Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. I do not own the characters of Glee. I do not deny my obsession with Glee.
Warning: CONTAINS FEMSLASH. Don't like, don't read!
italics = past
normal = present
This is my first fanfic, so try to go easy on me. :)
Ever since Brittana began, I've wanted to write my own storyline for them so.. without further ado...
"To The Moon and Back"
Her breath hitched in her throat when she saw those bright blue eyes. She gazed into the shimmering cerulean orbs and felt as though she could drown in a flood of memories. A cinematic cascade of light and sound resurfaced from the deepest, most private sectors of her mind, and the clarity with which she perceived these cherished images was almost unnerving. She reeled at the sensation and the intensity with which it caused her to become detached from reality.
In that moment, the universe finally made sense. The sun shone brighter. The air smelled sweeter. The birds sang louder. And it was all because of her.
Santana Lopez was irrevocably, unequivocally in love.
"Britt, wait up!," Santana called out, nearly out of breath.
The blond seemed to hesitate before she resolved to stop running. The many years of dancing had left the soles of her feet calloused from the wear and tear of her sneakers, which at that moment—having run out of the gymnasium and onto the hot pavement without shoes—she was very thankful for. Huffing, she turned around to face her best friend.
Santana came to a halt and instantly crossed her arms. "Why'd you up and run out of practice like that?" the Latina questioned accusingly. "Coach is gonna make the entire squad do wind sprints again!"
Brittany fiddled with her thumbs behind her back and rocked on her heels, trying to avoid all possible eye contact with Santana. She really didn't want her to be mad! Maybe it was the constant exposure to the combination of stale air and dust bunnies circulating in the gym that made her especially restless, but something within her snapped on this particular day. It took all the will power Brittany could muster to answer truthfully, "I can't be a Cheerio anymore, San."
Utterly bewildered, the brunette raised her eyebrows and unfolded her arms, gingerly placing her manicured hands on her hips instead. She didn't know what to make of this situation. Brittany was used to being told what to do. They had been the best of friends since third grade, and Santana was the sole decision maker in their relationship. Yes, she could be a little over controlling at times, but Brittany needed to be controlled—now more than ever. She would be lost in a sea of judgmental, malicious teenagers without Santana. They would undoubtedly take advantage of Brittany's innocence, and Santana had to protect her somehow. Now she wanted to trade her one-way ticket to popularity for an extended stay in loserville? No fucking chance in hell would she let Brittany reverse all of the progress they had made climbing the social ladder at McKinley High. Santana offset her jaw, contemplating how to best approach the topic at hand.
"San, please don't be mad," Brittany's eyes darted up to meet the brunette's, but she quickly retracted her gaze to stare at her bare feet once again. Santana lost her temper with people on a daily basis, but Brittany had never been on the receiving end of her verbal thrashings. The fact that there was a first for everything scared her.
"Brits, I just want what's best for you—for both of us. Being Cheerios makes us the hottest pieces of ass at this school." Santana flipped her ponytail with her left hand and brought it back to dust the metaphorical dust off her shoulder, which made Brittany grin. "Plus, you love being a cheerleader," Santana said definitively as she took a step closer to the blond. "Do you really want to give it up?"
Several moments passed as Brittany thought of a response, still being very attentive of the grooves in the pavement. She didn't know what to say. Brittany wanted to be a Cheerio so badly—dancing used to be her top favorite thing ever! Next to coloring and singing and Lord Tubbington, of course. She felt tears well up in her eyes as she palmed her forehead, trying to make sense of the million thoughts whirling inside her head. Everything was so confusing now!
Santana sensed Brittany's change in demeanor immediately. She lifted her hand under her best friend's chin and tilted her head so their eyes would meet. Brittany sniffled as a single tear spilled down her cheek.
"Britt-Britt, it's ok. You can tell me," Santana soothingly rubbed the blond's shoulders. "Why do you have to quit?"
"I think I found something I like more than being on the Cheerios," Brittany admitted, anxious to see the Latina's reaction.
