Author's Note: This is the final chapter of NOHCK. Thank you for reading!

…

Brittany's the first one to wake up on Saturday morning. She always likes to guess what time it is based on how her body feels and how strong the sunlight seems. Today she flutters her eyes in the morning light and guesses that it's about 9:45. She's pretty sure she's right, but she'll wait to check the clock on her nightstand until she's had a few more minutes of just lying here with Santana. She likes to feel suspended in time—it reminds her of dancing, of leaping across the stage and enjoying the incredible lightness before she lands and reorients herself in the world.

Sometimes, when she first wakes up but hasn't opened her eyes yet, she likes to make herself wait before looking over at Santana. She draws it out, takes her in time in rolling over or opening her eyes to see what's before her. Sometimes she imagines what Santana will look like—dark hair a mess on the pillow, mouth slightly open, arm curved on the sheets; sometimes she makes bets with herself on whether Santana's sleeping on her side or on her stomach (she almost never sleeps on her back). Mostly she just savors the sweet anticipation of waking up to her favorite person in the world.

Today she opens her eyes and rolls to her left, and there's Santana: lying on her stomach with her face nestled into her arm. She's breathing quietly and Brittany can see her back rising and falling in time with her breaths. One of Santana's legs is below the sheets and the other is on top of the duvet, practically hanging off the bed. Brittany smiles because Santana always does that: she can never decide whether her feet feel warm or cold, so she compromises and kicks one foot out from the sheets.

Santana's eyebrows are knit together, as if in worry. Brittany hopes so much that she's not having a bad dream, that she's not feeling the anxieties of waking life in her sleep. Brittany snuggles close but doesn't want to wake Santana, so she closes her eyes and dozes. She imagines a future where they won't have to worry about the people at McKinley High School or the approval of Santana's parents.

Some time later, Santana's breathing changes. Brittany feels her stir and stretch, so she opens her eyes to watch Santana wake up. She loves to watch that—loves to watch as Santana's eyelids twitch for a few seconds before pulling back to reveal her lovely dark eyes.

"Hey," Brittany says.

Santana stretches and lets out a small groan. "Hi."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Mmhmm." Santana reaches for Brittany's hand and closes her eyes again. "Did you?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

Brittany sweeps Santana's hair back from her face. "What do you want to do today? Anything special?"

Santana laughs through her nose. "You are always so excited to start the day," she says.

"Duh," says Brittany. "So many new adventures." She kisses Santana's forehead. "We should do something really fun."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Anything you want."

Santana looks sleepily at her. "Can we just…be lazy right now? I just want to lie in bed and snuggle with you."

Brittany grins big. "Yeah?"

Santana grins too, though hers is shy. "Yeah."

"You are such a softie," Brittany teases. She pulls Santana close and wraps an arm around her. "Like a fluffy little bunny rabbit—or a marshmallow."

Santana giggles into Brittany's chest. "You can't make fun of me right now, Britt. I'm going through a traumatic experience, remember?"

"Santana, spilling your slushie in my car was not as traumatic as you're making it out to be," Brittany deadpans.

Santana giggles again and kisses Brittany's collarbone. They fall into a happy quietness: Brittany holding Santana and Santana breathing into Brittany's skin.

After a few minutes of silence, when Santana's breathing starts to change, Brittany asks, "Are you falling back to sleep?"

"No," says Santana, though the hitch in her voice gives away that she was. "Will you scratch my back?"

"Sure."

Santana rolls onto her side and Brittany skates her nails across Santana's back. She zigzags, she loops, she writes words, she tickles every so often—and Santana relaxes into her touch. When Brittany's arm starts to get tired, she closes the gap between their bodies and drapes her arm across Santana's waist. Santana takes her hand and holds it over her stomach.

They doze for a while before Brittany starts to get restless. She shifts her body and stretches her legs. Santana makes a small noise of amusement, like she knows how impatient Brittany's getting. Brittany can't help it: her body needs to move. She flexes her arms, stretches her neck, and Santana jokes, "Calm yourself, antsy pants. What, are you bored of cuddling with me?"

Brittany raises herself up on an elbow and kisses Santana's face. "You know how I get. I'm going to go make breakfast—or see if my mom made breakfast." She smiles. "Come down soon?"

