A/N: THIS IS NOT MY ORIGINAL STORY! The ideas, as well as the first few sections, come from the author 1964-2010. I adopted the story, edited it, and added onto it WITH THE AUTHOR'S PERMISSION.
If you want to read that story, (just a heads up, it's incomplete), it can be found here:
.net/s/7424796/1/A_Matter_of_Miserable_Time
Thank you so much to the wonderful 1964-2010 for allowing me to take this incredible story and make it my own. They deserve all the credit for this amazing story idea, though most of the words are my own. Thank you and enjoy!
A/N 2: I'm also sorry for the formatting issues. I had originally had line breaks in where the points of view switched, but I realized that it didn't transfer when I uploaded this document. I've had to update the same chapter a few times, because the things I'm trying so far haven't been working. I apologize, and hope I fix them very soon.
A Matter of Miserable Time
The one rule Mario Lopez ever took seriously was his wife's wish that he keep his smoking designated to his study. The thick smoke from his cigars would linger in the otherwise empty house for weeks and sink itself into the fabric, and Angelica Lopez hated shopping for new furniture once a month. Granted money hasn't been an issue for the couple for at least twenty years now. So many nights, Angelica would often see a thin beam of light sneaking out from under Mario's study door, and as she walked by, she could often smell the evidence of his disgusting habit.
It was 2:30 in the morning, and the only light on in the house was in the study. Mario couldn't sleep. His wife had fallen asleep hours ago. He could tell because the bedroom that they shared fell silent after hard, hurtful sobs slowly stopped echoing down the hall and creeping into the room he had gone to in an attempt to escape the reasons behind his wife's cries. He wasn't ready to face that reality just yet. But most of all, he wasn't ready to tell the person that he knew he must. But she had a right to know. She was his daughter, after all.
The daughter he hadn't spoken to in three years.
It took him a few minutes to look for her number. Ever since that night, the two decided it was best that they lost all contact with each other, except, that wasn't exactly what had happened. She had tried to keep up communications, at least with her mother. He was the one who had severed all ties.
It was scary how fast the two managed to disown each other. His initial rejection, her moving out, graduating, and moving to New York happened too fast for either to really come to terms with. The things he said that night, the monster he became… it made him sick. But after his wife's newly diagnosed illness, it was all he could think about. It was funny because he hadn't thought about it at all in the three years he and his daughter didn't talk.
He finally found an old address book buried in his desk. It was small and tucked away in the back of a drawer he never touched. He skimmed the various relatives' names he had listed in alphabetical order and eventually came across his daughter's name. Beneath her name he saw the neatly scrawled phone number. Her handwriting was so innocent, so pure. He remembered the day she wrote it in. She had smiled, and giggled, laughing as he insisted she write down the number. It was her first cell phone, and by putting the number down on paper, she had felt like an adult.
He couldn't help but smile as he thought back to when they were still a family, back to when he considered her a daughter. He dropped the little blue book in disgust when he recalled the words he said to the girl, his baby girl, that night.
Mario sat in silence for a few more minutes, glancing at the page with the number on it. She had a right to know. She is her mother's daughter, after all.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Brittany and Santana were still wide awake. It was the weekend and an old friend had stopped by to visit them.
Quinn was still Brittany and Santana's closest friend in college, even after the Unholy Trinity had been broken up, and had moved away from each other.
It was nice to get visits from her. She brought back a little bit of Lima with her. The good part, that is. The happy part; the part where the three used to bust their asses for Sue, go swimming during the summer, have sleepovers, and watch One Tree Hill. And most importantly, she brought back Glee Club.
She was a reminder of the best days of their childhood, the fun, carefree days. With Quinn, Brittany and Santana could talk about where everyone from Glee had gone. They would all go together to see Rachel's shows, and every once in a while they'd catch up with Kurt downtown for lunch. Quinn was the best part of home. And Santana was forever thankful for her, though she would be hesitant to admit it.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Mario Lopez was sitting still, slumped down in his chair. By now he had the office phone in his hand and the dial tone was quietly humming from the ear piece that hung in the air. He was frozen in his chair and his chest began to tighten up and the pace of his breathing increased. His palms became sweaty and the plastic phone began to slip out of his hands.
He took a few deep breaths and looked back down at his daughter's cell phone number. He couldn't do it. He couldn't swallow his damn pride and talk to her.
Mario's hand shook, and he almost put the phone back down, but he ground his teeth, and lifted his right hand. The beep of the first number being pressed sounded ominous in the quiet house.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Santana could tell that Brittany was getting sleepy. The way she adjusted herself in Santana's lap was a clear indication she was finding a comfortable position to doze off in. She moved herself on the bed they shared together and allowed Brittany to get completely comfortable, brushing her hair slowly with her finger tips as she waited for her to finally doze off.
Quinn glanced up from the T.V. show they were watching and smiled at her two friends. She loved being with them. And yeah, sometimes she felt like the awkward third wheel, but they brought out the best in each other, mainly that when Santana was with Brittany, she wasn't a bitch. And when they were together, it's like nothing bad had ever happened in their lives.
It was like Brittany never got teased for being stupid, Quinn was never pregnant, and Santana had never been rejected by her family. These girls, to Quinn, were family. And no matter how dysfunctional that family may be, it was definitely a hell of a lot better than her biological family.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Mario was now beginning to control his breathing. His chest was no longer tight, and he didn't feel the need to gag anymore. He paused for a few seconds before hitting the last number, tensing his shoulders up and digging his elbows into the hardwood desk as if he was propping himself up.
The phone rang three times before an automated voice came over the line and stated that the number was no longer in service.
His heart dropped. His hand began shaking with the receiver still up to his ear. His free hand hung the phone up and he sat in silence for a few seconds longer, coming to terms with exactly how much his daughter had cut herself free from him.
He looked at the notebook again, he saw the other girl's number. It was a cell number too. Mario took a deep breath. It was worth a shot.
He studied the number and then proceeded to dial it, once again putting the phone to his ear.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Quinn was sitting closest to Brittany's phone when it became to vibrate. She looked at it, confused at first. Who the hell calls at 2:30 in the morning? She picked it up and let it continue to vibrate in her hand. "Hey San, Britt's phone is ringing".
Santana looked back from behind a now sleeping Brittany. "Who is it?" she whispered softly.
"No idea, just a number."
Santana sighed in annoyance and held out a hand. "Give it to me, I'll answer it." She moved over Brittany quietly, not even disrupting her sleep, something she had perfected years ago. Without looking at the number, Santana slid the iPhone unlock and answered it quietly but still with a forceful tone. After all, it was 2:30 in the morning.