To Brittany's complete surprise, Santana threw her head back and laughed as she extended her arms out to pull the blond into an endearing hug. Smiling, Santana broke the embrace and gingerly used her thumbs to wipe the small tears from her best friend's face. "Honey, you don't have to stop loving one thing for something you might love even more. You know that, right?"
Impossibly stumped, Brittany furrowed her brow and shook her head.
The brunette wracked her brains, trying to put it in a way Brittany would understand. Her best friend wasn't stupid by any means, and anyone who said otherwise would be in for a whole world of hurt—Lima Heights Adjacent style. It just took her longer to understand certain things, that's all.
"Well, you love tater tots. And you love orange juice, right?"
Brittany nodded her head furiously, suddenly remembering that it was almost time for lunch.
"Don't you remember when you made us orange juice and tater tot smoothies?" Santana internally cringed at the memory. Brittany had downed the entire glass in one gulp, but the brunette had struggled to keep her gag reflex in check just smelling the concoction. "They were both delicious even when you put them together."
"San stop, you're making me so hungry!" Brittany exclaimed as her stomach grumbled, almost as if on cue.
Santana beamed as her friend clutched her tummy in pseudo-agony. Brittany was adorable. Simply adorable. She couldn't possibly find a word that fit her better. The blond was always so oblivious to the world around her, lost in her sweet childlike thoughts. I mean, the girl was convinced that heart attacks were caused by loving too much for Christ's sake. There wasn't a negative bone in her entire body. Santana always figured that that was why she was always being a bitch to everyone—she had to be bitchy enough for the both of them.
They were like yin and yang, peanut butter and jelly, breadsticks and marinara sauce. They complemented one another in every way possible. In fact, the brunette had not long ago come to the realization that she couldn't imagine what her life would be like without Brittany, and that scared the living shit out of her. Santana Lopez was not dependent on other people. She was a strong woman capable of handling herself, and yet here she was, actually falling for her best friend of all people—who happened to be a woman… with rockin' boobs and a smokin' hot bod to boot.
It had occurred to Santana that being on the Cheerios was more important than ever before. If anyone ever caught wind that she had a lesbian crush on her best friend (not that she was about to scream it down the halls or begin the grueling transition to flannel shirts any time soon) she'd certainly be demoted to the lower levels of the community totem pole, but she figured she might retain some kind of reputation if she could keep her coveted spot on the squad.
Plus, Santana didn't even know how Brittany would react if she ever found out. Would she be freaked out knowing her best friend sneaks peaks in the locker room and constantly thinks about nothing short of jumping her bones? Probably. And Santana wouldn't risk losing Brittany—she was the only constant in her seemingly fucked up life. Ultimately she'd decided that she'd rather have Brittany as a friend than not at all.
"So do you get what I'm trying to say?" Santana blinked several times.
Brittany thought about it for a moment, "Yes. You want me to make you an orange-tot smoothie for lunch!" She grabbed the brunette's hands and jumped up and down with excitement, "I knew you liked them, San! I knew it!"
Santana couldn't help but smile. Simple, adorable, bodacious Brittany was officially the bane of her existence. "No, Brit," she chuckled. "I'm saying that you don't have to quit Cheerios."
"Really?" Brittany sighed, sounding very relieved.
The brunette extended a finger to gently touch the tip of Brittany's perfect nose. "Don't ever let anything or anyone hold you back from doing what you love, sweetie," the brunette whispered sincerely.
Brittany's heart just about exploded with excitement. This was the best day ever! She couldn't wait to tell Lord Tubbington!
Without warning, Brittany closed the gap between the two girls and crashed her lips onto Santana's, whose eyes flew wide open at the sudden gesture. The kiss lasted only a second, but it left the Latina breathless. Santana had kissed countless boys, but they NEVER made her feel like that. A wave of electricity spread from her lips to the tips of her toes, simultaneously turning her legs to jelly and her brain to mush. As they broke apart, Santana's eyes practically bore holes into the blond, searching for answers as her mouth opened and closed several times, trying to form syllables but failing miserably. She was at a complete loss for words.
