Work Text:
Santana loves waking up covered in hair.
Wait, no. That didn’t quite…
There’s two heads resting on her chest right now. They’d long ago decided to take the slang ‘pillows’ seriously, deeming Santana’s breasts the perfect resting place. One is blonde, wavy hair that seems to be alive and get everywhere, claiming as much territory as it can, as if it were the sun crossing the land. The blonde strands meet and mix perfectly with the straight and unyielding brunette strands that belong to the other head on Santana’s chest. Their heads are heavy and make Santana feel secure, almost like a thick comforter in the middle of winter. Not that she needs blankets anymore. She’s got her own personal heaters with her, tucked securely into her sides, neither of them straying for the minutest of spaces. Even in the middle of summer, when they’re naked and sweaty and lying under the fan for some sort of release from the heat, they don’t stray from their positions. Heads are always in the same place, though sometimes the sides differ, their fingers intertwined and hands squeezing on Santana’s abdomen. Thighs wrapped around perspective thighs, bodies snug as they could possibly be.
If you had mentioned to Santana the positioning years ago, she would’ve told you you’re crazy (in more colorful terms), but it’s not the least bit uncomfortable. In fact it’s become home. When one of them is gone out of town on business, Santana has the hardest time sleeping (they all do), their other side is restless and constantly searching for its missing piece. It’s even worse when they’re both out of town, or Santana has to go away. No sleep happens at all then. Purely staying awake all night, more than likely sitting in a hotel chair by the window staring at the lights of the city below, sometimes (if she’s lucky) she’ll have something she can work on. Some sort of distraction from the longing in her soul for the people who fill her up and make her feel safe and loved and whole.
They didn’t start out that way. In the beginning there was a lot of work and changing of positions and dancing around until, eventually, the pieces started to fit together. They had found the way their puzzle was meant to go, how they were meant to fit (and they knew, even back when, that they were meant to fit. They just needed to figure out how.)
Their bodies settled into one another, like the roots of a tree seeking out and claiming what was near it. They were woven together by an unbreakable thread that will not fray, no matter how far they may get pulled away by distance or work.
It’s amazing how well they work, not just in sleep or in bed, but how their oneness flows into everything they do.
That’s not to say that they don’t fight. No, their personalities are those in which it’d be impossible not to, each such strong and independent and utterly different than the others, but that’s also why they work. They problem solve like no other, and they care so naturally and deeply that it’s easy to make things work. To automatically buy the vegan products or get the orange colored thing over the pink colored thing (though red is always best, unless there’s purple) and how Santana would rather do without something she wants than put up with a substitute. They flow effortlessly in and around each other, so much so that they don’t even need to think about it anymore. It’s simply how they are.
Like their sleeping positions.
They naturally came to how they are, the way they fit perfectly inside Santana’s arms. The way that Santana loves waking up covered in hair, as if the women with her have so much love for her that even their hair wants to cling as much of her as possible.
She feels the same way. She loves that they know that about her too.