THURSDAY NIGHT
"…pushed his way out and he was a beautiful butterfly." Santana didn't need to read the words on the page as she finished the story. As one of her daughter's favorite, she could practically recite it backwards.
"Why was he a butterfly?" Mia asked, completely fascinated.
"Because that's what caterpillars do. They grow up to be butterflies."
"Ca—Can I—Can I grow into a butterfly?" She asked excitedly, sitting up on her bed.
Santana laughed, ignoring the stutter. "Are you a caterpillar?" She teased. Truthfully, she and her wife had been a little nervous about Mia's speech development. But everything they had read said it was pretty typical for her age.
"Yes!"
Santana snorted. Mia was so much like Charlie. When she decided she wanted something, she focused on it a hundred percent. As an adult, Santana was sure Mia would be just as driven as her wife. As an almost four year old, however, it was often a nightmare to redirect her attention to something realistic. "Well then, Miss Caterpillar. Time for bed."
"Another story? Mama said I could have another story." Mia lied. But she liked stories and sometimes her Mamí would read an extra one, so it was just a little lie.
"Mama lies." Santana snorted, dismissing Mia's request easily. If Charlie promised another story, she could come down here and read it herself. "And it's past your bedtime."
Mia pouted but flopped back against the pillows and snuggled in for the night. Santana kissed her quickly, turned on the Princess Unicorn Sparkles nightlight and made her escape.
She paused at the foot of the stairs, tempted to return to the kitchen and clean up the gross dishes from dinner. She sighed, they could probably wait. She was tired, and it had been a long day filled with crappy patients and intricate procedures. Really, all she wanted was to curl up in bed and read a good book before falling asleep. Maybe she would let Charlie cop a feel if her wife was feeling it tonight.
She grimaced when her foot came into contact with some weird toy left behind on the stairs. With a silent huff, she flung the toy down the stairs, resolving to clean up tomorrow at breakfast even though it was probably Charlie who would be the one to clean it all up. She chuckled and made her way to the master suite where her wife was undoubtedly already in bed. She sighed. It didn't always used to be like this.
She loved her wife, honestly she did. But sometimes she missed the excitement and spontaneity that had once been a pillar of their relationship.
She paused at the door to the nursery where her son was sleeping fitfully. Sometimes she liked to just watch him, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest to remind her that he was still here. Charlie sometimes called her neurotic. Most times, she would agree. But taking a few moments to watch her son so unusually calm and still always soothed her own nerves. Eventually, she pried herself away from Jack's door and approached her own bedroom.
She smirked, even from several feet down the hallway she could hear her wife making soft grunting noises as she concentrated on whatever weird game she was playing now. She sometimes felt a little bad, not really able to even feign interest in Charlie's games. But her wife liked to unwind with mindless violence and she oftentimes found it pretty peaceful just to sit at Charlie's side. It had quickly become one of her favorite things to do with her wife. That probably sounded weird, but the opportunity to just sit next to Charlie and draw from her quiet strength was liberating. Sometimes they talked about their days, other times they just sat next to one another, holding hands while each focused on her own task.
She frowned and paused at the sight of her wife already decked out in her favorite pajama ensemble. Once upon a time, she and Charlie had extravagant nightly routines followed by complicated plans. They been wild and hot and—all the things they weren't anymore. Now they were married, and stuck in a routine. Don't get her wrong, she loved the routine. But the routine was predictable.
Was predictable bad? No.
They were fine.
Fine.
At least she hoped they were fine.
It wasn't that she was unhappy. In truth, she had never been happier.
But sometimes, she wondered:
Was this what it felt like to grow old with someone?
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
Rachel felt like she was going to scream. She threw the shirt that she held in her hand against the wall. "How could you do this to me, Finn?"
"Me?" Finn looked back incredulously, stuffing another shirt into the suit case laid out on the bed. "You are the one who is going to ruin both of our careers."
"You slept with someone else." Rachel flung her clothes into the open suitcase. "I can't—I just can't believe you would do that to me—to us."
"It was a mistake. This doesn't mean we have to throw away everything we've worked for." Finn pleaded. "You don't have to go public with our separation. We can manage this."
"That's all it is for you, right? Your precious career?" She scoffed. "I should have known."
"Rachel—" He pleaded. "I am sorry. I will make this right."
'How?" She asked, genuinely curious. She never could, never would forgive him. But the fact that their romance was one of Broadway's favorites meant that this could deal a serious blow to her career. Especially since Finn's new girlfriend was married to a top show's producer. This couldn't possibly get worse.
"I'll take full responsibility—"
"It is your responsibility." Rachel pulled at the zipper angrily. "You slept with her."
"It was only once with her."
