Author's Note: Just a little something for Valentine's Day, that takes place in the Completions and Connections verse, less than two months after the end of the story.

February 14, 2016

Alexandria, Egypt—Eastern Standard Time + Seven Hours

Valentine's Day, it's allegedly the most romantic day of the year. Not that I'd know, or anything. My personal Valentine's Day experiences include a carnation in my locker and a make out session in the backseat of a Hyundai Elantra—do not advise—which ended in the girl puking up McDonald's French fries out the window when I was sixteen, a fire in the restaurant in the village that Artie took me to on our first Valentine's Day together, which led to a terrifying moment where I thought I'd have to suspend him, wheelchair and all, from the fire escape, until a bunch of guys carried him down the back stairs, and then several years of forgetting it existed as I traveled the world.

But this year was different, sort of. The world traveling was the same, obviously, but this year, I was with someone who I was actually wishing I could spend the pseudo-holiday with. This year, there was Santana, this totally sexy, totally amazing, probable love of my life woman, who I wanted to wine and dine and make love to until the sun came up, or one of us passed out from too many orgasms, whichever came first—the orgasms, probably the orgasms, we were both very good at that. The problem was, I hadn't anticipated the Santana factor when I'd made my travel plans for 2016, I hadn't anticipated being with her at all. But Christmas magic and all that had glorious plans for us, and here we were, a real actual couple, and there I was, approximately fifty-five thousand miles away, in Alexandria, Egypt.

Basically, it was the lamest of the lame, and I'd kind of woke up in my super-nice hotel with my Egyptian cotton sheets—probably not a luxury in actual Egypt—in the rawest kind of mood. I'd laid there for a good half hour feeling sulky, then imagining that Santana's head was on the pillow next to me, then that she was underneath me, and then I'd needed a cold shower to cool myself down, because it was way too early in New York to wake her up for a scissor Skype sesh. Okay, so Valentine's Day happened to fall during my very first trip since we'd started dating. That probably made it a billion times worse than if we'd already gotten used to just how shitty long distance was, after two months of staring a bed at least every other night, whatever, sue me. I just really missed her, and just wished I was there to give her overpriced flowers and chocolates, and go to some lame prix fixe dinner where we share a molten chocolate cake, and I feed her the strawberry. I think that's completely reasonable.

After I'd stayed in bed way too late, then gone out to take a bunch pictures of the port in the perfect morning light, I walked down to the beach so I could sulk some more. The city was beautiful, the Mediterranean was beautiful, but the real beauty I wanted to see was still sleeping back in New York, probably with my cat, who she insisted she didn't mind taking for me while I was away. The visual of it was way too much, Lord Tubbington and Santana curled up all warm in her bed, and I pouted a little bit, before I kicked off my shoes and walked down to the water's edge. Of course, there was a stick, and then I just couldn't help but drag it across the sand—I'm pretty sure everyone is actually three years old when there's the option to draw in wet sand—making spirals and letters, and finally a big B.P. hearts S.L., all with a giant heart around it. Gigantically sappy, I'm aware, especially when I snapped a picture before the water licked it away, and sent it to her in a text message, sue me.

FROM: MY GIRLFRIEND IS BETTER THAN YOURS [2/14/16 1:12:34PM]: You're cute.

FROM: MY GIRLFRIEND IS BETTER THAN YOURS [2/14/16 1:13:18PM]: [IMAGE 0085 SENT]

FROM: B. PIERCE [2/14/16 1:13:41PM]: You're cuter. Did you just make that out of my Cocoa Krispies?

FROM: MY GIRLFRIEND IS BETTER THAN YOURS [2/14/16 1:14:23PM]: Maybe. I was already eating them though.

FROM: B. PIERCE [2/14/16 1:14:53PM]: Ran out of Kashi, so you switched to kid cereal?

FROM: MY GIRLFRIEND IS BETTER THAN YOURS [2/14/16 1:15:17PM]: You know me so well.

FROM: MY GIRLFRIEND IS BETTER THAN YOURS [2/14/16 1:15:29PM]: You got to see my love heart AND my face. Where's my morning selfie, Valentine?

FROM: B. PIERCE [2/14/16 1:15:01PM]: [IMAGE 15346 SENT]

FROM: B. PIERCE [2/14/16 1:15:09PM]: Almost sent you a DIFFERENT kind of selfie when I woke up.

FROM: MY GIRLFRIEND IS BETTER THAN YOURS [2/14/16 1:15:38PM]: You could probably use some awesome ad slogan to makes joke about waking up to that.

FROM: MY GIRLFRIEND IS BETTER THAN YOURS [2/14/16 1:15:42PM]: (Also, hey there beautiful)

FROM: B. PIERCE [2/14/16 1:15:56PM]: The best part of waking up is...my cup?