Santana nods. Brittany bounds out of bed, pulls on a pair of boxer shorts, and heads to the door before Santana calls, "Wait."

"What?"

Santana looks shyly at her. "Come here."

Brittany doubles back to the bed. "What's up?"

Santana sits up and kisses Brittany full on the mouth.

"Okay, now you can go," she says.

Brittany raises her eyebrows questioningly.

Santana shrugs. "I hadn't kissed you yet today," she explains.

Brittany's face breaks out into a huge grin. "Okay, you have to stop this."

"Stop what?"

"Being so cute all the time. It's—like—I don't even know what to do with it."

Santana bites her lip and looks all the more adorable, so Brittany does the only thing she can do: she climbs onto the bed, leans down over Santana, and kisses her once, twice, a dozen times.

…

"Come on, it'll be fun."

"No."

"San."

"No, Britt."

Brittany frowns. "But they really want to come see you! You wouldn't let them yesterday…."

"Why do they want to come so badly?"

"Because they're your friends and they're worried about you!"

Santana stares contemptuously at her sandwich. "They just want to see how bad the damage is."

Brittany leans forward across the table. "Santana," she says in a stern tone. She waits for Santana to look at her. "I love you, but you're being a total butt-face right now."

Santana's scowl morphs slowly into a smile. "A butt-face, Britt? Really?"

Brittany laughs. "Yes." She kicks Santana's foot under the table. "Come on."

Santana rests her head in her hand and picks at the chips on her plate. "Fine," she mumbles. "Tell Quinn they can come in like, an hour."

"Perfect."

"You have way too much power over me."

"Only in bed, baby," Brittany teases.

Santana flicks a chip at her.

…

The doorbell rings around two o'clock. Brittany kisses the frown off Santana's face before she goes to answer it. Quinn's standing there with Mercedes and Tina flanking her on either side.

Brittany beams at them and invites them in.

Santana looks around as they all come into the family room. They smile tentatively at her and wave hi. She smiles tightly.

"Hey, Santana," says Mercedes. "Good to see you looking better."

"Let's go up to my room," says Brittany. "It'll be quieter up there."

"It's quiet in here," says Tina.

"But you never know who's listening. My cats could be undercover spies—actually sometimes I think they were part of Wiki Leaks."

Santana's glad that Brittany made the bed; otherwise she might feel weird about all of them sitting on it now. They sit in a loose circle and chat about school, and Santana actually feels like maybe they are her friends. She listens quietly, bumping knees with Brittany, waiting for the conversation to turn to her like she knows it eventually has to.

Quinn's the one who voices the reason they're there.

"We've been worried about you," she tells Santana, and Santana catches a glimpse of the old Quinn—the one who used to be her good friend.

"Were you sick yesterday?" Mercedes asks her.

Santana fidgets with the hem of her sweater and looks at Brittany. Brittany's face doesn't hold any expectations: she's just waiting to see how Santana wants to handle this one.

"I was hiding," Santana confesses. "I was afraid to deal with—everything."

They look at her like she's naked. She supposes she is.

"What Finn did was pretty messed up," Quinn says quietly.

"Even Rachel's mad at him," Tina says.

Santana nods. "Does—everyone know?"

"Pretty much everyone in New Directions does," Mercedes answers gently. "But nobody's had anything bad to say about it."

"I don't think we were entirely surprised," Quinn says with a small smile.

"What do you mean?"

"Please," says Mercedes. Her eyes roam over Santana and Brittany. "We've been watching you guys for two years now."

Brittany laughs and nudges Santana. "You can't hide how much you want me," she teases.

Santana smiles at her. "I guess I'm not very subtle."

"So you guys are together?" Tina asks.

They look at each other: Brittany flashes her big goofy grin and Santana's mouth curls into a giddy smile.

"Yeah," says Santana.

"And you thought The TroubleTones wouldn't have any love connections," Quinn says to Mercedes.

"Do your parents know?" Tina asks.

"Ha," says Santana. "No. But they will soon because of that campaign ad. That's why I've been so—you know."

"Are they going to be upset?"

Santana looks to Brittany to answer for her.

"Santana's parents are kind of…resistant," Brittany says delicately. "It's going to be hard."

"We'll have your back," says Mercedes.

"Definitely," says Tina.

"Thanks," Santana tells them, and she's surprised to find that she means it.

