Cyclone Hips. Trembling Lips

Emily grinned back at Santana, her eyes raking over the body moving perfectly in front of her before she remembered she had to respond. “No, baby. I’d never do such a thing,” she responded innocently as Santana made her way onto the bed. It’s not like Emily actually thought she’d ever win this battle, but if she did manage to distract her girlfriend long enough she’d be able to find somewhere to store it, or destroy it, before she ever got the cover opened. “I used foreplay to get your sexy self into bed,” she said with a shrug. 

Emily’s eyes narrowed when Santana moved it away from her again. She lightly ran her finger tips along the back of the girl’s neck as she pulled her hair to the side. Leaning in, she placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to her neck, just above her pulse point. “You could stop packing and join my sexy ass back in bed,” she hummed, her good arm travelling down Santana’s side to rest firmly on her hip, making sure to allow her fingers to graze some skin. 

Her eyes, however, were trained on the pink binder, which she was now cursing herself for leaving out in the open. Or keeping. Or making to begin with. This was never a binder Santana was supposed to find, and Emily wasn’t sure if it would prompt a complete freak out or endless mockery. 

Santana cleared her throat and opened her eyes to find that Emily's attention was intensely focused on the binder.  "You ass," Santana declared before letting out a low mewl as Emily bit down on her neck.  The loving assault on her sensitive skin caused Santana's arm to relax enough for Emily to make her move. The binder was stolen and Emily dashed back to the bed faster than Santana could react. 

Emily was propped up in bed, what had to be at least eight pillows surrounding her in a makeshift chair and armrest Santana had created after they woke up. She flipped through a few more cable channels before switching back to her DVR for more Criminal Minds. She groaned as she tried to settle back into the pillows more, but her eyes wandered around the apartment before they settled on her girlfriend.

Santana was standing at a bookshelf about fifteen feet away, most likely looking through for any duplicates in books or DVDs that they could get rid of before moving into a new place, whenever they managed to find one that the two could agree upon. Then Santana’s hand drifted farther to the edge, going over a few textbooks that she knew she would still reference from time to time and stopping at an unmarked, pink binder.

"You've seen this episode like 20 times, babe.  Dude kills girl, girl's sister poses as dead girl and comes back to scare the shit outta killer dude," she summarized as Emily settled on an episode of Criminal Minds.  How Emily could watch the same episodes over and over, Santana would never understand.  But Emily seemed content in re-watching the episode.  That was until Santana's fingers ghosted over the light pink binding of an unfamiliar folder.

Santana could hear the slight alarm in Emily's voice.  She had unintentionally stumbled upon something Emily desperately wanted to hide. 

"Well we should probably file them somewhere.  Or get them framed if it's your diploma," Santana offered, knowing full well that Emily was lying through her teeth. 

She had her back turned to the bed, her attention focused on the hefty binder in her hand.  So when Emily reached around her to grab the book, Santana shifted and held it away from Emily's grasp. 

It almost seemed as though nothing had changed between the two even after all those years, but on closer inspection it was clear that they had both changed and grown. There was even more appreciation and desire for the other than their ever had been - “Absence makes the heart grow fonder” had a strong case with these two. They had both grown, they had both matured, and they had both learned what it was like without the other.

Emily’s eyes stayed glued to Santana, using her as a distraction to the pain in her shoulder that seemed to radiate down her arm. It was worth it for no pain meds; this way she had control over which thoughts became vocalized. She watched every move, every muscle that tightened or relaxed, even if it’s just a smile. This woman was graceful, even just the smallest reflexes. Emily was transfixed on the woman. 

Santana reached forward, cupping Emily's neck and stroking her thumb just behind Emily's ear.  It had always been a pseudo pressure point for Emily.  During finals, when Emily chose studying over sleep and worked herself up into a ball of anxiety, Santana would slip in behind her and rub her neck.  It was a calming effect; one that relaxed Emily enough to settle.  Like every time before, stroking the sensitive spot proved victorious and Emily hummed in satisfaction.