FROM: MY GIRLFRIEND IS BETTER THAN YOURS [2/14/16 1:16:14PM]: ;,D I miss you, Britt.

FROM: B. PIERCE [2/14/16 1:16:53PM]: I miss you too, so much.

FROM: B. PIERCE [2/14/16 1:17:04PM]: Still Skype linner date at 1 your time?

FROM: MY GIRLFRIEND IS BETTER THAN YOURS [2/14/16 1:18:32PM]: Can't wait to have linner with you.

FROM: MY GIRLFRIEND IS BETTER THAN YOURS [2/14/16 1:18:49PM]: Been waiting all week.

FROM: B. PIERCE [2/14/16 1:20:22PM]: Me too. Gotta run and meet up with the girl who's taking me to visit that village. See your face later! :*

Before I stuck my phone back in my pocket to put my shoes back on, I changed the wallpaper on my lock screen to the picture she'd sent me, leaning over the S.L. hearts B.P. Back that she'd made out of Cocoa Krispies, glasses and bed messy hair and a purple sweatshirt that I knew was the one that I'd accidentally on purpose left there on my last night in the States. It was a long drive in a really old car with Anna, the ex-Al Jazeera photographer turned tour guide from London who'd agreed to take me two hours up to a village on the Euphrates so I could take pictures on the way that even with modern technology, they still used the river in the way people had been for thousands of years. Personally, I thought it was really cool, watching a guy on a cellphone operate a drawbridge, but maybe that's just me.

Anyway, I'd taken about nine rolls of pictures, while Anna did whatever it was that she'd had to do in the village, and when I felt like I was done just before sundown, I checked my watch kind of anxiously, hoping I'd have time to get back, order room service, and change into the way-too-sexy-for-being-on-the-other-side-of-the-world-from-my-girlfriend lingerie that I'd planned to wear for our "linner" date—lunch for her, late dinner for me. Really, for me, it would have been entirely likely that we got a flat tire, or a bear attacked the car or something on the way back to Alexandria, but, luckily for me, I made it back in one piece just after seven, and had plenty of time to look super sexy to talk to Santana. I lit candles, I ordered room service, I did my hair like I was actually leaving my hotel room, and at 7:59, when Santana's picture pops up on the computer screen, I actually had to take deep breaths to calm myself down.

"So, funny thing." Santana's face was right up in the camera when I answered, and I just wanted to lean into the computer screen and kiss her. "Someone sent me a huge bouquet of lilies today, and someone sneakily forgot to sign a card."

"Hmm, I have no idea what you're talking about." I couldn't even bite back my smile as she backed away to reveal the flowers, that I maybe kind of sort of went overboard on. "Looks like you've got some kind of secret admirer. I wonder if she's hot."

"She's probably really hot, and kind of the cutest." So I totally blushed from head to toe at that. Maybe someday I would have a physical reaction to ever compliment she gave me. Maybe. "She also apparently knows how much I love Jacque Torres chocolates. Maybe she's a stalker."

"Have you checked your computer?"

"Huh?" Her eyebrow raise was kind of my favorite. Okay, so one of my hundred favorites, whatever. Then I realized that kind of sounded stakerish. "Babe, you're ridiculous."

"There's a hidden folder on your computer, search infinite playlist." I could tell she shrunk my Skype window, and I grinned like an idiot when it popped up. "Do you like the cover?"

"Why are you not here so I can kiss you all over?" She groaned, then I groaned, because, well, Santana kissing me all over and stuff. "Disco Duck though, Britt. I was so drunk that night."

"Doesn't mean it won't make me think of you forever. There are real songs too, but I had to put the funny ones first."

"Come to My Window. That makes you think of me?"

"Yeah, I mean..." I half shrugged. Was it weird that I already thought about making lady-babies with her, and whenever that song came on, I was just, like, a giant ball of feels about my lady? "I'll be home soon, you know?"

"You're really too much. I don't know even know how to handle you. I'm putting this whole thing on my iPod right now. I love you a lot, Britt."

"I love you a lot too. Also, I haven't told you how pretty you look today."

"You look beautiful, Britt, and I'm so, so happy I'm spending Valentine's Day with you, even through a computer screen." We did this goofy, smile creepily at each other without speaking thing that we did a lot since I'd been gone—also maybe in bed before I'd left too. "So, go in the side pocket of your duffle bag."

"You mean, where there's a box that says Do Not Open Until Valentine's Day?"

"You already found it?"

"It's not exactly an invisible box." I laughed at the feigned look of horror on her face, and strutted across the room.

"I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave."

"That sounds like the kind if bad line that I would use."

"That is a bad line you have used." I turned around to watch her shake her head, big, gorgeous freaking smile on her face. It was fine, I was fine...ish. "I guess you're rubbing off on me."