Brittany broke Santana out of her daze by grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the gymnasium, "Come on, San! We're gonna miss the rest of practice!"
Finally regaining her ability to speak, Santana all but croaked, "W-wait, B. What was that?"
"A sweet lady kiss," Brittany giggled. "Duh!"
Santana mentally slapped herself for using such an ambiguous question. "No, I know that, but what made you want to kiss me?" She touched two fingers to her lips for the briefest of moments, hoping—praying even—that this wasn't all a dream.
"I thought the squad would get jealous if they knew I loved you more than them and cheerleading and dancing and skydiving and stuff. But now I don't feel so bad." Brittany linked her pinky with the Latina's once again and gave her a lopsided grin, "You're the tater tot to my orange juice, Sanny."
It was the simplest statement, but the raw truth behind it made Santana's chest swell with adoration. She had never before felt such an overwhelming amount of affection for another human being. The brunette flashed her pearly white teeth in a smile that spread from ear to ear before leaning in to capture Brittany's lips in another searing kiss.
Social hierarchy be damned.
Santana ran her aged fingers through beautiful blond locks. They were impossibly soft, like silk.
She was captivated by the divine sensation, but the sparkling gold wedding band situated against tanned skin seized her attention for a fleeting moment. She could scarcely make out the words that had been engraved into the priceless relic, but she didn't need to see them to know what it said. Santana's eyes fluttered, and the one side of her mouth curled into a small grin.
The brunette moved to gently trace the outline of the girl's ear and used her thumb to caress the smooth, supple skin of her cheek for several moments. Santana noticed the bright blue eyes still locked her own, searching. For what, she didn't know, but there would be time to figure it out.
One thing was certain, however. She was absolutely gorgeous, and she was her's.
Santana couldn't wait to get back to her apartment and plop onto her couch with a large glass (or several glasses) of wine. To say that she was pissed because she had to spend an extra 2 hours around campus today—on her birthday of all days (of all FRIDAYS!)—was a total understatement. Birthdays had never really been special to her, but she always welcomed any excuse to slack off.
After what seemed like an eternity of walking, she finally arrived at her front door, dug through her purse for her keys, and let herself inside.
Suddenly, a mysterious figure came tearing around the corner of the doorway, catching Santana off guard. She was more than ready to defend herself, reflexively squaring off in a boxer's stance, wondering if she could miraculously summon the can of mace buried deep in her bag. That was, until she heard the intruder yell, "Surprise!"
No. Fucking. Way.
"Brittany?"
The blond ascended upon the Latina with lightning fast speed and consumed her slim frame in a bear hug. The pair embraced for several seconds, immersed in the distinct touch and smell of one another.
It was Santana who pulled away first, "I-I don't understand! Why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be in Seattle? Wait… how did you get into my apartment? You know what, I don't even care." Her mouth was running a mile a minute. "God, I missed you, Britt. I missed you so damn much."
The darker girl cupped her lover's face and peppered her with sweet kisses. Since Santana started college at Ohio State nearly two years ago, she had only been able to see her girlfriend a handful of times. Of course they had holiday breaks and summer to spend together, but Brittany's schedule was unpredictable and often conflicted with Santana's. Ever since she got her big break as a choreographer right out of high school, she was flying to a different city just about every other day. Santana was more than thrilled with Brittany's success, but she had to admit that being apart was a definite strain on their relationship. There was temptation around every corner at college. But she never looked twice at any of those girls—her Britt-Britt was all she needed and more.
"I wanted to surprise you on your birthday! I've actually had it planned for months."
Santana laughed, "Well, it's the best gift I could have ever asked for." She grabbed the dancer's hand and pulled her toward the living room. "Come on, let's catch up over some Rocky Road and Merlot."