________________________________________________________

It was freshman year. They had only been dating a few months, maybe six. They were out with a group, Spencer had come into town on her spring break and just about everyone was there, which was unusual. Quinn, Aria, Ezra, Hanna, Caleb, and Spencer. And Santana was being her usual self, a guard up and acting like the bad ass she tried to be. Emily knew that some of the girls were concerned about her choice of women, but then there was that look. Santana had looked at her and Emily saw straight through the walls in one look. Even the girls had commented on it.

Then, later that night, they went to the roof of Bentley Hall and stayed there for the majority of the night, cuddling, talking, and star gazing. And there was a moment when Emily looked over a sleepy Santana who was spread out on her back, Emily curled into her side and her head resting on her chest. She wasn’t listening to what Santana was saying about the stars or the origin or the back story of them. She noticed how when their breaths were timed to each other’s, she felt her own heart flutter each time she inhaled and the air was laced with Santana’s scent. Or how the undertones of Santana’s voice resonated in her chest and Emily felt like she could learn whatever she desired about the other girl if she just stayed where she was.

Partway through the night, Emily got a text from Hanna:

We were so wrong. The way that girl looks at you… Not to mention the way you look at her. We’ve never seen you this happy.

Emily, of course, hadn’t read it until she had dragged herself back to her dorm as the sun was coming up. But that text, that night, solidified the amazingly horrifying realization. Emily Fields had fallen in love with Santana Lopez. Maybe it wasn’t that night, but that was when she realized.

_________________________________________________________

"I love you, Tanny. And I can’t believe you didn’t shut me up last night," she teased. "David told me everything I said. He also told me you were pretty upset with him. Baby, it wasn’t his fault. I’m the fastest person on the force. No one can keep up with me." Emily’s eyes were searching Santana’s. "But I’m okay. And I’m here. And I love you and we have a month and a half of me not working and just… being us? Like when we went to Florida only longer. And no beach." 

"I'm still pissed at him though," she grumbled, leaning over the bed to place a soft kiss to Emily's lips. 

If Santana didn't have the Lopez willpower, she would have proposed in the hospital room.  But beeping monitors and stiff sheets didn't quite set the mood she was looking for.  Instead, Santana resolved to holding onto the ring until the two of them could be at home.  Their home.  Where they belonged all along.

Emily had awoken that morning without the familiar warmth curled against her. Even through the pain med haze, she was able to remember that yes, she had fallen asleep next to Santana the night before. What had shocked her when she opened her eyes was the fact that she was not in Santana’s bedroom or her own apartment, and it took about thirty seconds for Emily to finally realize that she was in the hospital and why.

She felt numb. Almost as though she was floating, but she attributed that to the IV that she was fairly certain was not just pumping fluids through her. Looking over, Emily spotted a hand written note on old paper. She reached over, trying not to notice how she didn’t think it was her arm doing the reaching, and took the paper. It was slippery between her fingers as she squinted, trying to make out what it said.

Emmy, I just went home to change and shower, and make sure that Puck didn’t burn the place down last night. Yes, I’ll grab some of your things. XO “Tannyboo” - I’ll let the guys explain that one to you. PS - Doesn’t look like you kept all the nudes locked up.

Emily’s eyes narrowed at the ‘Tannyboo’ scrawled on the sheet, thoroughly confused. Santana pretended to hate it when Emily called her Tanny, and would never in her right mind even try calling the girl something like Tannyboo. She sighed, shaking it off and turning the paper over, the last line of the note intriguing her. The other side of the paper revealed a photo. One that Emily had completely forgotten about. 

It was from their spring break trip to Florida during their junior year. They went with Hanna, Caleb, Spencer, Quinn, Aria, and whatever guy was following Aria at the time. After very little conversation, they had all decided on separate rooms, regardless of the cost. Emily and Santana got one with a decent view, so when Emily had opened the patio door to their fifth floor room and the couple locked themselves in the room for the night, no one was surprised. This particular photo was one that was taken on the patio, Santana had a sheet wrapped around her body and Emily had snuck up behind her. She wrapped her arms around her waist and snapped a picture of Emily kissing Santana’s cheek from behind. It was mostly candid, Santana in a state of shock and pure joy and Emily laughing and grinning against Santana’s cheek. It was one of her favorite photos, one that she lost after leaving. 

