"Next time you two can't sit next to each other," my mother said, throwing her three green cards down in disgust. After nearly ten rounds, Britt and I had each accumulated over a dozen cards, making my parents' small piles look a little sad in comparison.

"I don't think it would make a difference. I swear they have some kind of mind connection. Even if you had them in separate rooms they'd still be able to do that." He tossed his glasses on the table and rubbed his eyes. "I'm exhausted."

"It's only nine o'clock," I said.

"Already?" He groaned. "No wonder. I'm going to bed."

I picked at the corner of my Magical card as he kissed my mother goodnight and headed for the hallway.

"Goodnight, Mr. L.," Brittany said.

He paused and pursed his lips. "This was…. Good night."

When he disappeared, my mother started straightening the quilt on the back of the couch and picking up the pillows off the floor. "I'm going to bed too," she said. "Did you girls want hot chocolate?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"If you do you'll have to run to the store, your father and I finished it the other day."

Oh. "It's Christmas, Mom."

"You don't drink hot chocolate on Christmas?"

"I do," Brittany said.

"No," I said, "I just mean all the stores will be closed. Because it's a holiday. So we can't… never mind."

"Don't be rude, Santanita, I was just letting you know."

"Sorry," I replied sullenly. Automatically.

"This was…" She looked over the cards spread across the table and floor and nodded. "Thank you, Brittany."

"It's Santana's game," Britt said.

My mother smiled. "Goodnight, mija," she said.

Heat rushed to my face and I stared at the fire as she left the room.

"What's wrong?" Brittany asked softly.

The fire snapped and the logs settled slightly; a waft of sparks drifted up the chimney. After a few quiet moments, I glanced at Britt.

"Thank you," I whispered.

She kissed my forehead. "Of course."

"She hasn't called me that since sixth grade."

Brittany climbed onto the couch behind me and started braiding my hair. I closed my eyes as a shiver overcame me at the sensation of her fingers dragging across my scalp. I sighed. "Can you do that forever."

"Ask me to marry you and I will."

"Brittany."

"What? It's Christmas, I'm allowed to say that."

"You can't just use Christmas as an excuse for everything."

"Why not? It's worked so far."

I grinned. "You're ridiculous."

"I was super calm tonight, I hardly had any sugar before I came over."

"Ridiculous, baby. Not rambunctious."

She tied my braid and tucked a loose strand behind my ear. "There."

I whined and tipped my head back against her legs. "Don't stop." I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling a few pieces out. "Look, it's all messed up. You have to do it again."

She laughed and swatted my hand away. "Stop it."

"You have to," I said. "It's Christmas."

She gently pulled the braid out and stroked my hair as I stared at the dying fire. The wind gusted against the glass door that led to the back yard, forcing the snowdrifts from the deck and the three-months-retired hot tub up against the side of the house. I shivered again.

Climbing onto the couch next to her, I pulled the quilt over us and curled into her chest, resting my head over her heart. She straightened the edges of the blanket while I wrapped my arm around her waist. "I'm really glad you're here," I murmured.

She smiled against the top of my head.

I'd just begun to doze when suddenly she started and shook me. "Santana!" There was a hint of panic in her voice, and instantly my whole body ran cold and I leapt off the couch, getting tangled in the blanket and landing on my ass on the wood floor. I scrambled to my feet, frantically looking for my parents so I could explain away our intimate proximity, but there was nobody in the room but us.

"What? Jesus, Britt, you scared the shit out of me."

"Christmas is almost over!"

"Yeah…? It'll be back again next year."

"No, I mean today is almost over."

I frowned, trying to catch up with Brittany's brain.

"Santana Claus?" she said, as if it were the most obvious, why-didn't-you-think-of-it thing in the world.

Slowly, I grinned as I eyed her up and down. "I don't know," I husked, biting my lip. "You've been awfully nice. You only get a visit from Santana Claus when you've been very," I straddled her hips, "very," I placed my hands on either side of her head, "naughty," I leaned close enough so that my breath tickled her face. She whimpered and tried to capture my lips, but I pulled back with a teasing grin. "Meet me upstairs in ten minutes," I whispered in her ear, rolling off the couch when she tried to kiss me again.

And of course, she immediately followed me.

"Britt Britt, I said ten minutes," I whispered on the stairs, trying not to wake my parents.

She shook her head. "Go faster."

I giggled and pulled her toward my door, pausing for a moment. Even in the weird side-lighting from the nightlight in the hallway, she'd never looked more beautiful. Breaking my act for a minute, I cupped her cheek and kissed her softly. "You know I love you, right?" I said. "Like, really love… love you."

"I like really love love you too," she said. "Now hurry up because I think I'm going to get lucky with Santana Claus."

With a soft laugh we tumbled into my bedroom. The wind still battered the house, but with the Santa hat askew on my head I could barely hear anything aside from her whimpers and muffled moans and I like really love love you too.