However, Brittany stayed rooted to the ground. The Latina furrowed her brow, giving her girlfriend an incredulous look, but her expression softened when she saw the blond staring back, undressing her with those bright blue eyes. A goofy smirk made its way to Santana's lips.
"San, we have all weekend to talk," Brittany said huskily and stepped closer to Santana. The tone sent chills up and down the brunette's spine. She knew where this was headed. "I want to give you your birthday present first." Reaching into her butt pocket, Brittany pulled out a tiny red bow and placed it on top of her head.
Santana exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding. It had been 5 long, torturous months since they'd done the nasty, and suddenly she had no intentions of waiting any longer.
In one swift movement, Santana had Brittany up against the nearest wall, her mouth attacking the blond's and her hands grabbing any and every part of her lover's body they managed to get ahold of. Their tongues battled one another for dominance, and Santana gave a throaty moan when Brittany used her teeth to gently tug on her bottom lip.
The Latina abandoned her jacket as fast as she could, desperately needing to escape the confines of her clothing. Brittany's practiced hands found the hem of Santana's tank top and forcefully yanked it over her head, breaking their passionate kiss for only a moment. They had 5 months of catching up to do, after all.
Santana intertwined her hands in the dancer's hair, massaging her scalp encouragingly as their long-overdue make out session intensified. A different pair of hands found its way to Santana's firm ass and squeezed hard, making the Latina gasp. Taking full advantage of this small break from their frenzied kissing, Brittany ran her tongue up Santana's jaw line, causing the smaller girl's spine to tingle, and when the blond nibbled at her pulse point, the brunette's breath hitched in her throat, a contented moan escaping her lips.
"Britts, you're way overdressed right now," Santana panted.
The blond halted her assault on her lover's sweet spot to remove her own shirt, under which—to Santana's surprise and utter delight—she wasn't wearing a bra. "Is this better, birthday girl?"
"Much," the Latina said before descending her mouth onto Brittany's once again.
However, the blond suddenly dipped low, grabbing Santana around the thighs and tossing her over her shoulder as if she were a ragdoll. The brunette squealed and thrashed as strong arms carried her into the living room. Once she made it to her destination, Brittany flipped Santana onto the couch and lay flat on top of her, effectively pinning her to the spot. Both girls groaned at the sudden skin-to-skin contact.
Brittany snaked her arms between the two of them and fondled Santana's breasts over her lacy black bra. The dancer smiled to herself as she saw the Latina's jaw go slack and felt her back arch at an impossible angle. To Brittany, there was no greater satisfaction in the world than feeling Santana Lopez write in pleasure beneath her.
The blond sat up abruptly, deciding to tease her lover for just a little bit longer. But she wasn't at all prepared for the guttural moan Santana made at the loss of contact… or for her to unclasp her own bra and carelessly throw it across the room. If possible, the brunette arched her back even further, nearly bending her body in half, silently begging Brittany to continue her exploration.
"Oh, do you want me to do something, San?"
The Latina tangled her fingers into her own hair, desperate, "A-anything. Just, please." She had lost all ability to form coherent sentences.
Smirking, Brittany dipped low, placing small kisses above Santana's belly button as her hands ascended, caressing the sides of her bare breasts. The brunette's labored breathing became painfully erratic. Brittany's tongue left a searing hot trail up Santana's toned stomach as she raked her fingernails against her flanks. Santana could feel the dancer's hot breath against her chest, and she gulped, sensing what was coming next.
The couple stared at one another for a brief moment before Brittany licked her lips and engulfed Santana's right nipple into her mouth. "Oh God, B," the brunette hissed as her dark brown eyes rolled into the back of her head. Brittany's touch was Santana's kryptonite—and she was hopelessly addicted.
The dancer flicked her tongue across the tan girl's other nipple and reached down to fumble with her lover's jeans, attempting in vain to pull them off. Squirming in a state of pure bliss, Santana raised her hips, aiding Brittany in her quest. Once off, Brittany hiked up her skirt and pressed her muscled thigh against Santana's smoldering center. The Latina gasped at the sudden pressure.
