I was randomly inspired at the grocery store the other day, and this happened.

It's pure fluff, honestly.

Hope you enjoy!

(OFFICIAL ART for this fic is on my Tumblr (snixxlixx) so check it out!)

In the land of milk, Santana finds her honey.

"Listen here, Berry. If you actually think I'm going to run down to the grocery store right now, and get you a carton of fucking almond milk, you're out of your damn mind."

Santana's been forced to do a lot of crazy shit for Rachel over the years, but going out in a thunderstorm just to get milk, that's where she draws the line. A little rain she can handle, but a Someone-Fucked-with-Zeus-and-Now-He-Wants-Revenge storm is ridiculous.

"As I recall, last weekend when you were thoroughly hungover, I went to the store at six in the morning to get you some bananas."

"And...?"

"You said, and I quote, 'Rachel, next time you need anything from the store, I promise I'll drop everything and get it for you, if you just get me the effing bananas.'"

Santana huffs. Despite having been drunk off her ass, she does remember saying that. Why she would consciously put herself in debt to Rachel, she has absolutely no idea, because her roommate has the worst possible timing with shit like this.

Glancing out the window at the torrential downpour, Santana runs her fingers over her scalp, pushing back her hair. "Does it have to be right now? Why do you even need almond milk?"

"Yes, it has to be right now. I'm making these delicious vegan cranberry scones, and the recipe calls for almond milk. Normally I would already have some, but Kurt and I used up the rest yesterday in our almond milk lattes during our weekly Downton Abbey marathon."

"Of course you did," Santana mutters, opening the closet, and she digs through the wall of hanging jackets to find her raincoat. Spotting the bright yellow plastic, she pulls the jacket off of the hanger, scowling at it. She despises her raincoat, because seriously, nobody looks good in yellow, but as her abuela says, 'The only way to prevent un cabrón from running you over in the rain is visibility, Santanita.'"

After buttoning up the dreaded jacket, and slipping into her rainboots, Santana turns to face Rachel with a glare.

"This is never happening again. Do you hear me? Never."

"The scones are waiting, Santana."

Slamming the door behind her a little harder than necessary, Santana trudges down the four flights of stairs of their cruddy apartment building, and out the main entrance into the pouring rain.

As the rain beats down against the hood of her raincoat, Santana sprints down the sidewalk, the puddles under her feet splashing upward to make her considerably more soaked.

"Fucking Berry," Santana curses, as a particularly huge puddle sends a splatter of water up into her face. "What the hell did I do to deserve this?"

Rounding the corner of the block, and nearly avoiding a collision with an elderly man holding an obnoxiously large umbrella, Santana sighs in relief at the sight of the Schuester Grocery sign. Six splashing steps later, she finds herself safely under the cover of the store's awning. The sudden cease of pestering rain is calming, but Santana becomes uncomfortably aware of how drenched she truly is as she walks through the automatic doors.

The emptiness of the store is unsurprising, given the wrath of Mother Nature outside, and Santana internally groans when she sees Sue Sylvester unoccupied at the cash register.

"You look like a soggy banana, Lopez," says Sue, as she twirls a five-dollar bill around her finger. "Or are they called plantains where you're from?"

"Not in the mood, Sue," Santana mutters.

Santana is mystified that such an offensive woman would be hired anywhere, but she's heard rumors that Sue spent two years in jail for destruction of property, and she somehow convinced William Schuester to hire her out of sympathy. Santana figures that man must be some sort of saint, if he can put up with her disregard for basic human decency.

As she makes her way to the back of the store, Santana's wet boots squeak on the tile floors, and the sound echoes off the isle shelves. The place is seriously empty, and the absence of the store's signature awful disco music makes it especially quiet. Santana revels in the silence, the peace being a welcome change from the typical hustle and bustle of city shoppers.

Santana pauses as she approaches the back wall of the store. Cartons and gallon bottles of milk line the refrigerated shelves, in countless brands and varieties. She's never actually bought almond milk before, or any other milk besides the regular milk she's always bought, and she feels kind of dumb, searching the shelves like she's playing Where's Waldo.

After a solid minute of just standing there, Santana shakes her head, walking up to a section of milk quarts. Tracing her finger along the cartons, she scans the labels one by one.

"Skim...organic...lactose free…" Santana mutters, rolling her eyes at her inability to find a variety of milk. "Okay, what the actual fuck is grass milk?"

