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feeling the blues about it

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The fourth time Santana says that she needs more kissing practice, so come here, Brittany can taste the lie along with her lipgloss. She's slow about a lot of things, but she's always been able to close her eyes and see and hear what Santana will say next. That's another thing that's changing with the kissing in bedrooms, and it's hard to say whether Brittany's heart is bursting or breaking from happiness.

People are as confusing as algebra, as stationery (why a special name for paper that stays still if you can make it into an airplane like any other piece of paper?). Santana is turning into people now, into a person who always locks her windows and doesn't always open them when Brittany asks from underneath the windowsill.

It's impossible to remember all this when she has Santana in her arms, though, soft when she's usually so hard. Brittany wraps her arms around Santana and wraps up all her worries in some other part of her mind where she doesn't have to think, just feel. That's as easy as learning a new Cheerios routine, and after that, kissing Santana is three times more fun and features a lot less angry Coach Sylvester.

"Mm," Santana says when Brittany slides her hands under her shirt, and sighs when Brittany unhooks her bra.

That doesn't sound like just kissing practice, but Brittany closes her eyes and fills her hands with Santana's warmth, her heart with a half-empty promise.