"Once?" She scoffed heavily. "She's pregnant Finn. Once is all it takes." Then, something in the way he framed his last statement made her look at him calculating. "What do you mean it was only once with her?"
He looked at her completely panicked, and she knew. "There are others?" She prodded and closed her eyes in utter disbelief. When he didn't respond, she opened them and glared at him until he shifted uncomfortably.
Finally, he nodded. "Just a couple."
She couldn't believe this. She was Rachel Berry. Two time Tony winning actress. Star of a new Broadway production. Finn was supposed to be her leading man.
And just like that, the fairy tale was over.
"Did you at least use protection?"
His silence was all the answer she needed. How could he do this to her? She was going to be the laughing stock of the industry.
Her hand moved of its own accord, the slap echoing throughout the apartment she had once thought was filled with love. He turned to her with a wounded look and cupping his cheek that was already turning a light shade of pink. "Rachel, I'm sorry."
"Sorry isn't good enough, Finn." She rubbed at her right palm in an attempt to try and alleviate the sting. It scared her a little, how good that felt. It was a small measure of justice that filled the growing hole in her heart.
She needed to get out of there. She zipped up her suitcase, satisfied that she held the most important of her belongings and purposefully ignoring the pang of realization that not very long ago someone else had been in this very position.
Was this how her last girlfriend had felt, when she discovered that Rachel and Finn had fallen for one another?
Maybe it was karma.
Maybe it was fate.
Maybe she deserved it.
Rachel shook her head. She didn't have time to worry about that.
Instead, she let the thoughts fuel her anger. She had given up everything to be with Finn. She had risked her career, thrown away a relationship, sold the apartment her fathers' paid for and for what? To be treated like the day old trash, discarded without a second thought?
She deserved better than that.
"Why can't you just forgive me?" His eyes took on a hurt puppy dog impression. Once upon a time, that look had been her weakness. Now she just felt that he looked like a child. "I never meant to hurt you."
"But you did hurt me, Finn." Rachel shook her head, pushing past him to gather the remainder of her things. "All of the parties, the missed birthdays, I thought you were working."
"I was working." Finn defended, puffing his chest out in some misplaced attempt to assert his honesty. "I didn't mean to—"
"I'm so done with you. We are over." Rachel threw up her hands and grabbed her things making her way to the door in a furious whirlwind.
"Please Rachel, I'll try harder."
She turned back to him, her eyes widening as she finally understood that this was who he had always been. A child who huffed and pouted when he didn't get his way. Finn was used to being the leading man and industry heart-throb. "You'll try harder?" She laughed. "I've been working so hard to keep us together, fighting for every scrap of time that we might spend it together and you slept with other women?"
"It's hard to be famous!" Finn pouted. He reached to "People expect stuff from me. I can't disappoint my fans."
"Heaven forbid you disappoint your fans." Rachel shook her head exasperatedly and opened the door. "You slept with people who will destroy my career. I may never work again. But Finn Hudson, is the god that hung the moon, so it's fine, right?" She scoffed sarcastically.
His eyes narrowed like he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. "I refuse to stop being extraordinary just so you can be comfortable." He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Comfortable?" She laughed. "You think it's just me wanting to be comfortable? I'm your fiancee! Asking you to not sleep with other people isn't comfort it is reality."
And with that, she left it all behind. Finn, their apartment, probably her career too. She called the nearest five-star hotel and placed a reservation. She was done following him in his footsteps. She was Rachel Berry and she could do better than Finn Hudson. She had, once upon a time, done better than Finn. She would move on, she would survive, and though it might hurt she would be stronger for it.
It wasn't supposed to be this way.
He was supposed to be her forever.
So why, despite the betrayal hurting very badly, was she a little relieved?
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
Brittany grinned and bounded up the stairs to the brownstone she shared with her husband of five years. It had been a good day, and maybe she and Blaine could celebrate. His car was already in the garage which was perfect.
Tonight was going to be perfect.
Things had been weird the last few months. She was busier at work than she had ever been before and Blaine had seemed distracted ever since she insisted they hire that new gardener.
"Blaine? I'm home, Babe."
She heard a crash. "Shit. Hey Britt, I'll uh—I'll be just a second."
She looked around curiously. Blaine's favorite bow-tie lay discarded on the counter. That was weird. "Brittany, hi!" Blaine grinned broadly, practically tumbling down the stairs.
Something was off, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She eyed him skeptically. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, yes." He shrugged with a laugh, his head shaking at the same time. "Why wouldn't it be?"
Another crash sent them both running up the stairs to find their gardener, Dave, standing over the end table at the top of the stairs. A lamp she hadn't really ever liked lay broken on the floor.
"Dave?" Scratched her head, trying to ignore the sickening feeling growing in her stomach.
