Title: My Girl to Me
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Rating: G
Summary: Future / Babyfic.
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Glee is not mine. Nor is the Dawes song "My Girl to Me" I stole for the title
Author's Note: Have other things to do. Writing fanfic instead.
~*~
When Abigail is seven months old, Brittany finally talks Santana into getting their daughter baptized.
"I know that you and I aren't really religious," her wife says, "but it would mean so much to your mom. Remember how she was about us getting married? She just wanted us to let Father Hernandez say a little blessing over the dinner, nothing too Jesusy. And she was so happy when you finally gave in."
She had been, Santana remembers. Her mother'd almost broken her hand squeezing it so hard. So when Santana says yes to getting Abby baptized, she does so with the memory of that moment—and the look on her mother's face—in mind. When they call to tell Mama Lopez Santana is glad for the miles between California and Ohio; even so, she's pretty sure she can hear the exclamations of joy echoing through the wind. Her mother is so excited she starts rambling on in Spanish without realizing it, and Santana's hand clenches involuntarily. Still, when they finally hang-up the phone—after the inevitable fifteen minutes of FaceTime trying to get Abby to show off her latest tooth to her adoring abuela—Santana knows she's made the right choice. Even if she rolls her eyes when her mother starts talking about digging up the christening gown that had been Santana's own (and her brother's, and her father's and so on) all those years ago.
Of course, she draws her lines in the sand, the same as with anything else. Like the wedding, this event will be non-denominational. Santana may have been raised Catholic—but she'll be damned if her kid's getting baptized into a religion that holds to some archaic belief about homosexuality being a sin. So they'll fly Father Hernandez in and let him say some words over their baby girl, and they've already decided who to name as Abigail's godparents. But they'll be having the shindig at a local garden and nobody's coming home with any a candle or eating any wafers. Technically, she supposes, they're having the kid blessed. But as far as Mama Lopez is concerned, it's a baptism. And that's that.
She and Brittany decide pretty quickly on who they'll ask to act as Abby's godparents. Brittany chooses Artie, almost without thinking. Even before their brief romance in high school she'd been able to see what a kind person he'd been, and she wanted her daughter to have his kindness in her life. Santana took a little longer—at least, she took longer to tell her wife who she'd decided on. She knew before Brittany even said Artie's name who she wanted.
But first, first she has to make sure it's okay with the woman she's chosen.
So one afternoon she cuts out early from work and walks to quiet little park near her office. And she calls her best friend, all the way across the country.
Quinn picks up on the fifth ring and laughs when Santana opens with her usual "Bitch, what took so long." Santana can hear the smile through the phone when Quinn counters with a sassy "Bitch, I was making dinner." They chat for a couple of minutes, filling each other in on their lives. Quinn tells her stories about her odd New York neighbors, and the trials and tribulations of being a pup editor in a mid-sized publishing firm. And then listens while Santana tells her everything that's happened with Abby since they'd last seen each other, from teething to smiling to last month's bout with some sort of stomach bug.
But soon enough Santana stops stalling. "So, Q," she starts, trying to temper the slight waver in her voice.
"What's up, San?"
Quinn doesn't press or rush her, and Santana is grateful for their long friendship, ups and downs and all. Because Quinn knows how she works, how hard it is for Santana to strip off her thick layers and let herself be really seen—or heard, in this case—by anyone other than her beloved wife. So Santana prepares to cut herself open, and Quinn waits for her to be ready.
It only takes a few heartbeats before Santana's ready to broach the purpose of her call.
"Brittany talked me into getting Abigail baptized—my mom, you know—and she needs a godmother. And I," she pauses for a moment, "I want to ask if you'll stand up as Abby's godmother for us?"
Quinn is silent for so long that, but for the sound of a dial-tone in her ear, Santana is concerned that their call was somehow interrupted.
When Quinn finally speaks, her voice is thick.
"Why me? You know I haven't been to church in years. And I think we can all agree that I'm nobody's role model."
Even after Santana explains how non-religious the ceremony will actually be, Quinn is still confused why anyone would want her to play that role in a child's life.
"What about Rachel," she suggests instead, "or Mercedes? Or Brittany's sister, doesn't Brittany want her to be the godmother?"
"Brittany picked her person already—Artie. So I get to pick the other, and I want you. Not the Hobbit, not my sister-in-law. You, I want you."
"But I don't—"
Santana interrupts before Quinn can finish.
"Britt picked Artie because he's the kindest person she knows. She has this idea that godparents are like regular parents, that Abs'll inherit it from him."
Quinn laughs, because that's exactly something Brittany would say.
"And I want you, Q, because you're the strongest person I've ever known. High school tried to eat you alive, and you chewed it down and spit it back out again. You had a baby, you went kind of crazy, you almost get yourself killed and you had to re-learn how to walk. But you still made it. You got out and you're on your way to conquering your world. You're strong, Q. Artie'll give her kindness, and you'll give her strength."
Santana pauses and takes a deep breath, looking around at the empty park in the late-afternoon sunlight. She's glad that there's no one around to witness this, to see the shine in the corner of her eyes as she continues.
