Her day had been exhausting. Santana had to deal with a fake diva at the studio, whose personality was on par with inanimate objects and whose voice sent ripples of hate throughout her body. She was the girl everyone was talking about, and with an album deadline looming, had chosen to record a few songs with Santana, before backing out and proclaiming that she wasn't good enough, that she couldn't churn out the kind of quality she had expected.
Santana was outraged at the accusations. She was the best, that's why people came to record with her in the first place. Excellence flowed in her veins and in her music. And when left to face girls who thought they had done all-seen all in their first year of the industry really made her blood boil. Coupled with the hormones that shit could get dangerous.
Santana took her bottle of lotion for stretch marks from the coffee table and sat back against the couch with a grateful sigh. She kicked her shoes off and laid her legs on the table, enjoying the moment of silence and tranquility. She took some lotion in her hand and lifted her shirt a few inches up with her thumbs, slipped both hands under the fabric and began to rub her whole stomach slowly, very carefully.
"I like when you're sleepy like this. I don't need another diva right now…" She felt a kick against her side, right under her fingertips.
"Yup, no doubt, you have my genes, She giggled.
She kept rubbing. In all, her bump wasn't so heavy for that of a 6 month pregnant woman, and she rubbed quietly with this thought in her head.
"My sweet, my very responsive sweet little baby…"
A few seconds went by, another kick. She looked at her watch, it was almost 5pm.
"Okay… Mommy won't be back home before 7, so be nice, and let me take a nap, will you?"
No kicks, just flutters, which was a good sign. She needed a break between kicks so she could fall asleep. She closed her eyes, intent on only resting them for a moment.
- o -
Brittany finished the dishes, which she'd tried to do as quietly as possible, so Santana wouldn't hear her from the living room. She dried her hands on a spare tablecloth and walked towards the couch, leaning her elbows against the back and smiling softly down at her wife. Santana had been sound-asleep since she got home. She was cradling her own belly, and sometimes, frowning when she felt the baby kick or move restlessly. Brittany knew she hadn't moved an inch since she fell asleep; Santana could sleep for hours without stirring once. She was that kind of pregnant mama, that once she took a nap, she just bent her head on her shoulder and slept in the same position for hours, wherever she was. And each time Brittany had to wake Santana up, it damn near almost broke her heart.
Brittany sat right next to Santana and kissed her softly on her cheekbone and waited for a minute or two, before stroking her cheek with the back of her hand. Santana's eyes sleepily opened.
"Hey" Brittany said with a tender smile, "sorry to wake you up... It's getting late, sweetheart, I don't want you to sleep on the couch all night."
"Wait, what time is it?"
"Almost midnight."
"The fuck?" Santana's eyes went wide. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"
"Come on, I just made you something to eat, we can eat it in bed!" Brittany smirked at Santana, and with a wink, she convinced her not to worry about the time and just follow her. Brittany stood up and helped Santana to steady herself.
"Did you cook me lasagna?" she asked playfully.
"Yup..."
"Yes!" Santana cried out in her husky voice, while raising her arms up in the air like a crowned champion.
- o -
Brittany went to the kitchen while Santana changed into a very loose shirt. In the wardrobe mirror, Santana noticed her bump had started to really show now, tucked against the fabric of her shirt and her abdomen. She gently rocked her hips back and forth, and watched the shirt move everywhere but on her bump. It made her smile.
"You're so beautiful… It fits you" Brittany put a plate on the bedside cabinet and laid on the bed, crossing her arms behind her head.
"I thought I'd feel like a whale you know… I mean, look at this!" Santana tapped lightly on her sides, "but I like it, I really do. When Mom was pregnant she was so heavy, have you seen the pictures? … I kind of feared it. But it's so perfect… totally rocking it. I'll miss it."
She turned around to face Brittany.
"Hold on San, you can still enjoy it for at least two more months… Baby girl won't disappear!" She grinned, "Come over here."
Santana travelled to the bed, almost dancing on her tiptoes, because, God, she was so hungry, and her cravings for lasagna just got worse every day.
Brittany opened her arms wide, smiling happily, and Santana snuggled into her for a minute, before Brittany put one arm on her shoulder and got the plate with her other. She placed it gingerly San's bump, and turned the TV on.
They watched it for a while, Santana devouring all of her pasta as Brittany remained silent.
Something felt bitter, apprehensive even. When she glanced at Brittany, she saw her eyes staring at nothing, looking lost and preoccupied.
"What is it?"
" Hm?"
"You're not with me right now, tell me what's wrong, sweetheart?"
"What? No, why do you think.."
"Tell me. Don't get the whale angry or I'll eat you." Santana snapped her jaw playfully at her wife and Brittany smiled.