Brittany could feel the heat radiating between the brunette's thighs on her skin. She ceased her oral ministrations and growled, "Well I'd say someone's a little turned on."
Santana nodded her head furiously, moaning as the blond shifted her weight.
In actuality, the brunette was caught in a limbo between pleasure and pain; she was so turned on it physically hurt.
"Brittany I NEED you. Please, I can't take anymore teasing."
The dancer was stunned by Santana's use of her full name. Damn, she meant business.
Brittany bent forward slightly to kiss her girlfriend and smirked, "Only because it's your birthday."
The Latina grinned. Fate had certainly dealt her a winning hand—the blond was way too good to her.
The dancer hooked her thumbs under the lacey fabric of Santana's panties and slid them down her slender legs. Brittany kissed and nuzzled her inner thighs, so tantalizingly close to the site of her release. The brunette whimpered in anticipation, positive that she would most certainly die of this sweet, slow torture.
Finally, in one broad stroke, Brittany ran her tongue up Santana's slick folds, lingering at her bundle of nerves.
"Fuck," she said breathlessly as she bucked her hips closer to Brittany's face. "More."
The blond's ministrations continued, delving her tongue into the Latina's crevice, bringing Santana closer and closer to her release. Brittany, too, was in heaven—both the taste and the smell of her girlfriend were intoxicating, and the entirely erotic sounds coming from Santana's mouth only egged her on. She took a small break to observe her lover. Brittany noticed that her eyes were closed, and her mouth was slightly agape. Her chest was rising and falling at a quick pace, an indication that she was very close—she wouldn't be able to resist much longer. A thin sheet of sweat coated the Latina's body, proof of her struggle. In that moment, Brittany was certain that a more beautiful girl physically could not exist.
The exhausted Latina lifted her heavy eyelids, sensing that Brittany was watching her. She saw the dancer give her a lopsided grin as she dipped her head low. Santana giggled but soon snapped her eyes shut once again at the sensation of Brittany's flicking tongue, "Yesss! Right there, Britt."
Abruptly, Brittany captured Santana's sensitive bud between her lips and sucked hard. The Latina threw her head back, tangling her fingers into the blond's tresses, screaming to the heavens. She felt all the blood in her body pool into her abdomen as Brittany's prying teeth sent her over the edge. The dancer's mouth remained glued to Santana as she rode out her wave of pleasure, milking her for every last drop.
Santana came down from her high, breathing hard. She flashed Brittany a toothy grin, "I love you so much, Britt." She reached down to cup her lover's face. "You don't even know."
The blond crawled up the Latina's body, coming face to face with her girlfriend. She leaned over to capture her voluptuous lips in a kiss, "I think I do."
A wicked smile plastered Santana's face, "Let me return the fav—," she paused, looking around suspiciously, "Is something… chirping?"
Brittany's eyes bugged as she jumped off the couch, panicked, "Shit! Gordon!"
Dumbfounded, Santana sat herself up to watch the blond run down the hall and pull something out of her duffel bag.
The Latina could see Brittany whispering to whatever was in her hands, and as she came closer, she could make out a tiny ball of yellow fur cradled in her hands. Brittany knelt in front of Santana, extending her arms to reveal a sweet baby duckling, "Happy 20th, Sanny." The dancer was beaming as she placed the tiny bird into Santana's open palms, "Do you love him?"
Though the brunette seriously doubted that her landlord would allow her to keep a duck in her apartment, she could only smile and murmur, "To the moon and back, babe."
Santana found herself hypnotized by the blond's sincere gaze, but she broke from the stupor for a blessed second to place a chaste kiss upon her forehead. There really weren't any words available to convey what she was feeling at the moment, so she let her lips linger, attempting to pour her entire soul into the gesture.
Wordlessly, Santana said that she would protect her. That she would always be there for her. That she would never stop loving her.
When she pulled back, the blond was still watching intently, but an earnest grin had arisen in response to the kiss.