"Well...if we're rubbing off on each other, then I'll go ahead and say wanky."

"Excellent use of my favorite word." She nodded her approval, and I finally pulled the box out, going back to sit on the edge of the bed. "Go ahead, open it."

I was kind of weird about getting gifts, probably mostly because of that verbal diarrhea thing. I'd probably embarrassed my parents more times than I could count when I was a kid. I hadn't meant to do it, I really wasn't a jerk or anything, I'd just...let it slip that my Aunt Frances had maybe bought me the exact same ugly—and not ironically so—Christmas sweater three years in a row. You know, stuff like that. I wasn't expecting Santana's gift to be anything, and honestly, if it was, I totally would have still loved it, but like...it was just a weird feeling I got in my stomach whenever I opened gifts.

Anyway, I was being dumb, and Santana was just kind of looking at me expectantly through the screen. So I tore into it, my eyes widening probably like I was a cartoon character when the paper was removed, and through the plastic, I could see a yellow heart Treasure Troll. So okay, in case you didn't know by now, I'm super into 90's memorabilia. What I'm sure you didn't know, is that when was seven, I saved every single Treasure Troll in their original box, because I thought they were the coolest thing to ever happen. Crazy hair? Jewels in their belly buttons? Come on. Anyway, the rest of them are still on a shelf above my desk, but in the biggest fight Lord Tubbington and I ever had, he ate through the box of the yellow one—my favorite, I'll have you know—and gnawed off half his hair. Disaster. I'd searched and searched, and I'd found every color but the yellow, and then...

"Santana Lopez, how did you even...?"

"Mercedes is good like that." She shrugged, looking down all cute and bashful, and really, why couldn't I just climb through the damn computer screen at that moment. "Her cousin owns a vintage shop, she called her, she had some contacts, and bam! Yellow troll!"

"Bam, huh?" I giggled, still ridiculously amazed by this Troll doll, like, even more amazed than I was by the Cheesosaurus Rex shirt I slept in every night.

"I watch a lot of late night cooking shows. I didn't even know Emeril still had a show until the other day, but yeah, bam, found her."

"This is the best thing anyone has ever given me. Like seriously, Santana, I didn't even think I could love you more than I already did, but yup, totally do."

"You're really cute, babe."

"Nope, that's you." I touched my hand to the screen, and then sighed. "I miss you."

"I'm right here." She was trying to be tough, but she was totally blinking her eyes like I was to keep from getting all teary and ridiculous.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do. But soon, right?"

"Soon. And tomorrow I'm totally going to FaceTime Lord Tubbington, and tell him that he can thank you for me totally and completely forgiving him."

"I accept thank you gifts in the form of him not pouncing on me and digging his claws into my bare ass while I'm going down on you on the couch. You hear that Tubbs?" She yelled out to the other room. "I'm sure you're sleeping one of your twenty-three hours a day in there."

"I will also tell him that you haven't forgiven him yet, in case he didn't hear you." I laughed, then she laughed, and then there was a knock on the door to my room. "Looks like linner's here!"

"Perfect, I'll grab mine."

I let the guy wheel the room service cart into my room, giving him an awkward sort of thank you in Arabic as he went out of his way to set it up for me on the desk. Santana was laughing through the computer, and once he'd left, and I grabbed the plate and my wine glass so I could sit cross-legged on the bed with it, I rolled my eyes at her.

"I'm glad you find my inability to talk to other human beings hilarious."

"I just think you're really cute." She shrugged, taking a sip of her white wine.

"Starting without me?" I gasped, lifting my own glass of red. "How rude!"

"Your Stephanie Tanner impression is even more ridiculous than you sending me gifs of her in your text messages."

"Have I mentioned I love the nineties?"

"It may or may not have come up in conversation before, can't remember." Santana pointedly avoided taking another sip of her wine, and I rolled my eyes at her again. "I'm sorry. It's Sunday, I'm not working tomorrow, and I may have opened this bottle at eleven-thirty."

"Living it up, apparently."

"That's the only way to do it. But I'm sorry, really, I'll wait if you wanted a Valentine's Day toast."

"I don't, actually. I just love you a lot, and I'm really, really happy to be spending tonight with you, even if we're approximately twelve billion miles apart."

"Twelve billion, huh?" Her cute eyebrow arch made my skin flush and she pressed her tongue through her teeth—my weakness, my actual weakness, like if I were a superhero, a villain could send Santana to just follow me around and stick her tongue between her—anyway. "I love you a lot too, and as much as I really wish you were here, I'm so glad that even when you're across the world, you're still the biggest part of my life. Happy Valentine's Day, you."

"Alright, now I'm about to drink this entire bottle so I don't start crying."

"Just don't pass out on me, okay?"

"Oh, don't worry, I won't. Our night-slash-day is definitely just starting."