"I... Hmm, it's nothing really. I just..." She took a breath "When I came home tonight, you were so beautiful lying on the couch, with your hands on your stomach. I figured you fell asleep like that because she was kicking, so I put my hands on there too, there were flutters but they stopped, like she doesn't want me to feel her or something. It happens all the time… I just... I wonder if she's gonna love me. It's silly… "
Santana had no words, in fact she could barely believe what she was hearing. "Britt... she..."
"I shouldn't have said it, see, now you're worrying." Brittany kissed Santana softly on the lips, trying to brush off her doubts.
"You're wrong, she loves you already," Santana murmured once they'd broken apart.
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I know that, Britt." Brittany looked up at her skeptically. "Oh don't look at me like that again!"
"Okay then, how do you know?" She lowered her eyes, staring at her hand playing with the edge of the covers, avoiding Santana's eyes.
"Every night, she kicks me so bad it wakes me up and I can't go back to sleep. I tried different positions to ease a bit but …"
"Aww honey, nothing works ?"
"No, no, let me finish goddamn it… And nothing ever worked. But two days ago, I was cold, and tired, and she … kept kicking… and kicking…" Santana sat up tiredly a little, looking straight into Brittany's still troubled eyes. " I didn't know what to do. I needed you, to hold me, just hold me… Just you and me, no baby, no hysterical mood swings, just you and me. "
Brittany looked up, anxiously waiting for what she was about to say.
"So I shook you a bit and you opened your arms in your sleep. I pressed our bodies together, and it felt so good.. Belly against belly. And she stopped. She… stopped right away. I tried again yesterday, and it worked then too."
"San..."
"She knows you, Britt. She knows how good you are to me…"
Brittany bit her lip, awed and warm, before leaning forward to place a light reverent kiss on Santana's neck.
"She's like me. She needs you to calm down."
"I love you, San…"
Brittany took the plate away from Santana's hands, and rubbed her back in slow soothing circles, gesturing silently for her wife to lie down. She put her hand on the back of Santana's head, and leaned her back against the cushions very protectively, almost topping her. She bent down and gave her one of her most desperate kisses, a mix of happiness, need and desire. Lost in the moment, Santana ran her fingers through Brittany's hair when she felt her stroking her lips with her tongue, asking for entrance. She pressed their bodies closer and deepened the kiss, again and again, pressing closer, wanting to be nearer.
Brittany held Santana's thigh higher against her hip and caressed her until Santana felt goosebumps erupt across her skin. Feeling a shiver run the length of her wife's spine, Brittany pulled away from the kiss and moved to pull the covers over them.
"No, no, I'm good, come back…" Santana urged her with a soft desperation. She caught Brittany's face with both hands, and kissed her as if her life depended on it.
- o -
The next morning, Santana entered the studio cheerfully. It was all black wood and blurry mirrors, designer chairs and spotlights all over the place. On the walls were framed posters of Santana's best singers, and in the middle of it, a very tiny Rolling Stone magazine cover which shone through the golden frame "Santana Lopez, Queen of Soul."
"Hi boss !" Carla, her assistant, greeted from her round and large glass desk, handing her a set of keys and a folder full of lyrics.
"Hey, is Puckerman already there ?"
"Yes, I made him wait in your office. I booked Room 3 for you, I guessed you'd use that one today?"
"Yeah, perfect. As always. Make sure nobody disturb us." Santana glanced at the lyrics really quickly. "Did Chang leave that for me herself ?"
"Yes M'am, last night, before I closed."
"Ok, send it back and tell her if she doesn't come up with something else than songs about kissing in the rain and the same old tripe, like really soon, I'd be better off without her slanting Barbie face." Santana handed Carla the folder back, and smiled at her. She walked to the corridor behind the desk turned back and yelled: "Why are we the best, Carla?"
" 'Cause bitches get stuff done, M'am!"
"That's my girl!" And she disappeared down the corridor with a chuckle.
- o -
She unlocked the door and walked into Room 3, followed by Puck, Miranda Bush, a 19 year old and tiny ginger singer in the making, and two sound engineers. This recording room wasn't very large, nor as luxurious as the rest of the building. It was just a mixing table cutting the room in half, next to the door and the recording area's window, and four pale leather armchairs which were incredibly comfortable. It was small, intimate. Perfect.
Everyone made themselves at home. Miranda sat on the bar stool close to the mic and warmed up her voice while Santana and her team talked about how they'd run this session. And Puck... was being Puck, all eyes on Miranda's legs.
Santana opened the speaker, bending as much as she actually could on the mixing table to reach the mic.
"Miranda, Jimmy and Henry will start the instrumental part then you'll just have to give it a shot with the lyrics. Just to see how you'll feel the song, no pressure. Alright?"
Miranda nodded shakily, obviously freaking out.
