brittany's affectionate fingers combing through it. Santana can only wrap arms tightly around Brittany and hold on as the blonde pushes desperately against her.

"I love you so much," Brittany gasps between fierce kisses. Santana moans in response, tightening her grip further, and they fall to the blanket, Santana sprawled half on top of Brittany, one of her legs slipping between her girlfriend's as they kiss and hold each other even closer.

Brittany bites at her lip, and Santana swipes her tongue against her in response, and then their tongues are curling around each other, stroking aggressively into each other's hot mouths. Brittany pants her name as Santana nips down her jaw to suck at her pulse point briefly. She traces the tip of her tongue around Brittany's ear, listening to her low moan, and then sucks the lobe into her mouth, nibbling teasingly. Brittany buries fingers in her hair, rubs her other hand up and down Santana's back encouragingly as she squirms beneath her. She cants her hips up against Santana's thigh, and they start a slow, grinding rhythm.

Santana slips a hand under Brittany's button-up shirt, sliding her warm palm across the hot skin of Brittany's stomach. Brittany's muscles tense and tremble under her touch, and her breath picks up, coming in little gasps, low whimpers released on each exhale as Santana teases her fingers across her girlfriend's abs. Brittany's kisses have become increasingly more urgent, more desperate, and after what seems like a small eternity, she pulls back to gaze down at Brittany's flushed face. She drops her eyes to Brittany's shirt (her heart skips a beat at the bird pendant nestled against her breastbone) and reaches up to slowly unfasten the buttons.

Brittany pants beneath her, tracing her fingers up Santana's bare arms, and Santana presses kisses down Brittany's chest, reveling in all the newly-exposed skin as Brittany's shirt gradually peels apart with the opening of each button. She sucks at Brittany's stomach, grazing her teeth across her abs, and Brittany whimpers, tightening her hand in her hair. She opens her mouth against the dip in the V of Brittany's hips, sloppily lapping at the skin and loving the way Brittany's moans have grown louder, her squirming more obvious.

She pops the button of Brittany's capris open and tugs them and her pink thong down her toned, pale thighs. She's not worried about someone coming up and finding them- her roommates know better, and are occupied, regardless, and no one else in their building even uses the roof but them. They're completely alone, and Santana takes full advantage of it as she kisses her way back up Brittany's torso to her bra. She sends Brittany a sexy, knowing smirk as she recognizes that it clasps in the front- Brittany obviously prepared for this. Brittany lifts slightly and offers her a shameless grin in response, and Santana notes how flushed her face is as she pushes the cups of Brittany's bra apart, revealing perfect, creamy breasts and hard, pink nipples.

Growling, Santana bends to suck one into her mouth, and Brittany arches, her head falling back in pleasure. Santana feels Brittany's grip on her head again, holding her to her chest, and she doesn't disappoint her girlfriend as she bites at Brittany's stiff nipple gently, letting her tongue swirl around it and feeling it harden further in her mouth. She alternates sucking and biting, all the while swiping her tongue against it while Brittany moans her name and tugs tenderly at her hair. She pauses to switch breasts, nudging Brittany's new necklace with her nose on her journey across her chest, and then Brittany's hissing in pleasure, low, encouraging words tumbling from her lips.

When Brittany's breathing has become ragged and her writhing more desperate, Santana sits up and gazes down tenderly at her. Brittany stares up at her, eyes dark, lips parted, chest heaving, stomach tense, thighs quivering. Santana tugs her dress up and over her head, then straddles Brittany's thigh wearing nothing but her panties and bra. Brittany moans at the sight of her bare skin, and immediately reaches up to grope her breasts through her bra. Santana hums in pleasure as Brittany squeezes roughly, then reaches around to unclasp it deftly with one hand, already tugging the straps down with the other. Santana gasps as she feels her breasts fall free, and then gasps louder at Brittany's warm palms against her nipples. Involuntarily, her hips press down against Brittany's thigh and she's surprised by how wet she is- she's already soaked through her underwear.

Brittany's hips rise to meet hers, and she bites her lip at Brittany's slick warmth against her thigh. Brittany slips against her skin easily as she moves her hips, and Santana falls forward breathlessly to kiss her again.