Suddenly, in the small gap right in front of her, between 'Guernsey milk' and 'non-homogenized milk', a face pops up, a few inches from her own.

"Hey there!"

"Holy shit!" Santana yelps, jumping back in surprise. For a second Santana thinks she's looking at some kind of blonde milk angel, because fuck, this girl is beautiful, and she's struck speechless.

The girl laughs, her crystal blue eyes shining. "Sorry I scared you. My name's Brittany, I work here."

Santana shakes herself out of her daze, confused as to why this girl's behind a wall. "I'm Santana. Um, how'd you, like… get back there?"

"It's a refrigerated room, silly. The trucks unload the produce back here, so that the dairy products are kept chilled and we can put them directly on the shelves. Did you think these racks stocked themselves?"

"I guess I never really thought about it," says Santana. It seems obvious, now that Brittany explained it, and Santana figures this girl must think she's pretty dull.

Brittany smiles, a radiant, pearly-white smile, and Santana feels like she's in heaven. "Can I help you find something?"

"Yeah, I'm looking for almond milk."

"It's just to your right," Brittany says, but holds up her index finger. "Because I like you, I'll grab you one from the back of the shelf. It's a grocery store secret: the freshest products are always at the back."

Brittany disappears from the hole, but comes back just as quickly, holding out a quart of almond milk to Santana.

"Thanks, that was really nice of you," Santana says.

"I never pass up the opportunity to quart a pretty lady like yourself," Brittany replies, winking to Santana.

Despite standing in front of a refrigerator, Santana feels heat rise to her cheeks. This beautiful girl just flirted with her, even though Santana is in her hideous yellow raincoat, soaked to the bone, and probably looks like a loser. Too stunned to reply, Santana just stands there, eyes wide, and Brittany chuckles.

"Hope I see you soon, Santana."

Santana shakes her head, after Brittany disappears, and turns around to leave.

"Fucking hell," she mutters.

"Rachel, I'm heading down to Schuester's to get milk. Need anything?"

Looking up from her seat on their couch, Rachel smiles. "That's very considerate of you, Santana, but I'm all set. Although, I could've sworn there was a full quart in the fridge the other day."

"Nope, we're all out," Santana says quickly. Rachel's right, there was a full quart in the fridge yesterday, but Santana drank it. She drank the entire quart, all in one day. She can't even deny to herself why she did it, not when the answer is so obvious.

She can't get Brittany from the grocery store out of her head.

It's only been a day, one fucking day, since she met the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty, and Santana hasn't stopped thinking about her from the second she left the grocery store. It's embarrassing, really, how hung up she is on this girl after only one meeting, but Santana can't bring herself to care. Brittany is intoxicating, and Santana needs to see her again.

"I'll be back soon," Santana calls out to Rachel as she makes her way out the door.

It's a bright, clear day this time, and it goes a long way to strengthen Santana's optimism. Her walk down to Schuester's goes smoothly, with zero near-death experiences–a new record–and she doesn't even feel the urge to give Sue the finger when she enters the store.

"Hate to tell you, Lopez, but we just ran out of tortillas. Your Mexican taco fiesta will have to be put on hold," Sue says from her spot at the cash register.

"Good to see you, Sue," Santana says, flashing a quick smile to Sue's look of surprise, and she continues to the back of the store.

Santana can't fight the smile that escapes when the back wall comes into view. In the same gap, with her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun, and her elbow propped up on the shelf as she scribbles something on a clipboard, is Brittany. Santana feels her stomach flutter when she gets closer, suddenly a little nervous, because Brittany looks to be extremely focused.

As if she can sense her approaching, Brittany looks up, her bright eyes locking with Santana's, and she grins.

"Aw, no raincoat today? I liked it."

Santana's eyes widen. "Seriously?"

"Mhmm. Yellow's my favorite color," Brittany says, and beckons Santana closer with her index finger. "Also," she stage-whispers, "You looked really cute in it."

Santana inhales; she may need to reconsider her wardrobe preferences.

"So, back for more almond milk?" Brittany asks, and Santana shakes her head.

"Just regular milk this time."

Brittany nods, her eyes twinkling with humor. "A dairy good choice, I must say. Hold on a second, I'll grab you one from the back."

Just like before, Brittany disappears behind the shelf, and within a few seconds she returns, a quart of milk in her hand.

Smiling, Santana grasps the milk from Brittany's outstretched hand. "You're the best."

Brittany smirks. "I've been told I have desirable customer service skills."