Dave looked at Blaine for help and suddenly her husband deflated.
"Blaine?" Brittany asked, shaking her head. This couldn't be happening. "What's going on?"
"Britt—I was going to tell you." Blaine admitted.
"Tell me what?"
He sighed. "I want a divorce."
The words sent chills up her spine. Could she go back in time? Just have one more day to pretend that her world was not shattering? She wasn't asking for much. Just one more day. "What? We're fine! It's just—"
"Brittany—"
She shook her head, completely aware that she was in hysterical denial. "No, like it's just a rough patch. Its normal—"
"Brittany, I'm gay." Blaine nearly shouted, stopping her rant. "I'm gay, and you deserve to know the truth. Dave and I—"
Suddenly, there it was, all before her. Laid out plain for her to see without any ability for her to misunderstand. But what hurt more, the item that stuck out against it all, was that he wasn't attracted to her. He didn't want her anymore. She shook her head again, they could make it through this. "But we had plenty of sex. Maybe you're bisexual? We could—"
"Brittany—"
"I mean, maybe Dave can join us sometimes?" She was desperate now, spewing ridiculous ideas just in a hope that her life wouldn't change.
David took a step closer to her and went to put his hand on her shoulder sympathetically. "I know this is hard."
"Do you?" She spat back, looking at Blaine incredulously and ripping away from David's attempt at consoling her. "Because I'm pretty sure you don't know how hard this is."
Blaine took her hand in what she guessed was supposed to be a comforting manner but only made her feel like he was talking down to her. "Brittany, that's not going to work."
"Why the hell not?" She threw up her hands, forcing herself not to cry despite the burning at her eyes and the lump in her throat. "We are married, Blaine. You don't just throw that away." They had made promises—vows—and he was just going to give that all away?
She thought they were better than that.
What about all of the things he had promised her? What about their life together?
How could he just pretend that didn't matter?
"Brittany, I love you, I do. I'm just not in love with you." He sighed as if this was the hardest thing he had to do.
"So we'll work on it." She was pleading and begging and it was pathetic but she couldn't help it. Sure they had cracks in the foundation of their marriage. Everybody did. Everybody went through rough times.
They could make it work if they tried.
"There's no working on it. I'm gay." Blaine insisted again. "Like very very gay. I need to be drunk to sleep with you Brittany, and you deserve better than that. You are a beautiful woman. I thought I could keep pretending, but I just can't anymore."
Brittany snorted derisively. "Because I caught you. How long? How long have you been sleeping together?"
Blaine shifted uncomfortably.
"Would you have told me if I hadn't found you? I'm such an idiot!" She pushed him away, the hurt she felt darkening into raw anger as she realized the truth she had been kept from all along. What had she done to deserve this? "Of course you won't have."
"I'm sorry—"
In that moment, she was done. All of the fights, the arguments, the good times, she was just done with it all. If Blaine couldn't even be honest with her, there really was no point. "You want a divorce? Fine. I'll be back in two weeks, I expect you to be gone. Take all your creepy hair gel with you." With that, she spun on her heel and marched out of the house she had bought with her own money and marched back to her car.
How dare he? If this is what marriage meant, she was now deciding she didn't want it anyway.
Had she just been blind this whole time? She had been happy—at least, happy enough. Now it was over, done and gone.
But what to do next?
She knew she could show up at either of her sister's house and they would take her in while she waited for the asshole to leave and take all of his hair care products and skin creams with him.
Quinn would quietly (or maybe not-so-quietly) judge her and Brittany wasn't sure she was prepared for that level of groveling. Puck would make snide comments that he thought she was too stupid to pick up on while grumbling about Quinn not doing this or that the way he wanted her to. Quinn would make bitchy comments back to him that would go completely over his head and he would smile at her. She wasn't sure she could deal with their passive aggressive arguments all week.
Charlie probably would just pat her knee awkwardly while Santana cooked up a storm and cursed Blaine's name in every way imaginable. But two weeks with Charlie and Santana seemed like suburban-themed torture.
Staying with her parents would be humiliating, but they would coddle her and baby her, and probably let her get away without doing very much housework.
Off to her parents' it was.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
Noah Puckerman blew out a large breath as he finished, a stupid grin on his face as he rolled off of her. "Babe, that was—wow."
Quinn sighed, agitated. "Yep."
He turned to his side and went to put his arm around her. She shrugged off his attempt to cuddle, annoyed. Why was it so easy for him? A couple of pumps in and out of her and he was done.
She wasn't sure when the last time was that she had really good sex.
To be fair, Noah was the only one she had ever been with. So maybe never.
He did, after all, insist on still being called Puck despite the fact that both she and Beth were Puckermans too. Sometimes he could be really dense.