Emily was pulled out of her reminiscing when a nurse entered her room, obviously shocked to find Emily awake. "Officer Fields, I was just coming in to check on you. How are you feeling?" she asked, looking at a chart and various monitors. Emily looked up from the photo and took a deep breath. “Can you… can you lower the meds? I just… I hate this… floaty feeling. And I wanna go home to my girlfriend. I don’t need to be in here much longer, do I?” 

The nurse looked her over, trying to make out her words from the mumbled request. She finally nodded. "Let me find your doctor. Oh. And you and your girlfriend are really cute together.” With that, the woman was gone, only to be replaced by the one from the night before. After much convincing from Emily, the surgeon seriously lowered Emily’s medications, making her promise to call for a doctor if she’s in too much pain. 

A few hours later, Emily woke up again, feeling much more like herself. She woke up to Karofsky sitting in the room, asleep in the chair. “You better not be moping by my bedside, Davey,” she quipped, causing him to stir and smirk. “Hey. That’s more like you than the girl who was lying here last night,” he said, sitting up. He recounted the night before, and left about an hour later, leaving Emily a blushing mess. 

She was in pain, of course she was. But she was still on some morphine, and Emily was used to pain. At least now she wasn’t high. Many officers came and went throughout the day, bringing balloons or flowers or other classic items. It was a little after 3PM, or so the clock next to her read. She was watching some horrible daytime television when a doctor came in, again. "How’s your pain level?" the young man asked. He seemed nervous. He reminded her of an intern on Grey’s Anatomy. A few had come through earlier, talking about her and her surgery. She was too high then to actually piece it together. “I was shot in the arm, how do you think the pain is?” she said sarcastically. "Oh. Well, Officer Fields, we can up your medication. Your chart says you’re quite low." Emily shook her head. ”No, I asked for it lower. I want to go home. Come on, all you guys are doing right now is giving me morphine and not letting me move. I can do that at home, in bed, with my girlfriend. Let me go home.” 

The kid looked nervous, looking around. "I’ll talk to the attending. I can’t really do anything." With that, he left, and Emily turned back to whatever soap she was watching. A half hour later, the attending came in. "Giving my kids a hard time, are we, Officer?" he asked, cocking a teasing eyebrow. "Seems like every cop we get in here is always itching to get back out." Emily laughed with him. “We’re workaholics just like you surgeons, Doctor,” she said. “Now please, tell me that I can go home?” He sighed, looking at the chart. "With a gun shot wound, we’d like to keep you here a bit longer. How’s this? If you’re still doing good tomorrow when you wake up, we’ll let you go if you set up a few appointments right away, okay?" Emily agreed immediately, anything was better than just waiting for them to give her the go ahead. 

After swinging by her apartment for a quick shower and a wardrobe change, Santana plodded into Scandals.  She scanned the bar, making a mental inventory.  Fortunately Puck had actually managed to shut the place down correctly without any damage or destruction.  Maybe he wasn't such an idiot after all.

Her steps across the floor echoed within the empty room.  Puck probably crashed after handling the place solo, and he deserved a bit of rest.  Instead of dragging his ass down to help with the morning set up, she did it herself.  Without customers bugging her or Puck's exhausting sexual commentary, Santana was able to race through the little work she had.  When she finished the finance spreadsheet, Santana leaned back in her chair.  She didn't want to be there; she wanted to be with Emily. 

Just thinking her girlfriend's name made Santana's heart twitch.  Her eyes automatically snapped to the top right drawer of her desk, the one that had been locked for years.  Santana sat upright, combing her fingers through her hair.  She bit her lip nervously, the beating of her heart hammering in her ears.  After fishing her keys from the bottom of her purse, she clicked open the locked drawer. 

