Character(s)/Pairings: Santana/Brittany, Santana's family on her father's side
Summary: Santana comes out to her dad, her stepmother, and her half sister. It does not go as expected as they somehow manage to make the revelation not about her at all.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Santana and Brittany are not mine and therefore I have no legal right to them. I also, have no money.
Note: This is unbeta-ed and was written at around 3 o'clock in the morning. Please forgive any errors.
"Dad, Gabriella. Can you guys come here for a second? I have something to tell you."
Zoë Garcia-Lopez looked up from her Buffy the Vampire Slayer comic to see her half sister standing in front of the fireplace. Brittany, her sister's best friend was standing beside her. Her parents quickly made their way into the family room from the kitchen where they had been "preparing" Chinese takeout.
"When did you get here, Santana?"
"Zoë, I've been here for almost an hour. I went to go get the Chinese food with your mom. You've just been lying on couch reading since I walked in the door."
"It's true, I was watching you," Brittany added.
Zoë, very used to Brittany's odd tendencies, let the creepy comment slide and picked up her glass of water to take a sip.
"Alright Santana, what would you like to talk to us about?" Ray Lopez asked his oldest daughter. "We don't want the food to get cold."
"Ok. Well – I guess I'll just spit it out. Dad, Gabriella, Zoë… I'm gay."
A smile graced Zoë's lips and she said to her sister, "It's about time."
Her parents' reaction was different, to say the least. Her dad just looked down at his hands and shook his head.
"What? Oh no, oh no! Not you too!" her mom yelled at Santana.
"Wait mom," Zoë interjected. "What do you mean, "too"?"
"Ray, do you hear this? Do you understand what it means? I am never going to have any grandchildren! Ever! Not even step-grandchildren!" Gabriella exclaimed, ignoring her daughter completely.
"Mom, mom!" When Zoë finally had her mother's attention, she continued, asking the same question as before. "What do you mean, "too"?" She glanced over to her sister who had a look of bewilderment and confusion on her face. Brittany, on the other hand, was staring off into space, seemingly unaware of the present conversation.
"It's ok Zoë. Your mother and I have known since you were very young. You don't have to hide from us," Ray told his youngest daughter.
"Since I was young? What are you talking about?"
"Well, I mean, it started with those Doc Martins you made us buy you when you were four," her mother said.
"What? The pink ones? Oh come on! It was winter, I needed boots, and my favorite color was pink. Problem solved. Also, I was four."
"There are other things too," her dad commented. "You wear sneakers every day."
"I run track every day. I have practice every day. Of course I wear sneakers. Santana wears sneakers all the time, too. And if I'm understanding you correctly, you've never suspected her." Zoë said incredulously.
"You also like to wear those plaid shirts. Santana has never worn one of those," her mother said.
"Mom, you are currently wearing a plaid shirt yourself. Does that mean you're a lesbian?"
"Zoë, don't act fresh with your mother."
"I'm sorry dad. But this is ridiculous. Of course Santana doesn't wear plaid shirts. That's 'cause she's always in that stupid cheerleading uniform!"
"Hey!" Santana yelled, reminding the rest of the room of her presence.
"What! It is stupid. I mean, I swear I've seen you sleep in that thing."
"I just get tired after practice sometimes. That's all."
"Sometimes, you get tired after other things we do after practice like –"
"That's ok Brittany, I know what you mean," Santana said, putting an end to Brittany's potentially damning sentence.
Zoë took this opportunity to turn back to her parents. "Ok, what else? What else about me screams lesbian?"
"Well, you have never tried out for the cheerleading squad at school," her mom piped out.
"Right, because cheerleaders can't be gay. Mom, that theory has just been disproved. And again, I run track. If you didn't want me to be so dedicated to the sport, maybe you shouldn't have put me on a track team at the age of nine. I'm sixteen now. It's kind of ingrained."
"You wear those hipster glasses," her dad said.
"So it's my fault that you two passed on your bad genetics. Should I revert to wearing my elementary school glasses? They might not fit as well, but I'm pretty sure they don't scream gay, just juvenile and hideous."
"You play the guitar," her mom appended.
"Because dad taught me too. I didn't ask to play!"
"Wait, dad, you taught her how to play the guitar?" Santana yelled. "I asked you for years to show me how and you always said you didn't have time!"