"Hello?" She waited for a reply.
Mario's heart sank when he heard his daughter on the other end of the line. The other girl he could deal with, but his daughter… he didn't know what to say to her. But he knew there was no going back now.
He didn't know why, and he couldn't stop himself from saying it, but the words, "You need to come home", were all he could get out. No 'Hello', no 'How are you doing', just the words that needed to be said. His heart was racing.
Santana froze and her bottom lip began to quiver. His voice was deep, quiet, and sure, so calm compared to the last words they had exchanged. But that was three years ago. Of course he would have changed. She didn't expect him to stay exactly the same person.
Her voice was only a faint whisper when she questioned the man she hadn't spoken to in three years.
"Papi?"
He let out a deep sigh over the phone and into her ear. "Santana, you need to come home." His heart clenched when he said her name. It's the first time he'd spoken it in three years.
There's silence between the two of them. Neither one could think of anything to say. The shock, the hurt, the awkwardness could still be felt by both parties. Santana could hear the memory of his screaming words echoing in her mind
She could tell by the shuddering in his deep, exhausted breathing that he was fighting tears. She remained silent, waiting for him to speak.
"Bring Brittany back with you, too." He finally finds himself adding. He doesn't know why he said it. He hasn't said that name in such a long time, refusing to even think about the blonde girl that grew up with his daughter. But for some reason, he thinks that it will be enough motivation for Santana to agree to come home. He's right.
"You're…" His voice trails off in thought, looking for a way to word what he's going to say next. "You're going to need her." With those five words, he can't stand it anymore. Mario begins to look for ways to finish the conversation.
"I can fly you out here tomorrow, both of you. Santana, you need to be here." His words are tearing Santana in two. "Just, please, come home…"
At first she doesn't say anything. The shock is too great, and the emotions are too strong for her to say anything to him. She nods her head, agreeing to come back, but when she realizes he can't see her, she verbally agrees to it with a weak, "Okay. Call me back tomorrow, please? I need to talk to Britt-" she stops herself, afraid of bringing Brittany up. Granted, her father brought her up a few seconds earlier, but she was still afraid of his reaction to the girl. "I just need some time to think…"
"I understand. I'll call you when I have your tickets and everything ready."
And with that, without a goodbye, Mario hung up on the daughter he hadn't talked to in three years, finally allowing himself to lose control of the stinging tears he had fought his hardest to hold back as he talked to her. And as he played the conversation over in his head, he couldn't help but think, She sounded good. And with that thought, he broke down into tiny pieces across the floor of his study.
Quinn could tell that Santana's emotions had completely shifted in the span of the small telephone call she shared with the person on the other end of the line. She wanted to question her friend, ask her what was wrong, but she knew better. She knew Santana's relationship with her father. Quinn knew that what Santana really wanted was to be left alone. She knew she had to leave the girl there, to her own thoughts. This, of course, was going against every natural instinct she had of comforting the girl.
It would have been pointless to make an excuse of sudden tiredness or that she just remembered she had a busy day tomorrow. Quinn knew Santana would see right through it. So she decided to quietly slip away. Quinn stood softly told Santana goodbye, and cautiously stepped outside of the apartment.
Santana sat in silence, feeling an emotion she hadn't felt for three years began to creep into her skin: fear. She hadn't felt fear in three years, even after she came out at school, because the looks, the remarks, none of that mattered to her. She always fell back to Brittany in her times of need and nothing anyone else said was important. Words from strangers, as harsh as they were at times, were just that - words. The love she shared for Brittany was unbreakable, and that was all she needed.
The only sense of fear she got came from her father. He was a strict, forceful man. His word was law, his voice was God. He was cold, distant, unpleasing and angry.
Mario Lopez was always angry, as far back as she could remember, but she never knew the reasons why, and asking him was just out of the question. The night of complete rejection is a night she often looks back to. As much as it completely breaks her very essence of being, she looks back to it and sees the night she decided to start living. She knew that that night was the final straw, the end of it. No more running, no more being ashamed. That night, those words, the yelling, everything, it was the final obstacle holding her back from Brittany, and she was going to take it either way it came.
Looking back on it, though, Santana knew that it could have only gone one way. It was silly of her to think that her parents, specifically her father, would have thrown away everything they were raised believing, in an hour. She did, however, think that being his daughter would have earned her more. She didn't expect to be accepted in an hour, hell, even a week, but she did expect to be accepted.
As far as she knew, that hadn't happened yet. He called her tonight, yes, but she knew that it must have been something extremely important to get him to contact her. Santana wished that him finally reaching out to her had happened sooner, and not because some crisis was forcing him to.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Mario didn't realize his hand was bleeding until he tasted something coppery on his tongue. He brought his hand away from his mouth, shocked, realizing that his teeth had drawn blood from clenching down as hard as they did. He touched the bleeding mark in a sort of daze, the physical pain a slight distraction from his current internal distress. But he knew it wouldn't last.
Reality came crashing back down, and Mario bit his hand as hard as he could to mask out the sobs and signs of weakness from the breakdown he was going through. He lost himself for a moment in time. His sobs were hard and violent, his breathing had picked up and 30 years of smoking took a toll on his lungs. He began to cough hard as even more tears leaked out of his eyes.
He couldn't stay sitting in this cold, hard leather chair any longer. Mario got up and started pacing, what he usually did to clear his mind. But usually his pacing was cool, calculated. Now it was just erratic, random, and dizzying.
He moved like a caged animal, cautious and ready to strike, fearful that anyone, especially his wife, would catch him like this.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Santana had been zoned out for a while now. She was lost in thought and focusing on the Desktop background slide show of the two girls Brittany had on her computer. She wasn't looking at it so much as she was just mindlessly fixed on it. Pictures from high school, college, random parties, and even some of New Directions showed up. She only focused on one, though.
It was the last one they'd ever take together as a Club. Inside the Choir Room, standing around the 1st place trophy they'd won at Nationals, Brittany kissing Santana on the cheek, as her own cheeks blushed bright red from exhilaration.
Santana looked down as she felt Brittany move against her. Brittany's sleeping behavior was always unpredictable. Some nights she'd be a light sleeper, and some nights she'd sink into slumber like a rock. Santana wasn't quite sure what tonight was going to be, so she just lay in bed, pulling Brittany closer to her, tighter against her.
Santana was suddenly brought back to the secret nights they shared, back before anyone knew about them; the nights where Santana was scared of love, yet more terrified of being without Brittany. The nights where she thought that if anyone found out about them, it would be the end of her. Yet, each night, she held on tight as if she was refusing to let the girl she loved unconditionally, and who loved her uncontrollably, leave the bed, and leave her alone.