The sight made the Latina's heart melt. Yep, she knew she would never be able to resist that face.
She was Santana's everything.
It was a gloriously temperate summer night in Ohio, where wedding guests were mingling underneath a reception tent. Eyelet cloths covered the tabletops, beautiful orchids topping the center of each one. The sun was setting ceremoniously, casting a hazy orange glow over the entire scene. Numerous torches blazing about the area contributed to the already romantic atmosphere.
A faint tapping of the microphone was heard above the conversational chatter. "If everyone could gather round, the happy couple would like to share their first dance," the DJ announced. The crowd clapped, awaiting the big moment.
Santana reacted first to the applause and extended a hand to her wife (her wife!) so they could hurriedly make their way to the dance floor.
Ever since she first saw Brittany in the church that afternoon, the Latina physically could not take her eyes off of the beauty. She was absolutely breathtaking in her white gown—the sweetheart neckline accentuating her long neck and her blond locks curled to perfection, cascading across her bare shoulders. And on top of everything else, when she smiled… God, the whole damn room came to life.
There was nothing Santana wouldn't give to stay frozen in this moment for the rest of eternity.
The rapturous pair reached their destination just as Elton John's "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" began to trickle from the speakers. There were many approving "awws" and renewed applause when the two women began to sway.
Santana took the lead, resting her hand on Brittany's slender hip. She pulled the blond close and tenderly whispered into her ear, "Couldn't have picked a better song, B."
Brittany pecked her wife (her WIFE!) on the cheek and buried her face into the crook of her neck, "I couldn't have picked a better wife, San."
The blond truly felt with all of her heart that she could not have found a more perfect, or more beautiful, person to share her everything with. The setting sun cast orange light over the entire reception, but it seemed to explicitly radiate off of Santana's tanned skin, giving her an almost angelic appearance. With her shimmering jewelry and dark hair styled into an elegant bun, she looked like royalty. A goddess, even. Brittany loved Santana with every fiber of her being, and she knew she would never feel any differently.
"Yeah, I guess you're right about that one," the Latina agreed.
Brittany chuckled and picked her head up. Their eyes locked, each woman trying to live exclusively in the moment, lost in one another. They were married… for better, for worse, till death do they part. The fact that they would spend the rest of their lives together wasn't a new concept by any means, but solidifying that promise—surrounded by hundreds of supportive friends and family members—was almost overwhelming.
A rogue strand of hair fell in front of Santana's face, which Brittany returned to its proper place behind the Latina's ear. "Smart AND funny. I don't know how I got so lucky," the blond smirked.
"Well you, Ms. Bread-winner, just inherited my yet-to-be-employed ass and endless school loans," Santana raised her eyebrows. "Still feelin' lucky?"
The dancer threw her arms around her partner's neck and pressed their foreheads together, "As long as I have you, I'll always feel lucky."
Santana pulled back, beaming at her radiant wife. Off in the distance she could see a gang of children chasing after a clearly terrified Gordon, which made her laugh. She and Brittany had just celebrated his 3rd birthday a few weeks ago, but the blond had insisted on recognizing his age in duck years… which was apparently 41. Just another one of a billion quirks the Latina adored about Brittany.
The high school sweethearts held one another for a while, Brittany humming along with the music, both of them eager and anxious to see what the future had in store. Surely, if the present was any indicator of what was to come, the two women were in for a lifetime of joy and happiness.
The brunette thought back to the days when they were love-struck teenagers and recalled everything else that lead to this point: their wedding day. There were several rough patches, of course, but for every hardship they endured, the love they felt for each other easily overruled petty arguments. Santana could never stay mad at Brittany for long—it was almost against her nature to be angry with the blond. Nevertheless, it seemed as though for every bad day the couple encountered, there were hundreds of joyful ones that followed.
And today was easily the happiest day of Santana's life—let alone of their relationship. She had a breathtakingly beautiful bride wrapped in her strong arms, with nothing but uninterrupted happiness to look forward to.