…

Brittany decides they're getting dinner and a movie that night, just the two of them.

"Go through your clothes basket," she says, "and find something cute."

"Is this a date?" Santana asks.

Brittany blinks at her. "Isn't everything we do together a date?"

Santana's stomach does flips. She ducks into Brittany's closet and sorts through her clothes basket, and as she pulls out shirt after shirt, she can't stop grinning like an idiot.

…

Brittany drives them to a hole-in-the-wall Asian restaurant on the opposite side of town. Santana peers out the car window and frowns. "Britt, what—? BreadStiX wouldn't cut it tonight?"

"I wanted to try something different," Brittany says as she turns off the ignition. "Tina recommended it. She said nobody from McKinley comes here, so we won't have to worry about being seen."

"Being seen?"

"Yeah. Like, we can have some privacy."

Santana feels panic in her chest. "Britt…is this…I mean, are you aiming for an intimate romantic dinner or something?"

Brittany stares at her. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not ready for the big romantic dinner yet! I can't just, like, waltz into a restaurant and kiss you across the table and be all Lady and the Tramp with you!"

"Okay well—if you wanted to play Lady and the Tramp, we'd have to be at an Italian restaurant," Brittany says. "Can you please trust me a little bit? I'm not trying to push you out of the closet and make you kiss me in public. I just want to have dinner with you." She exhales quickly and looks at the steering wheel. "And yes, I did purposely pick a restaurant where nobody would know us, but that was so you would feel comfortable in case you wanted to hold hands again or anything. And also because I was sick of BreadStiX and I was craving egg rolls."

Santana wrings her hands together. She tries to think of something to say, but her apology gets stuck in her throat.

Brittany places a calm hand over her fidgeting fingers. "Santana—I know you're scared, but that doesn't mean we're going to hide from the world."

Santana inhales deeply and nods. "Sorry," she mutters.

"It's okay," Brittany says.

They sit in silence for a moment, and then Santana says, "So…can we share these egg rolls?"

Brittany smiles. "Duh."

…

It's funny, Santana thinks, that her second official dinner date with Brittany feels so normal and yet so magical at the same time. They're doing the things they've always done—stealing food off of each other's plates, drinking from each other's water glasses when the waiter doesn't fill them up fast enough—but it means so much more to her now. She loves that she can look across the table at Brittany for no reason at all, whenever she wants to, and for as long as she wants to.

"You keep staring at me," Brittany says.

"Yep," Santana replies. "Want to know why?"

Brittany grins. "Why?"

"Because you're really, really cute."

…

When they're almost finished eating, Brittany looks up from her sweet and sour chicken and says, "I have an idea I want to talk to you about."

"For the campaign?" Santana asks.

"No. For us."

Us. The word rings in Santana's brain like it's brand new.

"Okay, what?"

"You're awesome, and I'm so proud of you for how far you've come since last year," Brittany says. She looks into Santana's eyes. "So proud. But I know a lot of this stuff has sucked and is gonna continue to suck."

Santana squints at her, wondering where she's going with this conversation.

"I want to go on a trip after graduation," Brittany announces. "Just you and me to a place where nobody knows us and we can get away from all this stuff."

"Like where?"

"Maybe somewhere in the Caribbean? Mexico? Somewhere with a beach so we can sleep with the door open and hear the ocean at night."

Santana grins. "So—like a romantic getaway."

"Yes. Super romantic. We can get couples massages and take walks on the beach and spend a whole day just having sex in the hotel room and ordering room service when we get hungry."

Santana laughs hard at that, but she starts to feel an oncoming excitement in her belly, like maybe they will do that and maybe they're totally acting like a young couple in love right now.

"Brittany," she says affectionately—and then, fuck it, her hand's reaching across the table and taking hold of Brittany's, and she just lets their hands rest there, on top of the table, while she leans her head into her other hand and says, "That's amazing. You're amazing. We're definitely doing that."

"Really?"

"Really."

…

They drive to a theater on the same side of town as the restaurant. Brittany insists on paying for their tickets ("I asked you on this date, San—isn't that how it works?"); Santana insists on stopping at concessions to buy a box of Sour Patch Kids for Brittany and a frozen Coke for them to share.

Santana leads the way into their theater and starts to scoot into one of the middle rows, but Brittany tugs on her elbow and pulls her further up the auditorium.