"Brittany, if you can hear me, I just want to let you know…" she stopped herself. She needed to make sure she was going to say it right, without fear in her voice. She kissed Brittany's head and whispered softly, just out of ear-shot, "We're going back home." Her cheeks became hot, her palms began to sweat, water blurred her eyes and tears slowly began to fall down each side of her face.
Santana leaned over Brittany and turned out the desk lamp. If she was going to cry, she was going to do it in the dark.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
From wall to wall, floor to ceiling, books and family photos covered the walls and surrounded Mario Lopez. He was never a reader. He just liked the illusion that came with that many books in one room, neatly set in specific places to impress anyone who entered. The study, being his domain, felt as if it was something out of the Victorian era. Books, various ship and underwater diving memorabilia, and a few Big Game animal heads surrounded the desk in the middle of the room. It was a bit tacky and predictable of someone like him with that kind of wealth to do, but he still went through with it as if it were his own 'rite of passage' from the man he used to be, to the man he had become.
Even though he had no idea who that man was, now.
The door to his study was gigantic and made of a dark wood. It was unlike any door in the rest of the house. It always firmly closed, and he was the only one with a key to it. Angelica learned not to question this early on in their marriage, and brought Santana up with the idea that it was her father's work space and no place for a young girl to be in.
There was only one glass window in the room. It was located directly behind the desk he sat at. It overlooked the back yard, and in the earlier years of Santana's life, he loved that window. It helped him keep an eye out for her, and he could almost watch her, his only child, grow up as she played on the swing set from year to year. Of course, once she got too old for the swings, it was tag in the backyard, and then the pool, and then sunbathing…
Angelica always used to jump him about not spending the proper amount of time with Santana, but she didn't know everything. He watched his daughter grow up, he kept an eye on her, and he saw her age and mature. He even watched as she grew up with his daughter. He watched her grow up too.
His sobbing had stopped by now and he was controlling his breathing. His throat still tickled with the threat of another cough, but it never came. He took long inhales and deep exhales as he walked back to his desk and opened up his lap top.
Like the constant need to buy furniture, money wasn't a problem for their family. Mario only ever allowed himself and his wife to fly first class, but his wife never had any problem riding coach. He didn't deem himself better than the people less fortunate than he and his family, he just liked the treatment better.
He ordered the tickets from New York to Cleveland and caught himself hovering over the amount of tickets he was going to purchase. Santana was one, and she was one. He needed two. Of course he needed two. He promised Santana she could come too. He clicked the number 2 and ordered the tickets. He waited for confirmation of the purchase before closing his lap top once again.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Even though Brittany's sleeping behavior was unpredictable from night-to-night, her waking up was a routine set to clockwork. She'd wake up with bursts of bright energy and go about her day. She was noisy and walked around their flat as if she were the only one there. True, Santana was practically dead to the world early in the morning. She was still asleep in the spot she designated her own, but still.
Brittany would run the shower and let it warm up without shutting the bathroom door, letting steam slowly escape out into the rest of the apartment.
At first, back when they were just shy teenagers sneaking around, Santana always hated Brittany for this. The noise, the attention it brought, was horrible for her. She was always scared her mother or father would come up to the third floor of the house and catch the two girls. She'd often beg Brittany to wait until her parents were either gone or asleep, but Brittany was Brittany and she refused to do anything without showering after sex.
Eventually Santana caught onto the idea of 'round two' and joined in the showers too, still as fearful as ever of being caught, but for some reason, in the hot shower with Brittany, the world outside wasn't as scary. They'd come a long way from those days. Santana had come a long way since then.
By now the bathroom mirror was fogged over, the microwave was beeping, and Brittany was turning on the docking station where her iPod was. Their home was alive with sound, sound that was slowly beginning to wake up Santana.
She groaned as she was slowly brought in to consciousness. She heard the sounds coming from the other rooms, heard Brittany's footsteps and heard the shower turn off. Next she begin to feel. She felt the cool, silk black sheets on her finger tips, the feather pillow against her head, the sun's warmth coming through the window. Suddenly her legs and arms came to life and a stretch she hadn't planned took over her body, sprawling her across the bed, her calf touching the cooler, empty spot Brittany had vacated. She let out a soft groan and opened her eyes, slowly allowing them to adjust.
"Hey." Brittany's voice cheerfully called from the kitchen. Santana sat up, rubbing her temples to ease the headache she'd given herself from crying the previous night.
"Hey." she softly replied with a forced smile that Brittany couldn't see. The phone conversation from hours earlier was quickly coming back to her. Santana finally pulled herself out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen and caught sight of Brittany bent over her plate, shoveling food into her mouth and reading the newspaper. Brittany went on eating whatever it was she had cooked, not realizing Santana was there. It smelled like pancakes, but Santana wasn't sure.
In the three years the two girls had been together, they'd become extraordinarily comfortable with one another. They could sit in silence and neither would be scared they did something wrong. Brittany was particularly good at this, and even caught onto it early in their relationship. She knew that at times Santana needed her space, especially in the beginning, before she came out - before they started dating. She never let Santana stray away, but she often loosened the slack from time-to-time; in time Santana learned to do the same thing for Brittany.
Brittany finished her food and slipped into the bedroom to dry her hair and change out of her pajamas. As she passed Santana, she kissed her softly on the cheek.
When Brittany entered the bedroom, she didn't even bother to shut the door. Music began to play, and Santana heard Brittany rummaging around in their closet.
Santana sat down at the kitchen table and thought about the phone call she'd had. She played it over and over in her head, listening to each hurt word of a man who'd become a stranger to her. She had no idea how to tell Brittany they were making a trip back to Lima. She had no idea how she was going to tell Brittany she talked to the one man in her life that verbally assaulted her with the worst words anyone could utter. She had no idea how she'd even convince Brittany to go. She just didn't know anything right now, other than the fact that she needed Brittany more than ever.
Santana got up from the table and walked in a dream-like state to their shared bedroom. She opened the door and closed it softly behind her, without a word. She stepped up behind Brittany, who was now dressed in only her underwear and looking for an outfit. She didn't scare her; catch her off guard, or anything. Brittany only let out a sigh and pleasurable smile at the touch of Santana's hands slowly gripping at her waist. This didn't faze her from contemplating her outfit.
Santana pulled her in closer and let the silence cover both of them. She rested a defeated head on Brittany's shoulder and let out a cool sigh, noticing Brittany's neck erupted in to goose bumps where she breathed. They stood in silence a bit more, Santana's arms now wrapped around Brittany's stomach and she pulling them closer. Brittany realized what Santana was doing and stopped looking for a dress. Instead, she wrapped her arms around Santana's and slowly started to rock back and forth, the soft swaying calming her tense girlfriend.