There were a couple obstacles they would have to tackle together, like settling into their first house and actually learning to cook without using the microwave, but Santana was confident they would make it on their own. She had always told Brittany that she would never let anything come between them, and she intended on staying true to her word. Nothing could ever make her leave the blond's side.
However, what Brittany didn't know was that Santana wanted to start a family more than anything else in the world. The Latina had always thought that she hated kids, but the idea of raising a child with Brittany was growing on her more and more each day. The mental image of a mini Brittany or a mini version of herself (God forbid) running around always made her giggle.
There would be time to discuss the matter later on, but Santana wanted to first secure a stable job so she could provide for her family. No way would she be able to refrain from incessantly spoiling the little brat, and she desperately needed the financial security to fund her splurging.
Snapping out of her reverie, Santana was surprised to feel tears well up in her eyes. The brunette had never before felt so much love for her wife. She beamed at Brittany, who endearingly returned the smile.
"I love you so much, B," the Latina gushed. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of saying that."
"Love you too, San," Brittany raised the back of her hand to Santana and wriggled her fingers, flaunting her gleaming wedding band, "To the moon and back." Engraving the phrase on their rings had been Santana's idea, and Brittany couldn't have been more delighted at the idea of eternalizing her favorite idiom on the symbol of their marriage.
Just as the song was ending, Brittany offered her pinky finger to the brunette, who brought her hand up to complete the link with her own. As best friends, the pair had coined this sign of affection in the third grade, but neither could have ever guessed that they would be doing it nearly two decades later, wearing white gowns and saying their "I do's." Funny how things work out.
With their pinkies still intertwined and the wedding guests clapping louder than ever before, the newlyweds met halfway to share a tender kiss.
It was the perfect end to the first day of the rest of their lives.
The first drops of rain battered the glass as Santana glided toward the window to assess the incoming storm. By the looks of the choppy gray sky, she didn't think it would last long.
A contented sigh brought her attention back to the 7lb 8oz, 21" long bundle of joy tucked securely in her arms, and she continued to ogle the infant. Her baby girl was barely two hours old, and she already had the brunette wrapped around her tiny finger. The feeling was like nothing the older woman had ever felt before—she would never be able to refute the myth about love at first sight ever again.
Santana gently tugged on the infant's knit hat to cover her tiny ears. The little one was finally drifting off to sleep, bundled up in her pink crochet blanket as the Latina pressed her lips to her rosy cheek.
Bouncing slightly, the new mother soothingly rocked her baby back and forth, humming a lullaby her own mother used to put her to bed when she was little. A gentle clap of thunder rolled across the sky as more rain pelted the windowpane. Maybe the storm would be staying for a while, after all.
Due to unforeseen complications, the brunette had failed to wrap her head around what had taken place over the past few hours. It wasn't until she turned around to see Brittany's now-empty hospital bed that she remembered.
The sweat pouring down Brittany's face. The doctor's words of encouragement. The first cries of her baby girl. The tears of joy streaming from her wife's eyes…
Then the tightness around her hand suddenly going slack. The alarms. The frantic nurses. And then the sound of her world crashing down around her—the heart monitor flatlining.
Glancing down at her slumbering baby girl, Santana felt her vision blur. The initial shock of losing her beloved Brittany had finally worn off, and reality was catching up with her. Fast.
A soft sob escaped her lips, salty tears streaming down her face and onto the delicate package cradled in her arms. "Everything will be alright, baby," the Latina choked, trying to reassure herself more than the infant. "Mommy's here."
It was so incredibly unfair. In one moment, Brittany was there, anxiously waiting to hold her precious baby girl for the first time… and then gone the next.
Just like that.
The doctors had done everything they could to resuscitate the blond, but the damage was done. And all Santana could do was watch from afar as the love of her life slipped away. She didn't wail. She didn't scream. She just watched helplessly, stunned into silence as a waterfall of tears spilled down her cheeks.