It was still there; the same midnight blue box she had kept hidden for so long.  Santana brushed her fingers over the top, its velvety softness tugging her lips into a smile.  She toyed with it, tipping it from side to side before finally picking it up.

The gruff creak of the hinge threw her back in time.

__________________________________________________________

"You don't like it?" Santana worries, monitoring honeycomb eyebrows furrowed over hazel eyes. 

"San."  Quinn's gaze is focused on the simple ring pinched between Santana's fingers.

"It's meteorite," Santana explains, already aware that Quinn is guessing at the components.  "With a tiny diamond," she adds, letting Quinn hold the precious jewelry and inspect it closely.  "Em and I used to stargaze on the roof of Bentley Hall...among other things."  Santana mumbled the last part, smiling to herself with the memories of Emily's trembling body beneath her own.  During summer they didn't even need the warmth of a blanket; the inky night was enough to keep their nude bodies hidden from any lurking Hollis peers.

Quinn looks from the ring to Santana, her eyes skeptical.  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” 

Santana’s tongue darts out, wetting her lips, before she nods.  “I’ve never been sure of anything in my entire life.  But I’m sure about this; about being with Em.”  She pauses a moment before looking into Quinn’s eyes.  “She’s the one, Quinn.  I mean it when I say I’d go to the ends of the Earth for her.  To the ends of the universe, even.”  Santana’s fingers sweep over the ring before rolling it into her palm.  “She’s kinda like a meteor, y’know.  She crash-landed into my life and I’ll never be able to erase that mark.”  Her voice is almost inaudible, as if speaking to herself instead of her best friend.  “I don’t ever want to.”

__________________________________________________________

The vibration of her phone on the wooden desk roused Santana from her reverie.  She blinked, snapping the velvet box closed.

Text from:  Puckerman

-‘how’s the wife?’

Santana’s face cracked into a broad smile.  She swiped her fingers across the screen, tapping the send button with a little extra confidence.

Test from: Santana

-          I owe you for last night…she’s a trooper : )

Without hesitation, Santana tucked the ring box into her purse and closed the drawer. 

It took her forty-five minutes to get to the hospital.  The streets of New York weren’t kind at any hour, but after work on a Friday was the worst. 

After finding a parking spot in the boonies and waiting for two rounds of elevators, Santana finally made it to Emily’s room.  She could hear Em’s voice working at top speed, but all she could hear was the rushing of her own pulse.  Before she could even respond, not having processed anything Emily had said, Santana was pulled into a soft, sweet kiss.

Santana hummed, the pressure of Emily’s lips against her own settling her nerves.

Truth be told, and thankfully she wasn’t that high, Emily had been thinking about their future since before their senior year. She’d always been that girl who fantasizes about her wedding, even if no one truly knew that. 

Emily was pulled out of her moment with Santana when Karofsky spoke up. “Dude, when are you going to learn? Em always gets a hotter chick than you. Always,” he teased, smirking a bit. Jones simply shook his head, glaring at Dave, before turning back to Emily. “Well you better get back to work soon. The race to detective is so much more fun when there’s someone to compete with.”

"Picture girl!"

Picture girl?  Santana thought, her brows furrowing with confusion.  The following explanation had her own smile beaming and her cheeks tinted pink.  Emily denied the accusation, of course, but her colleagues called her bluff.  Santana waggled her eyebrows at Emily before turning back to the other officers in the room.

"There better not have been any nudes," she jested, winking at Officer Jones before turning back to Emily.  "Those are for your eyes only," she added in a whisper only Emily could hear. 

Santana stood closer to the bed and tucked unruly hair behind Emily's ear.  She allowed her hand to hover, her thumb gently stroking the curve of a prominent cheekbone. 

The shooting. She had been shot. That wasn’t just a dream. She looked down at the sleeping ball next to her and she reached out with the arm that wasn’t tied up to get the girl out of her bad dream. She knew the signs anywhere, even in her pain-med induced haze. 