She felt Santana's lips kiss her shoulder and make their way up to her neck. Brittany just stood there rocking back and forth with a soft smile on her lips, her eyes closed.
Santana stopped kissing her and rested her head back on Brittany's bare shoulder.
"I love you." She whispered, still exhausted from last night's emotions.
Brittany smiled with her head tilted up and to the side, still rocking slowly from side-to-side. "I love you too."
It was quiet in the room, so quiet, and though Santana had never been bothered by it before, right now it seemed unbearable.
With that thought, Santana felt it all coming back to her. The tears and the stinging pain they always bring rushed back to her in full force. She buried her forehead into Brittany's body and let it all go.
"I need to tell you something." She managed to say through quiet sobs, squeezing Brittany tighter into her warm body, her chest pressed into Brittany's back.
Though it was irrational, Santana was squeezing Brittany to hold her here. Santana was afraid her girlfriend would leave after she told her. Brittany's rocking had slowed down a bit, but she didn't stop moving.
"Anything, San." Her voice was calm and expecting. Though how she could possibly be expecting this, Santana didn't know, and didn't care to try and find out.
Santana gently bit into Brittany's neck, but her teeth didn't even leave a mark, and Brittany didn't flinch from it.
Santana felt a sudden burst of honesty come from within her and she's blunt. "I got a phone call, on your phone last night."
"Oh?" Brittany questioned, but still left room for Santana to finish.
"Yeah." Santana lets out along with another deep breath.
"And? Who was it?"
"My…" Santana pulls Brittany closer; she's practically entwined with her now, legs between one another and their chests moving in sync, their breathing matching perfectly.
"My dad called last night, Brittany."
Brittany's eyes shot open and she broke from Santana's embrace. She turned around and looked at Santana, noticing the hurt she had been hiding as Brittany was facing away. "Santana, what?"
Her voice was soft, close. Santana just looked at her and nodded before breaking into tears once more. Brittany pulled her close, putting Santana's face into her neck, letting her cry. "What'd he have to say? Why'd he call?" Her questions came out one after the other, but she was in no hurry to get the answers.
Santana's voice was weak, her words were trembling as she spoke them into Brittany's neck. "He just said I needed to come home." She kissed Brittany's skin softly.
Brittany, finally getting her head back on, led both of them over to the bed, forcing Santana to sit before asking, "Did he say why?"
"No, just that I needed to come home as soon as possible". She buried herself back in Brittany's tight embrace, too afraid of the different emotions she might see on her girlfriend's face.
They sat in silence. Brittany had, by now, been hugging her tightly for a fair bit of time, combing her fingers through Santana's black hair.
"He said he wanted you to come back, too."
Brittany pulled away from Santana and sat completely still, unsure how she was supposed to react, unsure of how to react at all, really.
"What do you mean he wants me to come back with you?" Her questioning was gentle, but as she brought up Santana's father, the one man her girlfriend refused to talk about, a certain hiss in her voice let Santana know that she was upset.
Santana's lip began to quiver as she looked around the small room they sat in together, the room she called her home. She knew she had to answer Brittany, she knew she had to be honest, but she herself didn't know what he meant by Brittany needing to be back with her, too.
"I don't know, Brittany." Her voice was almost drowned out by their joint breathing. "All he said was that I was going to need you there with me…" her voice trailed off into worry. Brittany's face expressed Santana's hidden fears.
"Is everything okay, San?" She asks softly.
"I don't know. He just said we needed to come back, the sooner the better. He said he's flying us out there today…"
"Are you gonna go, San?"
"I mean, with the way he sounded…and calling like that? We know how he is, Brittany, we know this has to mean something. I think I should go."
"But it's been three years, Santana. We haven't spoken to him since…you know." Brittany said, taking her girlfriend's hand as the painful memories flooded back to them.
"I know, but…I just can't shake it, this horrible feeling. What if it's my mom?" Santana hated herself immediately for saying it, and she began to tremble in an uneasy sadness, as the thought of it actually being about her mother filled her head.
"We don't know what it is yet, San. We can't get too worried right now, so don't think that. She's a healthy woman. I mean heck, she raised you, right?" Brittany's smile melts Santana every time, and this reassuring smile is no exception.
Brittany extended her right hand with another small smile and waited patiently for Santana to grab onto it. Santana gripped it and felt the strong tug from Brittany, and she finds herself brought in to Brittany's half-naked embrace.
"It'll be okay, Santana. I promise you". Brittany breathed into Santana's neck, beginning to kiss it softly.
"I love you." She softly repeats between kisses and the occasional biting of Santana's earlobe. "And I'll go with you." She sneaks in, just loud enough for Santana to catch.
Santana sighed deeply as Brittany spoke into her ear. She pulled away from the blonde for a second, before coming back to her, face-to-face, and putting her forehead against Brittany's. Santana kissed her softly and slowly, feeling Brittany's arms pull her in between her longer legs, so that both girls could get the full pleasure of the slow kisses.
"Look at me, San." Brittany interrupts lovingly.
Santana looks to Brittany with a semi-forced smile on her face, hands still clenched.
"I love you, Santana, and we can do this. We'll go back to Lima and everything will be okay. Think of it as a class reunion. But, you know, without really seeing anyone, or even going back to McKinley." Brittany's voice is laced with all the familiar traces of her trademark humor, and a small smirk is all Santana needs to see for her smile to beam brightly and a small, rather embarrassing snort to come from her nose.
"Yeah, we can do this." Santana said as she stepped a bit closer to Brittany. "But first, I want to do something else…" she said, biting her bottom lip softly.
Brittany looks at her with a confused innocence.
"Well… who knows how long we're going to be back in Lima? It could be two weeks, it could be two hours. And while we're with my family, I doubt we can be very affectionate…"
"So you want to…?" Brittany asked, with a smirk on her face, tracing her finger up her girlfriend's thigh.
Santana smiled, and brought her hand down to Brittany's to lace their fingers together, stopping their upward path. Brittany pouted.
"Britt, you have no idea how much I want you. But before we pack, and have to face my asshole family… can you just hold me for a little while?"
Brittany smiled softly and nodded. And so, still clad in only her underwear, Brittany slid back onto their bed, with Santana crawling up next to her. Santana put her head on Brittany's chest, wrapped her arms around her girlfriend's waist, and inhaled deeply.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Mario Lopez checked his email. He saw the new message containing the confirmation for the airline tickets. He sighed, before clicking the 'Forward' button, and sending them to both his daughter and her… friend. He couldn't even bring himself to think the word 'girlfriend'.