Ray cast an apologetic look at his oldest daughter. "I'm so sorry Santana, but it was hard to find time when you were younger and with your mom. Especially since you could only came over here once every two weeks. You're older now, so if you would like to come over so that I can teach you, we can do that. In fact, I would really like that."
"I would too," Santana told her father with a smile.
"You have Tinky Winky under your bed. You have a gay flag on your wall. You have pink triangles in your drawer. And you have a picture of Orlando Bloom next to your bed."
Everyone turned their heads to look at Brittany, who had just had a sudden outburst.
"That's why they think you're gay," Brittany concluded.
Zoë finally understood and attempted to counter all of Brittany's arguments.
"First of all, I have all of the Teletubbies under my bed. In a box. That no one is supposed to see. I grew up watching Teletubbies! Is that a crime? Secondly, I have an American flag on my wall. Not all flags with stripes are gay flags, Brittany. Just ones with all the colors of the rainbow. Thirdly, pink triangles? I have no idea what talking about."
"Oh, well when the Nazi's were in power in Europe, they used to make the gay people in the concentration camps wear pink triangles. And then they became like a gay symbol or something during Stonewater."
Again, everyone turned to look at Brittany, this time astounded by the semi-factual information she somehow knew.
"Kurt told me that when I was at his house teaching him how to dougie. And the triangles are in your top draw, on the far right side, under the music box."
Zoë's eyebrows made a beeline to her hairline. "Oh my god Santana, why has Brittany been in my underwear drawer?"
With that question, Santana came to understand what Brittany and Zoë were referring to and her mouth formed a perfectly shaped 'o'. Gabriella and Ray were still at a loss.
"Santana, what are they talking about? What are pink triangles?"
"Thongs, Gabriella. Zoë's thong underwear."
"Zoë! Why on earth are you wearing thongs!" her mother practically shrieked. Her father continued to look as lost as ever.
"Well I'm not wearing them because of the awesome comfort they provide," Zoë said with more than a hint of sarcasm. "Wow, thanks a lot Santana. Really, I super appreciate it. Ok, let's just put all of the cards on the table. Santana is gay. I am straight. I know this because I sometimes wear thongs and I enjoy having sex with boys."
This statement broke Ray from his haze.
"You are having sex with boys? That's it! You're grounded!"
"What!" Zoe cried. "That is so unfair. I just lost my virginity like six months ago. Santana and Brittany both lost theirs when they were fourteen. And they've been sleeping together since they were fifteen." Zoë took this time to drink some water for her now aching throat.
"Wait, Brittany, you're gay too?" Gabriella inquired.
"Hmm, I love Santana. And I like scissoring with her too, so –"
Water sprayed out of Zoë's mouth and all over Santana's shoes. Ray, Gabriella, and Santana were rendered completely catatonic.
"Oh wow. Brittany, you are golden. Never change," Zoë said in between bouts of laughter. "And with that, I am going to go upstairs to my room so that I can read my comics in peace. Brittany, thank you for being the only person to bring somewhat competent reasoning to this ridiculous discussion. Mom, dad, you're stereotypical views astound me. Please call me down when dinner is ready."
Ray and Gabriella, still too shocked to move, just nodded their heads as Zoë made her way off the couch up the stairs. Santana grabbed Brittany's hand pulled her up the stairs as well. Before Zoë entered her room, she turned around to look at her eighteen year old half sister.
"Santana?"
Santana turned to look at Zoë standing in her bedroom doorway as Brittany walked into Santana's room.
"Yeah?"
"I just want you to know that I'm proud of you. For finally coming out and all. Sorry about what happened down there."
"Well, it wouldn't be a Garcia-Lopez gathering if there wasn't a fair amount of flying accusations and constant yelling."
"If it's any consolation, I'm pretty sure mom and dad are ok with it. Ok with you. They're proud of you too, you know?"
"Thanks Zo. Oh and by the way, only four types of people have pictures of Orlando Bloom next to their beds. Closeted gay girls who are afraid to admit they are gay to themselves, closeted gay girls who are afraid to admit they are gay to everyone else, total geeks, and Miranda Kerr. So, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"
"Aww, man. You got me Santana. I guess I should just come out with it. I am – a big geek."
"It's about time."