She blinked a few times as she tried to take in Santana’s features. “‘M fine, baby,” she mumbled, a lazy smile covering her features when a soft snicker left her chest. The sound of her voice made her laugh. It was echo-y and didn’t feel like hers. But she said the words, she knew she did. She was about to speak again when a few officers poked their heads in. "Fields! You’re up! You scared us, man!" one of them said as he walked in with a few balloons, another uniformed officer with a stuffed “get well” teddy bear.

"Fine, my ass," Santana grumbled, her thumb brushing over Emily's knuckles. 

The intimate moment was shattered by deep, raucous voices.  Santana placed one more kiss to Emily's hand before leaning back, her eyes scanning each of the room's new occupants. 

A soft huff blew through Santana's nose as Emily's voice drawled out the simple name.  It was adorable and cringe-worthy at the same time.  Yet, given the situation, the comedic relief was welcome.

"I'm not..." Santana started, shifting in her seat while Emily's hand closed around her own.  But before Santana could finish her sentence, Emily had already begun to explain.  Well...sort of.

Wife.  Santana's cheeks burned.  Not in embarrassment or shame, but with the rush of adrenaline that accompanies genuine excitement.  There was a soft hum in the back of her throat; a higher pitched sigh that Santana was never able to cover up when something truly thrilled her.  The thought of being Emily's wife made butterflies take flight in her stomach and sent her heart fluttering. 

She allowed her hand to travel down to lace with Santana’s. “Tanny, come on. There’s no point," she said, pulling Santana away. Once getting back outside, she sighed, feeling defeated. “Now what?" she mumbled. She check her watch. “There’s still an hour and a half before the movie." She wanted this night perfect. After three years of separation, she figured this was needed. A perfect get-back-together date.

Emily’s eyes fell closed when she felt the teasingly light pressure on her core. She let out a soft whimper. She, honestly, didn’t mean for this to take a turn towards mature, but she definitely should have expected it -sitting on her, naked. “God, I love you, Tanny,” she said in a hush, as though she was unable to keep it inside any longer. She kept it inside for so many years, and it ate away at her. 

“Yeah, couple-y. Because we’re a couple again. Finally,” she managed to mumble out. “Not that I’m complaining, my love, but you’re the one who made it wanky,” she muttered, her focus Santana’s fingers and where her lips were at the moment. She pulled away for just a moment as she felt her heart melt into a puddle at Santana’s pet name. Queen of my Heart. “You’re so…” she sighed, shaking her head. She could never find the right words to describe her Santana. Because this woman that she sat with was far different than the woman who ran the bar, or the woman she met at Karaoke seven years ago. This was her Santana, a rare jewel that no one but Emily got the pleasure of viewing.

"Still," Emily started as she shifted back to look at Santana.  "We're late because you started it."

"And I always finish what I start," Santana concluded with a wink. 

Emily's eyeroll only made Santana's smile widen.  So their little evening delight had set back their time table.  So what?  Worth it, Santana thought, her heart stammering at the memory of Emily's back arched in climax.  A satisfied hum echoed in her lungs and Santana once again tightened her grip on Emily's hand. 

"Fashionably late, Emmy.  These bitches will wait for us," Santana assured, releasing their handhold and turning into the parking lot of the restaurant.  She swung the car into the nearest available spot and killed the engine.  "Dinner awaits," she coaxed, stepping out of the car carefully to maintain balance on her heels.  She waited for Emily to round the car before linking their arms and walking up to the main entrance.  The doorman politely opened the door and welcomed them with a broad smile.  Santana nudged Emily's side, "Fancy." 

It was gorgeous inside; ornate yet intimate with dim lighting and hushed voices.

"Reservation for Fields."  Emily kept her voice low, not wanting to disrupt the other patrons.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Fields.  Your reservation was for 8 o'clock sharp.  It is now 8:15.  We do not hold tables."  The host closed the ledger to emphasize his disdain.

Santana had been admiring the high windows and the brick fireplace, but her attention zeroed in on the small man before her.