"And, Q. I'm asking you to be my daughter's godmother because one day, one day she's going to need you. One day she's going to ask me how a mother could give up her child. And I'm not going to be able to answer, because I won't have any idea how someone could. But you will. You'll be able to tell her how sometimes loving means letting go, and show her how to live strong in knowing that. So I don't want you to be my baby's godmother, Quinn, I need you to be her godmother."
She can hear Quinn crying now, and to be honest, Santana's eyes aren't the driest either. Because she's just given voice to one of her biggest, and most secret, fears. Now it's out there, what even Brittany doesn't know. The fear that one day she won't be able to solve her sweet baby girl's problems, won't be able to stand between Abigail and the world anymore. This baptism was never about her mother, or about religion or faith. For Santana, this is all about filling her daughter's life with two more people who will love her and guide her. People who will stand between Abigail and the world when she isn't able to anymore.
She waits quietly for a minute or two, listening to Quinn sniffle in the background, and pulls her light jacket a little tighter as a cool breeze sends a shiver down her back.
"Um, Santana?" It's Rachel on the line now instead of Quinn, and Santana is thrown off. "Sorry, I don't know what you said to Quinn, but she's not able to come back to the phone right now. However, I am to tell you first, that her answer is yes. And-" Rachel's voice cuts off for a moment and Santana can hear muffled conversation in the background.
"—Sorry. Second, that's the nicest thing you've ever said, and I quote, 'you bitch.'"
Santana can't stop the bark of laughter that escapes as Rachel relays that message on, confusion evident in her voice. Quinn's always been able to pinpoint when the time for seriousness has passed and time to return to their normal banter. And now's no different.
"Noted, Berry. Now you tell her that if she ever tells anyone about this conversation, I'll tell Judy just who scratched Russell's T-Bird back in the day."
She can hear Quinn laughing in the background now as Rachel parrots the empty threat on and knows that everything is now back to normal. She makes small talk with Rachel for a few more moments—though it doesn't occur to her to ask why she and Quinn are having dinner until much later that evening—before ending the call with a promise to send the baptism details over as soon as possible.
She walks home in the quickly cooling evening air, humming some old song to herself as she tries to pull herself all together again before reaching the apartment she shares with her wife and daughter. It's almost dark when Santana finally walks through the door, but aside from an odd look, Brittany is silent on the lateness of the hour or the fading redness of her eyes and cheeks. Abigail's already down for the night, but Santana can't resist peeking in on the sleeping baby, letting her hand rest gently on the child's back and feeling the rise and fall of her breathing.
When she comes out of the nursery, carefully pulling the door shut, Brittany hands her a plate with reheated leftovers and they settle onto the couch for an informal night of dinner and tv. Santana doesn't last long, and before she knows it her wife is pulling the plate from her hands and gently leading her to the bedroom.
"I talked to Quinn today," Santana says.
"Mmmm, how's she doing" Brittany asks, standing before her.
"Um, good. I think. I," she pauses for a second as Brittany pulls the pins from her hair, and gently combs through it with her fingers, "I asked her to be Abigail's godmother."
"Yeah," Brittany responds, not sounding too surprised, "and what did she say?" She starts to unbutton Santana's shirt, leaning in to kiss delicately along her wife's jawline.
Santana closes her eyes, and a small groan escapes from her throat as Brittany's hands meet bare skin.
"Yes, she said yes." She can feel her wife's mouth on her neck now, curving into a gentle smile.
"I love you so much, Santana," Brittany says.
Hearing her wife say that never ceases to make her breath catch, or her heart want to sing. She feels the familiar jolt of heat as she feels Brittany's mouth on her own, feels their tongues twist and play. Santana's not up for anything tonight, but that doesn't stop Brittany from laying soft kisses down her body as she pulls off the rest of her wife's business suit. And then back up again as she guides olive-skinned legs into flannel pajama pants and an old McKinley HS gym shirt. The next thing Santana knows she's being tucked in under the covers of their bed, and the last thing she remembers is the sound of Brittany turning off the lamp, and the feel of her wife's warm body around her own.
If Santana dreams that night, she doesn't remember in the morning, but the warm burn of love stays with her straight into the next day.
A little over two months later, Santana stands before a white arbor with her wife at her side, watching as her childhood friends hold her squirming daughter and the priest who baptized her, who blessed her marriage, lays his hand on her daughter's head and prays for her to grow into a strong, loving woman under the care of her parents and godparents. The Lopezes and the Pierces, their high school friends, and various work acquaintances sit in rows of white folding chairs just a few feet away, sharing in the moment with them, and when Santana looks toward the crowd she all she sees are happy faces smiling back at them.
When she lets go of Brittany's hand for just a moment to reach up and wipe away a tear she'll deny to Hell and back ever existed, Quinn catches her eye for just a moment, eyes suspiciously shiny herself. They stare at each other for a second, both daring the other to blink first, before they each let out a small but joyous laugh.
She and Brittany have chosen well for their daughter, Santana thinks. Abigail is going to turn out great, with a big, strong heart, and the love of so many.