Mario shuddered as he thought back to Santana's teenage years. How many times had the two girls run past him, giggling, before slamming his daughter's bedroom door shut? How many times had they emerged the next morning, looking exhausted but elated? How often had he seen his daughter and the other girl link pinkies before facing some unknown challenge? How many times must they have had sex in his house, with him and his wife there, or even with them absent? He did not like to think about it.
Mario thought back to a saying his mother often said to him as a child. The sin isn't in the act; it's in the scandal once the act is spoken out loud. But would he have been happier if Santana had never told them? Certainly they'd still be a family, but would they be happy?
As much as he despised the thought of his daughter's… recreational activities... he couldn't deny how miserable she had been those last few months before she told them. She was bitter, and always on edge. Afterwards… well, he couldn't exactly judge the afterwards part. He had no idea what his daughter was like now. He didn't know what she looked like, sounded like, dressed like…
Mario sighed. No, Santana would not be happy if she hadn't told him and his wife. But was she happy now? He prayed to God that was the case. Otherwise, their family had been destroyed for nothing.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Santana's laptop lit up and emitted a small 'ping!' signaling that Santana had a new email. She sighed in to Brittany's neck and kissed her lightly before standing up to look at the message. Usually she would just leave it, but today she was expecting something from her father.
Sure enough, upon opening the email, there was a new message from her Papi. She clicked it open. Brittany sat up in bed behind her, her long hair mussed up, and tousled every which way. Santana smiled at the adorable sight, before returning her gaze to the more pressing issue.
There were no words in the message, just a simple attachment. Upon further inspection, Santana found that it was their flight confirmation. She almost rolled her eyes when she saw that they were first-class seats. Santana hadn't flown anywhere first-class since the last vacation she took with her family during Spring Break, 3 years ago. But her father would settle for no less, even for the daughter who had disgraced him.
Santana sighed. She checked the ticket time, and then looked at the clock on her and Brittany's bedside table. If they started packing now, they could take their time about it and still make it to the airport with plenty of time to spare. And Santana was nervous. Whenever she was nervous, she needed to be doing something, moving somewhere, or she drove herself crazy. She figured it was best that they start packing and get everything ready now.
"Come on Britt, we have to get ready." Santana said quietly, and unnecessarily. Brittany had read the message behind her girlfriend's shoulder, and knew that Santana would want to start immediately. She was already dressed by the time Santana turned around.
"Tell your dad we'll be in Lima by noon." Brittany said quietly, pulling their joint suitcase down from the closet.
Santana's eyes welled with tears at her girlfriend's thoughtfulness. She couldn't resist striding over to Brittany, grabbing her forcefully, and spinning her around, pressing her back in to the closet door. She kissed Brittany full on the mouth, putting as much force behind it without hurting her girlfriend as she could. Brittany's breath hitched, but she kissed Santana back with just as much force.
"I love you Brittany." Santana whispered when they had pulled away. "I love you so much."
"I love you too. Now come on, get your stuff together. We need to be at the airport in an hour."
Santana nodded and hurried back over to her laptop. She hit 'Reply' on the email to her father.
We'll land at twelve. Pick us up at the airport?
She wasn't expecting him to arrive. Yeah, it would definitely be helpful, and far cheaper, for her father to pick them up rather than renting a car or getting a cab, but it was unlikely. Her father may have called her, but she didn't know how he'd react to seeing her again after all this time. She didn't know how she'd react to their inevitable reunion. But it was worth a shot, if her father showed up… then the awkwardness would get done with that much sooner. If not… well, now she had something else to be bitter towards him about. Not that she needed anything else, that is.
She hit the 'Send' button before shutting her laptop, placing it in the suitcase, and starting to pile in clothes. She didn't know how long she would be there, but she figured she could always wear Britt's clothes, if push came to shove. And her parents had a laundry machine. So she should be fine.
Santana and Brittany bustled about the apartment, gathering as many things as they could, unaware that in Santana's inbox, it read '1 New Message'.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Mario looked up as his email account refreshed, spotting the new message from his daughter. He was hesitant to open it. He was so sure it would be a message saying that Santana had changed her mind; that she wasn't coming back, not without a good reason.
When he read the short message, his heart skipped. He couldn't believe it. She was coming back. She was jumping back into their family life without so much as an explanation. His heart clenched in guilt. She still trusted him. After all the horrible things he did and said to her… she still trusted him enough to come home, where she may very well face more slander and ridicule.
He sighed, before typing out a short reply.
I'll be there.
He hit 'Send', hoping against hope that this wasn't the biggest mistake he had ever made with his daughter. Well… he thought as the memory of his daughter's tear-soaked face as he screamed at her flashed to the front of his mind, second biggest mistake.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
The airplane was quiet. It was almost too quiet. Santana could feel her chest contracting, and she was almost certain that she was having a panic attack. Do those make it impossible for you to breathe? She thought, still thousands of feet in the air. Santana's hands clenched on the armrest, her heart rate rapidly increasing as the Captain announced that they were making their descent.
Every second that went by was bringing her closer and closer to her estranged family, the people that had rejected her at her most vulnerable time. She couldn't help but feel that this was all a huge mistake.
Santana jumped when she felt something slide down her right hand. She looked down at it, and saw Brittany's left hand slowly moving up and down the back of her own, up to her arm, and then back down again.
Against her will, Santana felt her body relaxing, and her hand unclenching under Brittany's soft fingers. Santana flipped her hand palm-up, gripping Brittany's tightly. She took a deep breath and felt herself relax even more.
Brittany smiled at her. "How are you?" She asked softly, looking around the plane to make sure she wasn't disturbing anyone.
Santana nodded. "I'm doing great." She said, unconvincingly. Brittany shot her a look. Santana sighed deeply again. "I'm shit, Brittany. I can't stop feeling like this is all going to go to hell. I mean, Christ, I haven't even spoken to the man in three years, and now I'm going to see him, as in face to face. I don't know if I can do it, Britt."
"Of course you can." Brittany scoffed. "And do you want to know why?"
Santana nodded.
"Because you are Santana freaking Lopez. You take crap from no one, and you always fight for whatever you want. And you know what? You always win."
Santana smiled, but shook her head. "I know I can do it Britt, but that's not why."
"Well, why then?" Brittany asked sweetly.
Santana brought their interlocked hands up to her mouth and kissed the back of Brittany's. "Because I have you. It's as simple as that."
Brittany smiled and bent across the seat to kiss her, softly and chastely.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Mario Lopez stood outside of security, twisting his hands together. He was early; he knew he was early. He didn't mean to be, but he couldn't sit at home any longer staring at the clock.