Santana almost chokes on her intake of air, and Brittany laughs, a genuine smile returning to her lips.

"Enjoy the milk, Santana."

The next day, Santana buys strawberry milk.

"It's berry sweet, just like you," Brittany says.

The day after that, Santana tells Brittany she wants to try skim milk.

"That strawberry milk was a little too sweet," Santana admits.

"It's not for everyone," Brittany agrees, and brings Santana a quart of skim milk from the back. "I think you'll like this one, it's pure and skimple."

"Santana?"

Hearing Rachel call her name in the kitchen, Santana looks up from her laptop. "Yeah?"

There's a pause, and then Rachel speaks again, her voice questioning. "Why are there… five different kinds of milk in the fridge?"

Santana gulps. She's been so entranced by Brittany lately, she's been too careless in her milk-scapades. Attempting to drink a quart of milk each day was the worst fucking idea she ever had, because she just made herself sick, and still had too much left. Cursing herself for letting the milk pile up in the fridge, Santana takes a deep breath.

"Just getting some extra calcium. Gotta keep these bones strong, right?"

Rachel stays frozen for several moments, still facing the fridge, before spinning around to face Santana with her hands on her hips.

"Of course! I should have seen it earlier, she's totally your type," Rachel says, and points her finger at Santana. "This is about Brittany Pierce, isn't it?"

Santana gives Rachel an incredulous look. "You know Brittany?"

"Of course I know her, she's the General Manager of Schuester's. She's in charge of everything, so I talk to her every time I have requests for new vegan items they should carry."

"General Manager," Santana murmurs. She's never met anyone as young as herself with a position even close to that level. "I had no idea. God, she's incredible."

"It's not me you should be telling that to," Rachel says, gesturing to the door.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right," Santana says, jumping up to put on her shoes. "I'll be back in a bit, Berry."

Santana's not entirely sure what she wants to say to Brittany when she gets there, but she knows she has to say something, because she's running out of milk varieties to try. After walking through the Schuester's doors, she doesn't pause on her trek to the back of the store.

"I'm curious, Lopez, why are you called Latinos if you speak Spanish and not Latin?"

Santana hardly notices Sue's words, and doesn't spare the older woman a glance as she walks past the cash register.

When she gets to the back of the store, Santana doesn't see Brittany, and her chest tightens for a moment. She doesn't want to be that weirdo who yells into the dark stocking room, and she definitely doesn't want Brittany thinking she's that desperate.

Feeling a movement to her left, Santana looks over and smiles. Four slots down, the cartons of milk click and shift forward, and Santana knows that to be Brittany stocking the shelf.

"Hey Britt, it's me," Santana calls out, trying to hold back some of the excitement in her tone. The movement on the shelf pauses, and a few moments later Brittany's head pops up in the gap.

"Santana, hey!" Brittany says, her eyes shining, and Santana loses all train of thought. Brittany's hair is loosely braided this time, effortlessly curling around the side of her neck. Santana doesn't get how someone can look that beautiful all the damn time, even at work, but she's definitely not complaining.

"I heard you're the General Manager," Santana blurts out.

Brittany blushes, dropping her eyes, and Santana's surprised. Every time they've interacted, Brittany has been the definition of confidence, always having a witty quip at the ready.

"Yeah, everyone's really surprised to hear that, usually," Brittany says, propping her forearms on the shelf and wringing her hands. "Most people don't believe me at first, because I'm young and blonde, or whatever."

"I wasn't surprised at all," Santana says, and it's the truth. She was in awe, not in a disbelieving way, but in a How-Perfect-Can-This-Girl-Get way. "You know, like, everything there is to know about milk. And I've got a feeling you know as much about the rest of the products too."

Brittany shrugs, a hint of a smile returning to her face. "My parents owned a grocery store when I was younger, so I learned a lot."

"You're seriously amazing at your job, Brittany," Santana says, reaching out to grab Brittany's hand without thinking. Her brain short-circuits a little, with the feeling of Brittany's hand in her own, but she manages to keep talking. "This store is really impressive, and it's all run by you. That's something to be proud of."

Brittany grins, squeezing Santana's hand. Santana's breath catches at the action, and she knows Brittany notices, because Brittany smirks and strokes Santana's palm with her thumb.

"So, what kind of milk did you come for today?" Brittany asks.

Santana freezes; she didn't actually think about that.

