Will You Marry Me Too: Brittany and Santana
Brittany checked herself over in the rearview mirror one last time. She had very little make up on, her hair was pulled back into a messy bun. She had on an old pair of jeans on that made her legs look like they were a mile long, paired with a grey told that said, I flew in on a unicorn, in white lettering. She grabbed her keys out of the ignition before grabbing the bag of take out and heading inside.
“Babe?” She walked into the house. Her hope was Santana didn’t see the pillow and blanket fort she made in the back yard before leaving that morning. She used nearly every pillow and blanket she could find. She needed them outside for the projector to work. And the projector playing the movie she had made was important for her plans. “I picked up dinner.”
She had never felt more stressed in her life. She set the take out bag on the living room coffee table, her head falling into her hands. There was so much to plan. So many decisions to make. She and Santana didn’t even have a place to live in New York, or jobs, or plans. And then a wedding on top of all that? It was starting to make her feel like she was in a room that was getting smaller and smaller by the second.