He was anxious. No, that wasn't it. He was terrified to see his daughter again after so long. What would she look like? No doubt she had embraced her new… identity… and was sporting a short haircut, wearing army boots and lots of plaid. Who knew how she would look, either. The girl that had torn his family apart… Mario was still bitter about it. If they had never moved to Lima, if they had gone to Santa Fe instead, like Angelica had wanted, then his daughter would never have met her, and she would be living a normal life, dating a nice boy.
Mario shook himself. He couldn't be thinking things like that. She came with Santana, a packaged deal; that much had always been relevant. If he wanted his daughter home… if his wife wanted his daughter home… he was going to have to deal with her, and that meant no bitterness, no insults. He couldn't push her away, because that would drive Santana away faster than anything else in the world.
Mario glanced at the clock. Eight minutes, he thought to himself. He gulped and had to force himself not to start pacing. That wouldn't look good. He shouldn't show her how nervous he was to see her again.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Santana gripped Brittany's hand tightly as they approached the security exit. She had Brittany gripped in her right hand, and their suitcase in her left. He purse was thrown over her shoulder, but Santana couldn't feel any of it. She was numb.
"Hey." Brittany stopped her right before they got within sight of the outside terminal. "I love you, Santana Lopez. Now breathe. No matter what, you have me, you will always have me, and I'll always have you. It doesn't matter what happens out there, or what he has to say, because I love you. Nothing can change that. No amount of hate, or prejudice, or rejection can change what I feel for you, and what you know about yourself. You are who you are, and you accept yourself for it. And that is one of the main reasons I'm so in love with you."
Santana nodded, and Brittany reached up with her free hand to wipe at the few tears leaking out of Santana's eyes. Santana sniffled and took a deep breath, before straightening her back, lifting her chin high, and kissing Brittany once, for luck. She walked out of the security area proud, holding the girl she loved.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
When she saw her father, her breath hitched. He hadn't seen them yet. He was looking down at his fingers, twisting them nervously and biting his lip. So he was just as anxious about this exchange as she was.
He looked older than he had three years ago; as if he had aged 10 in the time they were apart. His hair was thinning, and the wrinkles were more prominent around his face. His laughter lines were almost gone, replaced by definite frown lines. Time had not been so kind to Mario Lopez. She hoped she hadn't been the cause of that.
But besides that, he looked very much the same. His hands were rough, as if he had done years of physical labor rather than spend his whole life sitting behind a desk. His clothes were neat, sharp, and elegant. Not wealthy to the point of obscenity, but no one could look at him and think that he wasn't well-off. His shoes were still the same. As far back as Santana could remember he had always worn the same kind of shoe.
Without warning, her father's head shot up, and his eyes met hers. His eyes were different too, Santana managed to notice. They had no cold glint behind them like she remembered. They showed sadness, and guilt, and a terrible loss. Santana stood, frozen to the spot, clinging tightly to Brittany, as she kept eye contact with the man she once loved.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Of course she looked the same. He had thought she would have altered completely in three years, but nothing about her had changed. She looked exactly the same as she had when she was eighteen.
Her hair was long, and it was brushed smoothly. It hung around her face, the black hair bringing out her dark eyes beautifully. He had forgotten how beautifully innocent his daughter could look.
Her clothes were nice. She had grown up fashion-wise since her high school days, but she was still the same Santana. Her green dress was still form-fitting, but not as obscene as some of her old outfits, he remembered, somewhat fondly. She had on nice shoes, too. She was doing well for herself, he could tell.
The next thing he noticed was her hand in the blonde's. His eyes briefly flashed to the other girl, unable to stop himself from seeing how she had changed. She had changed even less than his daughter.
She still glowed. He always remembered that about her; the fact that she seemed to radiate some kind of energy. It was obvious his daughter saw the same thing. She had not changed a single bit of herself. She still dressed eccentrically, but she pulled it off. He remembered Santana joking about how she could wear anything and still look good.
Neither girl was smiling. He wasn't exactly expecting them to be. But he couldn't help but notice how they looked together. His daughter was obviously clutching the other girl's hand feverishly, looking for support. She was getting it. Santana leaned slightly in to her, seeking a comfort that he used to provide her with, the comfort of someone holding you while you were completely terrified. He felt sick to think he was scaring his daughter.
But if he thought about it, it wasn't him that was scaring her, but the situation.
Finally, after only a few seconds, but what felt like an eternity, his eyes met his daughter's. Her brown eyes were shinning brighter than he had ever seen them. A quick, imperceptible glance at the blonde showed him the same thing.
His heart dropped.
She was happy. Indescribably, bubbly, laugh-out-loud, head-over-heels happy, and it was all with her. He couldn't believe it, but at the same time, he was so thankful. So they hadn't lost each other in vain. It had all had a purpose. His daughter was happier than he had ever seen her, and it was all without him or his wife. Maybe the blonde was good for her after all…
He almost shook himself to erase those thoughts. He couldn't change his whole life with just one look at his daughter. He still felt the way he felt about gay marriage and lifestyles… but… maybe Santana's relationship wasn't the same as all the others. Maybe hers wasn't a sin.
This time, he did shake himself. Mario walked slowly towards the girl he hadn't spoken to in years, and he stopped right in front of her. She continued to look into his eyes, and he found that he couldn't look away, either.
"Papi…" She whispered, and he broke. He dove in, and before she could even blink, he had swept Santana up in a hug so tight, she was sure her ribs were being crushed.
His strong arms gripped at her, lifting her into the air, completely off the ground, and swinging her around. And at that moment, Santana was sixteen again, getting hugged tightly by the father that loved her. She buried her face in his neck, inhaling his scent and clutching at his back.
Mario was crying shamelessly. He never let anyone see him weak and emotional like this… but this wasn't just anyone. This was his daughter, his baby girl that he hadn't seen in three years.
Finally, after what felt like forever, Mario put Santana down again, and the illusion was broken. Their heart-felt welcome could not be followed by words, because neither was good enough with emotion or feeling to communicate anything they wanted to say.
He knew it was over. He knew it was back to her being his twenty-one year old daughter, who was living a life he did not approve of and did not participate in. He was back to being the father that had pushed her aside, refused to acknowledge her, and had severed all forms of communication. They were not a family anymore.
No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't swallow his pride and say that he missed her, that he was so, so sorry about what he said, what he did. He couldn't do it, and he hated himself for it.
Once they broke all physical contact, she was no longer the baby girl that had missed her father. She had lapsed briefly, forgetting all the pain and hurt, and giving way to relief. But it was back. She remembered that he was not the same man that had raised her. He was not the father that would love her forever, unconditionally, because he did not love her. And if he did, he had a funny way of showing it.