"Where are you going?" Santana asks.

Brittany just winks at her and leads her to the very top row. When Santana sits down next to her, Brittany whispers, "You know this is where you're supposed to sit if you plan on making out with someone."

"Do you plan on making out with me?"

Brittany glances around and sees that no one is looking at them. She kisses Santana's earlobe and husks, "Yes."

Heat rushes to Santana's face; her breath catches in her lungs.

"But first…" says Brittany, pulling away from her and grinning, "I want to eat my candy."

…

When Brittany leans in to kiss her fifteen minutes into the movie, Santana giggles.

"You taste super tangy."

Brittany laughs through her nose. "The Sour Patch Kids," she says.

"It's making my lips tingle," Santana whispers.

They kiss and kiss and kiss; they make out quietly but passionately in the darkness of the theater. Brittany places a hand over Santana's jaw line to help steady their kisses; Santana places a hand on Brittany's knee to help intensify them. Their torsos rock to and fro, like a boat on the sea, and Santana wants Brittany so badly that it hurts.

"Britt, I…." she tries hard to control her breathing. "I can't handle this right now."

"I want you so bad," Brittany whispers in her ear. She sucks at Santana's neck and trails a hand up her thigh. Santana seizes it and pulls away.

"Britt—seriously," Santana pants. "I don't have enough self-control for this."

"Do you want to leave?"

Santana takes deep breaths to calm her body. "No," she says after a minute. "Those tickets weren't cheap and I actually want to see this movie. Plus…I don't want to ruin our date."

Brittany laughs. "That would hardly be ruining it…."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know." Brittany sits back in her chair and kicks her feet up on the seat in front of her. She pops another Sour Patch Kid in her mouth. "Oh, but San?"

"Yeah?"

Brittany yawns exaggeratedly. "Oh man, I'm so tired all of a sudden," she says with fake seriousness. "I think I need to stretch…." She spreads her arms out and settles the left one around Santana's shoulders. "Hmm. Look at that."

Santana laughs and burrows into Brittany's side. "You're a goof."

"Santana, don't make fun of me, that was really nerve-wracking."

"I'm sure, BrittBritt." She kisses Brittany sweetly. "Maybe you should have tried the one that's like, 'Hey, let's count shoulders—1, 2, 3, 4.'"

Brittany laughs. "That's a good one. I'll have to ask around for some more—I could probably just ask those middle-school boys down there."

"Conference with them after the movie."

"Definitely."

They kiss each other's lips – the first time to say You're cute, the second time to say But really, just so cute – and finally turn their attention to the movie.

…

Santana knew they'd go back to her house – she knew without even having to think about it – but still she asks, "Why aren't we going back to your place?"

Brittany looks over at her as she drives. "You need to go home, baby. You can't avoid it forever."

Santana sighs. "I know."

"It'll be better to face it tonight, when I can stay with you." She squeezes Santana's hand.

Santana's parents are already in bed when they get home. Santana feels that slight pang she always gets when it seems like her parents don't give a damn about where she is or what she's doing.

"Did they know you'd be home tonight?" Brittany asks.

Santana shrugs like she doesn't care. "I haven't talked to them since yesterday."

Brittany hugs her and kisses her hair. "Let's go to bed," she says softly. "I want to make love to you."

…

Brittany undresses her like she did on Thursday night – so gently, so tenderly – but this time, her movements are laced with a reverence that makes Santana feel strong. "You are so beautiful," Brittany whispers as she kisses Santana's skin. "My beautiful, beautiful girl."

Santana undresses her in kind. She goes slowly, savoring each part of Brittany's body: her shoulders, her breasts, her hipbones. She loves her, loves every single part of this girl who lights her life.

They kiss each other hard—not desperately, not feverishly, but surely and confidently; and Santana thinks that even though her life might be falling apart, even though her identity might be unraveling at the seams, this—this— is growing like the sun in the morning sky, big and bright, stopping for nothing.

Brittany makes love to her. She makes love to Brittany. They make love and breathe love and are absolutely in love.

The coming weeks are going to be hard, but at the moment, Santana doesn't care. Not when Brittany's here with her, holding her, reminding her why it's all worth it.

"You are the most amazing thing I know," Brittany whispers.

Santana kisses her, kisses her, kisses her and says, "I love you—I love you—I've always, always loved you."

…