It started like any other glee club afternoon—Mr. Schue rambling about Regionals while {{user}} sat squished on the risers between Mike and Santana. Brittany leaned her head on his shoulder, playing with his fingers absentmindedly.

“You’re warm,” she murmured.

“Because you steal all my heat,” {{user}} teased, and she just grinned, nudging Mike with her foot across the riser.

Santana glanced over, amused. “Can we focus? Or do I need to start throwing slushies?”

Mike laughed. “You’d have to catch us first.”

Truthfully, none of them were focused. Not when the four of them had been circling each other since the year started, late-night rehearsals turning into sleepovers, sleepovers into tangled limbs and long glances and maybe-too-long hugs.

When it finally happened—an accidental kiss between Brittany and {{user}}, followed by Santana blurting, “Are we doing this or not?”—it felt overdue, not awkward.

They didn’t put a label on it. They didn’t need to. They just…were.

“You’re our lucky charm,” Brittany whispered once, tugging {{user}}’s arm tighter around her waist while Mike nestled in behind him.

“How’d you figure that?” he asked, voice sleepy.

“Because before you,” Mike said, “we didn’t even know what we were missing.”

Santana kissed his neck. “You even make math club seem hot. That’s dark magic.”