Mario was the first one to break eye contact. He turned away from his daughter, too ashamed of the pain he saw in her eyes. She understood that they weren't back to normal after the hug. She knew they could never be the same as they were before. And it killed her as much as it was killing him.
He turned his gaze to the girl next to his daughter, who was currently hugging herself to stop from sweeping Santana into a comforting embrace. He knew she wanted to. He could see her fingers practically itching to be around Santana, but she wasn't allowing herself to comfort the girl. He didn't understand why.
And then it struck him. They were being careful. They weren't being as affectionate as they wanted, because they knew he did not approve. He didn't know if it was because they were respecting him, or if they were afraid of him. Probably the latter, he thought bitterly.
"Hello, Mr. Lopez." The girl said softly. Her voice sounded soft and sweet, and suddenly, in a rush, he remembered her laughter as she sat at their dinner table with them, chuckling as Santana would smile at her, telling her stories of her baby cousins, her math teacher, something Sue had said, anything. She used to be a part of the Lopez family, too. Just as suddenly as that memory hit him, another one knocked it out of the way.
He remembered her pleading, sobbing, begging him not to say that stuff about his daughter.
"No, Mr. Lopez. Don't do that, please. You don't mean it. I'll leave. I'll go, I'll leave forever. Just don't make Santana leave." She sobbed, standing between his furious body and his daughter's cowering one. His wife was crying softly in the background, too afraid to say anything.
Santana was fierce, adamant, and terrified. "You can't leave me Britt, not like this. I can't live without you. Please, I love you too much. You're my family, Britt. You can't leave."
And she hadn't. Brittany Susan Pierce had not left his daughter's side once in three years, but of course, he had no way of knowing that.
He managed to get out a strained, "Hello." He still couldn't say her name. It had slipped out last night in conversation with his daughter, but it was still a painful idea for him. He was a coward. He couldn't even meet the gaze of the girl his daughter was in love with. He disgusted himself.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
The car ride back to the house, though brief, was terribly awkward. No one knew what to say. Santana wished for Brittany's quick-witted humor and soft smile. But Brittany didn't dare say anything. She recognized the moment between father and daughter in the airport, and she also understood why it had ended. She couldn't say anything, because for the first time in her life, she did not know what to say to make both people happy, and forget about their argument.
She used to be able to do this with ease. She could keep the peace between Mr. Lopez and his hot-tempered teenage daughter without even batting an eye. The Lopez family loved her for that. She knew that now, speaking would probably make things worse.
Besides the greeting at the airport, Mr. Lopez had yet to acknowledge that she was there. She wasn't hurt by it, though. She was here for Santana and Santana alone. She did not need anyone's approval. Her girlfriend was not so lucky.
Santana was hurt that her father hadn't said anything to Brittany. She was in love with the girl, for Christ's sake, what else did he need? She supposed it was better than saying something offensive. She knew that the second her father said something bad about Brittany, she would have jumped out of the car, grabbed Brittany, and walked back to the airport and gotten on the first plane out of Lima.
But she also knew that Brittany would not let her do something like that. Brittany would not let her make an irrational decision so quickly. She would just shrug it off, smile sweetly, and tell Santana quietly that her family was more important.
But her family wasn't more important, not anymore. Brittany was her family. Brittany was the most important thing in her life now, and had been for over three years. The relationship she had with her family was broken, and unfixable. Salvageable, yes, but it could never be fixed. Not after the things her father said about her… about Brittany.
Santana wanted to say something, anything that would make her feel less awkward sitting in this small car in the backseat, furtively clasping hands with her girlfriend. "Why did you ask me to come home, Papi?" She finally asked.
She saw his hands tighten their grip on the steering wheel. "I think we should wait to discuss this until we get home. Just two more minutes."
Santana nodded. The next two minutes were the longest of her life.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
When they pulled in to Santana's driveway, she had never felt more relieved. She thought coming back to this town, this street, this house, would make her uncomfortable. But in fact, it just made her miss it. She never thought she would miss Lima.
She got out of the car slowly, taking in her family home. She sighed. So many memories filled this place. She remembered how she would sit on her roof during the summer, she remembered Brittany sneaking in through her window in the early days of their relationship, the family dinners, Christmas with her cousins and her abuela, days with her family.
Boy, this day was bumming her out.
Her father led the way towards the house nervously. She could tell by his hurried, shuffling footsteps that he was just one ill-placed sentence away from freaking out. That didn't stop her from linking her fingers through Brittany's.
Santana poked her head through the door, taking in the smells of her house. It smelled the same. She didn't like that. It felt like the house was mocking her, telling her that nothing had changed in all her years of growing up. That wasn't true of course, everything had changed. But nothing about this place was different. Time was frozen inside the Lopez house.
Santana looked around for any sign of her mother. In all this excitement, she had almost forgotten about her. Santana wanted to see her mother. She wanted to hug the woman, no matter how they parted.
Santana could never forgive her mother, not completely. Though she had never yelled at Santana for her lifestyle, she had never stood up for her, either. The night Santana's family was torn apart, her mother sat at the dinner table, crying almost as hard as Santana herself. And in three years, the woman had never once attempted to contact her.
Her mother had walked away from her that night, and to Santana, it hurt almost as much as her father's harsh words.
She had never been close with her mother, and she didn't harbor any delusions about their relationship, but she still wanted to see her. She never had a good relationship with her slightly overbearing, strict mother, but she was her mom. You can't pick your family.
She wouldn't forgive them, though; either of them. "Papi, where's Mami?"
Mario sat down in his favorite leather armchair slowly, groaning as his joints creaked. He was getting old, and every day was a reminder of that. "Santana, mija, I think you need to sit down."
Santana's heart sank past her stomach. She led Brittany slowly into the family room. With every step, her heart beat a little faster, and she got a little bit more terrified.
The girls sat on the couch at the same time, their joint attention focused on Mr. Lopez. He took a deep breath, but never released it.
"Papi, please, por favor, tell me."
Mario released his breath. "That's why I asked you to come home, Santana. It's… it's about your mother." Santana's heart, if it was possible, dropped even lower. "She's… I'm afraid she's sick."
There was silence for a few moments, but it felt like an eternity to the three people in the room.
"How sick is sick?" Brittany asked in a whisper.
Mario kept his gaze on his daughter while he answered, "Ovarian cancer. Not terminal, but… not good Santana, not good at all."
Santana's breath hitched, she choked, and then she sobbed. She broke down and fell against Brittany, no longer caring if her father didn't approve. Brittany held her tightly, her own tears washing down her face as she held her girlfriend tightly.