She can't help herself as she immediately slips her left hand down between Brittany's legs. Brittany's so ready for her, and she touches her slowly at first, lovingly, watching the pleasure play out on Brittany's face like it's her favorite movie. (It is.)

Brittany's not quiet as Santana slips two fingers into her tight, velvet heat, but the popping of the fireworks in the distance and the explosions of illegal nearby firecrackers mask her desperate cries as Santana begins to move inside her. She rides Brittany's thigh, and even though she's wearing panties, the friction combined with the way Brittany squeezes around her fingers as if trying to draw them deeper, as if trying to keep them buried deep, has her quickly approaching the edge. She curls her fingers and sucks at Brittany's neck, rolling her hips as Brittany cries out into the night with each thrust.

"Kiss me," Brittany pleads next to her ear, and Santana drags her tongue up Brittany's jaw and then smashes their lips together, both of them struggling to breathe but unwilling to let their lips part.

Santana rests her forehead against Brittany's and concentrates, her heart pounding, her stomach tightening. She feels overwhelmed with love and desire and Brittany.

"You're so beautiful," Brittany gasps, the effect of Santana with a backdrop of colored lights streaking across the sky behind her making her even more breathtaking to the blonde.

Santana feels Brittany's fingers scratching at her scalp, and then Brittany's wrapping arms around her, hugging her close. They stare at each other, panting into each other's mouths, and Santana feels like she's falling all over again as she nears her orgasm. When Brittany gasps that she's close, Santana redoubles her efforts and presses her thumb up to stroke over Brittany's swollen clit, grinding against her thigh with abandon. Brittany tumbles over the edge with a loud cry, and Santana's had about as much red, white, and blue as she can stand, but this blue- the blue of Brittany's eyes when she comes- she will never have enough of. She falls apart seconds after, and despite her heavy breathing, she kisses Brittany fiercely, communicating to her silently. (I love you.)

As she lays trembling on top of Brittany, the aftershocks thrumming pleasantly through her, she closes her eyes and hears Brittany's heart beneath her, pounding hard, and then slowing into a steady, calming thud. (She's still not used to being so close to Brittany, to feeling her heart so close to hers.) She traces her fingertips on Brittany's stomach lazily, nuzzling her face into Brittany's chest as Brittany runs soothing fingers through her hair.

"I think," Brittany starts, her voice low and rough, but playful, thoughtful, and it makes Santana's stomach pulse. "I think independence was the best thing for us."

Santana smiles against Brittany's skin and presses a kiss just above her heart. She looks up at Brittany's face as she says earnestly, "I think you're a genius, Brittany."

Santana's had about as much red, white, and blue as she can stand, but this blue- the blue of Brittany's eyes, so full of appreciation and unreserved gratitude and so much love- she will never have enough of.

(She thinks Brittany's blue might be her favorite color.)


Flag Cake is a real thing.

It's kind of like banana pudding- only instead of Nilla wafers, there's Pepperidge Farm Chessman shortbread cookies, and instead of bananas, you use strawberries and blueberries. You make a couple of layers and then on top, use the fruit to make an American flag pattern. Or, if you don't give a fuck, just throw them shits on there. It's delicious. If I can find the exact recipe I'll share it on my tumblr, but it's basically as I've described.

Thanks for reading! Review if you just have a lot of feelings. If not, then you know. Don't.

AND NOW A WORD FROM ~OFFICER SAFETY:

If there are fireworks shooting off above your head, it's probably not a good idea to have sex. The last thing you need is a hot firework in your vajay.

Brittana was, of course, safe because the fireworks were like waaaaaay in the distance. And they are Brittana, so. You know.

As a general Fourth safety warning- please don't shoot guns off into the air. Bullets come down somewhere. They may not kill anyone because they don't fall with the same force with which they were fired, but they will still cause serious injury.

Follow all safety warnings when using explosives and for fuck's sake, don't stick fireworks in your ass. It's definitely not a good idea.

PLAY SAFE AND STAY SAFE! :D

See you next Wednesday. :)

***title comes from the Animal Collective song of the same name. :')