He frowned at her attempt to block his contact. "Remember, I'm busy all weekend. You promised that you would handle Beth so I can finish—"
"I know." She cut him off, turning her back to him. "You told me." 'About a million times.' She wanted to add, but didn't.
She didn't want an argument tonight.
She could practically feel his frown. It annoyed her, to no end, how he would rather assume he knew what was going on rather than just ask her. "I know I've been working a lot, but I might get a promotion."
'Good for you.' She wanted to say, her voice would be dripping with acerbic venom. Instead she plastered a grin on her face and turned toward him. "It's okay." She mentally cursed herself for already having used sex to get out of one conversation, because now her arsenal was limited. "You've just been really busy." She settled on.
"I know, but I promise I'll be more involved. Maybe we leave Beth with Charlie and Santana. You and I could spend a couple of days together?"
She grinned despite the urge to roll her eyes. In truth, she liked it more when Puck was working. She sometimes wished for the life before she decided to be Puck's arm candy. When she worked to support him and he made money to spend on whatever was his current ridiculous obsession. She used to be someone important. She helped design buildings and worked on plans for a skyscraper. They had made twice as much when she was working than they were now. Now she was nothing more than a housewife.
And maybe a vacation with Puck would be nice. Maybe it meant that they could do something exciting.
But it also meant that she would have to pretend and go to the effort of slapping on the perfect Stepford-wife persona. A vacation alone with him? She wasn't sure she could handle that. "That would be great." She replied, then allowed her face to fall. "Oh, I don't know. Jack is still not even potty trained yet, do you think we could ask that of Santana and Charlie?"
She saw the wheels turning in his brain. If they left Beth with Charlie, Charlie would expect them to watch their kids. In truth, she owed Santana and Charlie years of babysitting that they would probably never collect on. But watching Mia and Jack meant they would be watching them overnight.
And Puck hated changing diapers.
(She did too).
Even though he probably wouldn't lift a finger to help her anyway.
"Family dinners together every night this week." He suggested instead.
"That would be perfect." She agreed instantly.
He kissed her chastely before turning to fall asleep quickly. "I love you."
She turned her back to him and wiped where her lips had touched hers.
This was just a phase.
They would get past it.
And everything would be perfect again.
X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X
Charlie laid on the bed in her basketball shorts and a ratty old t-shirt, intently focused on the game in front of her and finishing this mission before going to bed. Santana came into the room and plopped down beside her.
"Kids asleep?" Charlie asked without looking over. She saw Santana nod out of the corner of her eye. "Nice work." She held out her hand and felt Santana slap it.
"Thanks." Santana settled against the pillows. "What's this one?"
Charlie chuckled. "Grand Theft Auto." Even after years together, Santana still was a complete novice when it came to video games. It was nice, simple even, that her wife let her blow off steam after a long day of work with some time to play. It wasn't every night, and sometimes it wasn't even long, but she appreciated the effort.
Especially since the most Santana ever did was watch her play.
Still, they had the whole setup in their bedroom. Santana worried about the kids being exposed to the violent games Charlie liked to play. In their room, they could control the exposure. The kids had their own gaming system downstairs, but this oftentimes felt like Charlie's sanctuary. With Santana by her side, sometimes she might even call it heaven.
"Ahh." Santana sighed with recognition. She stood and Charlie could tell she was getting ready for bed herself, going through the regular routine. After a few moments, Santana came out of the bathroom and Charlie paused her game. "Oh—"
"What?" Santana eyed her skeptically.
Charlie shrugged with a small smile, wondering for the millionth time what she had done to get so lucky. She loved this version of Santana, the slightly dorky one wearing blue and grey Tardis pajama bottoms and her ratty old NYU t-shirt with her thick framed glasses perched lightly on her nose. "You're wearing your retainer. I guess that means we aren't doing it tonight?"
"Oh." Santana took out the piece and looked a little embarrassed. She definitely didn't feel sexy tonight. But if Charlie wanted to, maybe she could change. "Sorry, I mean, we totally can if you want. You just—I didn't think you wanted to—"
"No, it's fine. I'm tired anyway." Charlie waved away Santana's concern and smiled at the relieved look on her wife's face. "Is it okay if I finish this mission?"
"Yeah. I want to read this chapter anyway." Santana shrugged and grabbed her book from the coffee table at her bedside. "We'll do it tomorrow."
"I'm going to hold you to that." Charlie teased and Santana slipped into bed beside her. She winced when Santana's cold feet slid up against her calves, but made no comment.
Santana pulled out her phone and updated their shared calendar. "There, now it's on the schedule."
"Sweet." Charlie grinned and turned back to her game. Sometimes she thought that life couldn't get any better. When Santana's hand rested lightly on her thigh, she was sure of it.
Married life was awesome.