They didn't know how long they sat there. Brittany didn't move or loosen her grip until Santana had cried so much, that she literally couldn't get any more tears out. She fell asleep on Brittany's lap, who continued to stroke her hair, as her own eyes overflowed quietly.
Mario sat there watching his daughter lose her mind, and was brought back to his reaction when he had found out. Despite how strained their relationship had become over the past three years, he loved his wife more than anything. He could hardly bear the thought of losing her, any of her, to illness.
Finally, once he was sure Santana was asleep he stood up from his chair. "I'll just…" He muttered awkwardly, gesturing out of the room.
"Mr. Lopez." Brittany called softly as he was leaving. He turned back to look at her. "Thank you for telling her in person. I know it wasn't easy for either of you. But this… this made a lot of difference to her."
He nodded, not quite sure how to answer her.
She seemed to sense this. "I know I'm not your favorite person in the world," they both chuckled darkly at this, "but I hope you won't take it out on Santana. I love her, Mr. Lopez, more than anything. But you love her, too. I can't stop her from leaving every time, so you need to watch what you say about her… about me."
He stiffened. "Are you threatening me?" He growled.
Brittany shook her head. "I'm warning you. If you say something bad, if you hurt her, she'll leave. I can try to stop her, Mr. Lopez, because I know how important it is for her to be here, speaking to her family. But I can't always stop her from leaving. I'm sorry; it's the most I can do. I know you may think I'm intruding…"
"You are." He said curtly, before turning on his heel and storming from the room.
Brittany sighed. "You're still like a second father to me, Mario." She whispered. "I want to fix this relationship as much as you. I just want to help you mend your family. Lord knows you're going to need it." He did not hear her. She didn't know whether or not she wanted him to.
Brittany leaned down and kissed Santana on the forehead softly. "I love you Santana." She breathed against her girlfriend's hair. Santana shifted slightly in her sleep.
Brittany took the opportunity to slide down the couch and situate Santana so that she was laying on top of her slightly, cradled against the taller girl's body. Brittany was soon asleep.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Angelica Lopez had four days left with her family, before she was going in to the hospital for full-time care. She would have to be in the hospital for six days, and then recovery for four months. Four months was not a lot of time in some instances, but when you are getting over an illness, it can be an eternity. And every day that passed had her thinking that she was just wasting her time. This cancer business made her realize how short life was. She should be traveling to Paris, and skydiving… and making amends with her daughter.
She sighed as she approached her house in the car. Ever since that night three years ago, their family had never been the same. The house was too big for just her and her husband, and she missed her daughter's voice. She missed the melodic ring it could have, and the raspy sound when she sang, and her laugh, and her smile, and her. She missed Santana so much that it hurt every day.
She also missed Brittany. That tall blonde made her day every time she saw her, which, as Santana and Brittany got older, also increased. Angelica could count on seeing the bubbly blonde at least once a day, unless Santana was over at the Pierce's.
Angelica Lopez was many things, but she was not an idiot. She knew the nature of Brittany and her daughter's relationship, probably before the girls themselves did. She first noticed it when they were twelve years old, and playing outside by her pool. Brittany was more comfortable than Santana, and more aware of her feelings. It had always been that way.
At first, she was shocked, and a little bit put-off once she realized that the two girls had romantic feelings for each other. But they were still young. They would probably grow out of it, she told herself. There was no need to tell Mario about it.
So she hadn't mentioned it. Not even when the girls started acting on these feelings. At first, it was just kissing. She thought it was fine; two girls experimenting with each other didn't matter to her. They could do as they pleased.
Santana never knew that she knew. The girls were not as subtle as they liked to think.
Finally, Angelica realized that she had no problem with what her daughter was slowly coming to realize: that she was gay. She thought she should be angry, or frustrated, or sad, but in actuality, she was just relieved that Santana and Brittany had finally figured it out themselves.
She knew the first day they had sex. She wasn't at home, but when she did get home that night for dinner, the girls were sitting on the couch watching a movie. And the look on Brittany's face as she held her daughter… she knew that face. That was the face of love. Santana, on the other hand, looked completely content. Later, that contentment would turn into fear, and eventually anger, but she outgrew those, too.
Angelica knew that they had had sex. She knew that they had sex all the time. Like she said before, the girls were not as subtle as they thought. She was forever thankful about how deep of a sleeper her husband was. She actually purchased a set of ear plugs, and on nights when Brittany and Santana would have 'sleepovers' at their house, she would furtively slip them into her husband's ears after he had fallen asleep. And Santana never knew.
God, how could that girl think that at least one of her parents didn't know? Even though their house was big, it was not nearly big enough for that. Santana was not quiet, but either way, Brittany certainly screamed enough for the both of them.
She always wondered how Santana justified the relationship to herself. Santana was certainly not emotionally capable of dealing with feelings as great as those she felt for Brittany. She probably told herself that it was 'just sex', or that she felt so comfortable because Brittany was her best friend. That girl was an idiot sometimes.
Angelica knew when their relationship turned from 'just sex', into something more. They would have 'sleepovers', and instead of the sounds she was used to hearing come from Santana's bedroom when Brittany was over, she heard whispers. She couldn't stop grinning that first night. Her daughter was learning how to have conversations instead of sex. Maybe there was hope for this relationship after all.
Of course they still had sex, and lots of it. But it was different (Angelica shuddered to think of how much she knew about her daughter's sex life). The sex lasted longer, the closer and closer they got to a relationship, and the talks at night lasted longer and longer. And Angelica, despite having to listen to her daughter have sex almost every night, had never been happier for the girl.
She knew when they 'broke up'. She doesn't consider it a real breakup, because they were never really together. She knows that that was Santana's fault, as well.
Her daughter was miserable for months. She barely ate, she barely slept, and the house was deathly quiet at night.
Sometimes she could hear her daughter mumbling to herself, things like, "Damn wheelchair", and "Stupid boy", and "Stupid Santana".
Angelica knew when they got back together. She made an excuse with her husband to get them out of the house for a few days. Santana thought she was just incredibly lucky, that this 'excursion' of her parents' had landed on the same day she and Brittany got back together. She had a lot more to be thankful for, and she didn't even know it.
Angelica missed her daughter. She missed Brittany. She missed the talking, the dinners, the laughing; hell, she'd even take the sex if it meant getting both girls home again. She should talk to them. She should have talked to them sooner, but now, especially in this time of emotional distress, she needed to make amends with her daughter.
So Angelica set her jaw as she entered the house, determined to call her daughter the second she got inside. Turns out, she didn't need to.
~SB~SB~SB~SB~
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, and I don't make any money off of these stories.