"Um…" Santana looks at the shelves, trying to find a milk she hasn't tried yet. "Jersey milk?"

Brittany laughs, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know, San, it seems like you've been coming back for me, not the milk."

Santana doesn't know how to respond, because she's just been totally called out. "I, uh…"

"If you are, I'm not complaining," Brittany says, and leans in closer to Santana. "Seeing you is the best part of my day."

Santana looks at Brittany, eyes wide, and her lips turn upward into a smile. "It's the best part of my day too."

"Yeah?" Brittany asks, her voice softer, and Santana suddenly notices how close Brittany's face is to her own. Taking a deep breath, Santana brushes a loose strand of Brittany's hair behind her ear, leaving her fingers to rest against the edge of Brittany's cheek.

"Yeah," Santana whispers. Feeling Brittany lean in closer, Santana lets her eyes flutter shut, just before Brittany captures Santana's lips in her own.

Their lips move together in sync, and Santana can feel the chill of the milk shelves as Brittany pulls her closer.

When Santana pulls away, dizzy in the best way possible, she smiles, leaning her forehead against Brittany's.

"I have a confession to make," Santana says, and Brittany quirks an eyebrow. "I don't think I like milk very much."

Brittany laughs, pressing her lips to Santana's one more time. "You should come back tomorrow. Midday."

"Okay," Santana says, and Brittany smiles, squeezing Santana's hand, before disappearing into the stockroom.

Brittany isn't there.

Santana comes back at noon the next day, anxious to see Brittany again, because that kiss was fucking out of this world, but the stockroom is empty.

"Brittany, are you in there?" Santana calls through the gap for the third time, and for the third time she receives no response.

"Damnit," Santana mutters, and she runs a hand through her hair. She's worried, because if she knows Brittany at all, she wouldn't just not come, so she could be hurt, or sick, or in some kind of trouble, or–

"Hi."

"Fuck!" Santana yells, spinning around. "You've seriously got to stop scaring me like that."

Brittany laughs, and Santana can't stay mad, because it's Brittany, wearing jeans and a tank-top, standing on the same side of the shelf as Santana for the first time.

"Hey," Santana says, cracking a smile, and she walks up to Brittany. "You know, this is the first time I've seen your lower half."

Brittany winks. "That it is. Any complaints?"

Wrapping her arms around Brittany's neck, Santana smirks. "Definitely not."

Santana kisses Brittany long and hard, pulling her impossibly close, because she can't get enough of this girl, until they run out of air. After breaking away, Brittany grins at her, taking a deep breath.

"It's my day off, so I thought I'd take you to lunch," Brittany says, and Santana smiles.

"I'd love that."

Santana leans up one more time, intent on kissing Brittany again, when a jarring sound blasts through the store's speaker.

"Pornstars in isle nine, take your lust-driven affections out of my store before I'm forced to escort you out myself," Sue's voice demands.

Santana raises her eyebrows. "Hold up, your fill-in General Manager is Sue?"

Rolling her eyes, Brittany chuckles. "That decision was Will's, not mine."

"Well then, I guess we'd better get our 'lust-driven affections' to lunch."

Smiling, Brittany grabs Santana's hand, intertwining their fingers. "I can't wait."

Epilogue: Six Months Later

"Britt? Babe, where are you?" Santana calls out through her girlfriend's apartment. Brittany's car is in her parking spot, and all of the apartment lights are on, but Brittany is nowhere to be found.

Walking quickly toward the bedroom, worried that Brittany might have fallen asleep in the bathtub again–granted, the first time was after some seriously intense bath sex–Santana flings the door open, to be met with an empty room– except for an intriguing object on Brittany's bed.

"What the hell?" Santana mutters, walking over to the bed and picking up the empty milk carton. Flipping it over, she gasps as she reads the words scrawled on the side.

Santana,

I love you, and wanted to officially ask,

Will you moo-ve in with me?

-Brittany

"Oh my god," Santana breathes, reading and re-reading the message.

"Is that a yes?" a voice asks, and Santana turns around to see Brittany leaning against the doorframe.

"You're such a dork," Santana laughs, and takes a few long strides over to Brittany before grabbing the front of her girlfriend's shirt and kissing her. "Nothing would make me happier."

Hope you enjoyed!

If you didn't see, the official art for this fic is on my tumblr (snixxlixx). It's my favorite poster I've done so far, so check it out!

If you'd like, leave a review to let me know what you thought!

Until next time,

Dawson