A nurse had stepped away from the settling chaos to console a weeping Santana, who had taken refuge in the corner of the delivery room, her hand clasped over her mouth and her eyes unfocused. The kind woman's condolences fell on deaf ears, but the Latina was able to single out "cerebral hemorrhage" and "died instantly" from the long discourse of medical jargon.
Currently, with her vision clouded by fresh tears, Santana observed her slumbering daughter. Those eyes, that hair, even the lopsided grin—she was a spitting image of her mother. The Latina sniffled and gave her baby a sad smile. It took every last bit of self-control she had to not crumple to the floor and just cry for weeks on end.
The sudden memory of the day they found out they would both be mothers instigated a renewed onslaught of tears. In their fit of excitement, they had somehow managed to break several very expensive pieces of neonatal medical equipment. The fact that she would never be able to physically share similar joyous moments with Brittany again broke her heart into a billion irreparable pieces. All Santana had to hold onto were her memories.
And now the baby nestled snugly in her arms.
Even now, all Santana could see when she looked at the infant was Brittany. For the past nine months, Santana had relentlessly prayed to whoever was out there that their baby would look like her mother… and not the rando sperm donor they had picked together.
Inwardly, Santana was beaming—her prayers had undeniably been answered.
Outwardly, she was sobbing uncontrollably—Brittany would never be able see their beautiful baby girl grow up.
The little one was stirring, rousing from her surprisingly peaceful nap. Santana propped the infant up with her left arm so that she could rest her delicate head on her mother's shoulder. The Latina made her way over to the padded rocking chair in the corner of the room and gingerly sat down, rubbing the tiny newborn's back with her free hand.
Gradually, the brunette collected herself, but her face was puffy and blotched from hours of continuous crying. She had to be strong, for her daughter's sake.
Santana was positive that time would never be able to completely heal the emotional wounds of losing her soul mate so unexpectedly, but the blond baby was the remedy that would surely fill the colossal void in her heart.
The Latina never pegged herself as the motherly type, but fortunately Brittany had prepared her well. Santana hoped that somehow, somewhere Brittany was watching them proudly. She hoped she was doing everything her departed couldn't.
It was going to be a long, arduous path raising a kid by herself, but the brunette knew deep down that she wouldn't be taking the journey alone. Brittany would be by her side every step of the way, in spirit. Santana had never believed in ghosts, but it gave her a tremendous amount of comfort trusting that a person's soul lived on after death.
A knock on the hospital room's door interrupted Santana's thoughts. She recognized the kind nurse that had been in the delivery room a few hours prior.
"She's beautiful," the woman said as she walked to where the pair was sitting.
The baby cooed, almost in approval. Santana gave her a toothy grin, "Yeah, she definitely has her mother's looks." Tears were threatening to spill once again as she placed a sweet kiss on the infant's forehead.
"Have you decided on a name?"
Santana didn't hesitate to answer, "Emily." She looked up at the older woman with watery eyes, "She's our darling little Emily."
"It suits her," the nurse gave an apologetic smile as she nodded and exited the room, not knowing what else she could say to comfort the grieving mother.
Santana wiped away a stray tear as she stood up. She slowly walked toward the window, noticing that it had finally stopped raining. However, a small patch of condensation caught her eye. It looked as though someone had breathed on the glass scarcely moments ago, and the frosty edges were already beginning to shrink.
As she came closer to the window, Santana could make out a tiny heart that had somehow materialized in the center.
The Latina refused to blink, fearing her wearied mind was playing a cruel trick on her. She reached out to touch her fingertips to the condensation, and sure enough, it was real. Grinning from ear to ear, Santana stared at the misshapen heart as it slowly faded away.
Then, she surprised herself as she giggled. There was no denying it now.
Brittany would be coming home, after all.
Did I trick ya? :) I reallyyyyy didn't want to put this under the tragedy category, just to add to the shock factor. Try not to kill me for killing Brittany.. but thanks for reading! Also, I should stress that this is a oneshot, meaning I do not plan on continuing with this story.