Back by overwhelmingly popular demand, my FtM trans!Santana fic!

2025 is the CURRENT year, or 'present day' for this story. Some chapters will be in this 'present day' timeline, while others will take place at random points in the past. For ease of reading (and since I can't commit to a definite 'pattern'), I will label 'present day/flashback' in the chapter title/header, along with who's POV it's from.

Since Santana eventually becomes Santino, chapters from their POV will be labeled simply as 'San'. This is to avoid giving away the point at which she makes the transition. 'Present day' chapters are in chronological order, while flashback chapters jump around.

This fic also follows canon up until 3x04, so everything that happened on the show before that episode also happened in the backstory of these characters. That includes, but is not limited to: who they dated, what types of clothing they wore and what activities they were involved in.

Also, I have my reasons for choosing the name Santino. Please don't message me saying I should have used Santiago or some other variant, ok? It'll make sense eventually.

Chapter 01

Present Day - Brittany

The bathroom is eerily quiet as you run your fingers through your fully saturated, long, blonde locks. Excess conditioner clings to your palms as you scrape your nails over your scalp, and you momentarily situate them directly beneath the shower head, letting the force of the surprisingly still hot water clean them for you. Not liking the silence, you begin humming the first tune to pop into your head.

"We shoulda brought the small iPod speakers." You pause in your melody to shout across the steamy bathroom. There's no response but you can hear items being shuffled around on the expansive hotel sink and know San's at least listening. Shrugging your shoulders, you continue on with your song, adding a few lyrics here and there as you lean forward and let the water rinse the last of the product from your now fully cleansed hair.

Turning off the taps, you take a step back and begin squeezing the water from your hair, not wanting to use too many of the hotel's towels on just yourself. Brushing your damp hair behind your ears, you grin as you stare down at your toes, wiggling them beneath the water of the slowly draining bathtub. As your eyes travel back upwards, you can't help but pause at the forming bump that is your abdomen. Running both your hands delicately over your swollen stomach, you unconsciously begin humming again.

"San, wanna hand me a towel?" Pushing at the shower curtain slightly with one hand, you outstretch the other, gripping the air expectantly. Only there's no movement in your direction, much less anything being pressed into your grasp. Frowning, you toss open the curtain fully and wince as the steam that had been mostly contained in your half of the bathroom begins to travel towards your silent and unresponsive partner.

"Oh, don't you dare shave!" You exclaim suddenly, your eyes focusing in on your lover, poised at the sink, razor in hand. Stepping carefully out of the tub, you reach for a clean towel and hastily wrap it around your body, tucking the ends together over your chest. "Two years! It took you two years!" Reaching the sink, you easily maneuver the throw away razor from San's hand, dropping it in the trash can beneath the counter.

"Brit.. I.." Brown eyes suddenly turn to you, searching your face for reassurance as the person you love more than life itself starts to tremble. Sighing, you wrap your arms around your lovers shoulders, pressing your covered chest into their naked one. "Maybe I should.. I mean.. it might be easier if I.."

Pulling back suddenly, your expression is enough for San to stop talking. "No. No more hiding. No more pretending. If I wanted easy, I wouldn't have agreed to marry you." You smirk playfully at this, running a hand up San's shoulder and neck and stopping at the patch of black hair covering their chin. Brushing your thumb through the familiar and much adored goatee, you notice that your words and actions haven't managed to quell your partners fears.

"But what if they-"

"No, no buts." You interrupt, shaking your head before leaning in and pressing a kiss to the only set of lips you could ever imagine waking up to in the morning. "You are who you are, Santino, and if the others can't accept that, then we'll just leave." You really don't want to leave early, not at least until you have both managed to pay your respects to the person who had helped you so much throughout high school. To the teacher that was partially responsible for your happiness, for your family, for San's life.

You watch in silence as the man you love, the man you married and raised two children with, begins to tear up. "Oh hunny, please don't start. If you start, I'll start and then the kids will start and we'll end up this big giant mess and we'll never get to the cemetery on time." This seems to steady your partner, and they wipe the back of their hand over their eyes before pulling you back into a tight embrace.

"I love you Brittany. I love you so much."

"I know," despite your words, your unable to stop your own tears from streaming down your cheeks as you rest your head on your husband's bare shoulder, "I love you too."