"Okay, show me what you got." Santana said, gesturing for her team to play the song, and turning the speaker off.
The music started slowly, like the softest ballad you'd ever raised her hand in the hair, and counted from 5 to 0, indicating to Miranda when she had to sing.
"Whether talks fade into whispers…
Whether absence fills days and hours…"
Santana sighed.
"If illusion mutters you'll fail me too…
Let those words remain through…"
She glanced at Puck, who seemed totally raptured by the music, evident by the small movements with his closed fist on every beat. In other words, he was avoiding Santana's gaze.
"Just the way you…"
Santana turned the speaker on.
"Okay, Miranda, I need just… Hm… I need to check something. Hold on." She turned it off, and Jimmy shut the music down.
"You've got to be kidding me, Puckerman." She hissed at him. "You have to stop bringing your booty calls over and making them believe I'll turn them into Adele 2.0."
"I don't know what you're talking about…"
"She has the emotion of a lost puppy! Help yourself and buy new ears, because I swear, her voice is deafening my baby. DEAFENING, Puck."
"Oh come on, hot mama, maybe it's just the song. We can figure something more pop, less emotional, I don't know…"
"You brought her over just to fuck her a little longer, seriously, even with a hundred singing lessons, she'd barely make it for beer ads on German TV. Where did you find this treasure? C'mon, I could use a laugh, tell me," she chuckled darkly.
"Las Vegas."
Speaker on.
"Hey Miranda, what's the Vegas motto?"
"What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, why?"
Santana acknowledged her with a smirk and a flat opened hand rose up in her direction, which made Jimmy and Henry burst into laughter.
"Wait, what?" The girl looked a little lost, tiny under the large headphones over her head.
"Nothing dear, I was reminding Puck of a few rules that shouldn't be violated. Hm, tell me, have you ever considered doing anything else than singing, like modeling, dancing maybe? You have a pretty great body yourself."
"Was it that bad?" Miranda winced.
"Kind of. I appreciate that Puck believed I could do miracles but honey, you're not made for this."
"But I can try harder..."
"I'll let you two discuss that while we're going to work on actual good stuff," Santana said smirking at Puck and turned the speakers off. Miranda began to rage behind the window, all fragility and shyness forgotten.
"You didn't have to do that," Puck sighed.
Henry and Jimmy left the room, indicating to Santana that they'd be taking a small break.
"Do what?"
"Crush her dreams. Just because you don't sing anymore…"
"I know what your point is, and no, I'm not playing hard on her out of bitterness, I'm perfectly fine with myself and so should you. And you need to stop this farce. It's better for her, trust me."
"I don't understand why you quit singing," Puck replied, deviating smoothly from the subject at hand.
Santana tried to stand up from the armchair, but she lost her balance and Puck caught her in his arms. "Hey Mama, careful."
"Thanks… I... hm... I should eat something. "
"Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I still have some dizziness sometimes, it'll go away after I eat something."
"Do you want me to call Brittany?"
"No, no, it's fine, really," Santana said, extracting herself from his embrace, which became more of a friendly hug than a faint support. "Free your Flaming Holy Bush from her glass tower." She winked, "I'm gonna go rest for a minute in my office." She kissed him on the cheek and tried not to snort as Miranda Bsh began to knock severely against the glass window.
"Okay, but I won't go far if you need anything," Puck said, worry showing through his eyes.
"Seriously, I'm fine" She waved him off and escaped the room and all the pending questions.
- o -
She heard a small knock on her door not half an hour later.
"Puck, I told you I was fine. Get out of my building."
"M'am, I'm here to bring your lunch."
"Oh okay, come in!"
Carla entered gingerly while Santana was lying on a small couch, her neck on an armrest resting on a pillow, her knees on the other, and her legs swinging like a child would. She sat up at the assistant's appearance, and Carla put a tray down on a coffee table right on front on the couch.
"Aaaah lasagna, what a good thing I hired you!"
Carla was about to leave when Santana called her back.
"Take a seat with me, would you?"
This surprised the other woman as Santana made a point of never becoming too intimate with her employees. She was a cool boss, but not that friendly. Carla had been working here for over a year, and all she knew about her boss was what her Wikipedia page would reveal. And because she was a very tough woman, Carla never tried to push or discover more than Santana felt comfortable enough to confess on her own.
Santana appreciated this quality more than any other in any employee, even in a person. She was tired of people too eager to read her mind, as if she was a TV show people were watching. She knew success would need that sort of compromise, but each interview she did hurt her a little more. She'd stopped counting a long time ago the girls she'd hired who actually were there only to get scoops from the inside. How many times had she come home so disappointed, that even out of the spotlights, people still treated her like a Disney World attraction?
But Carla never did. And Santana respected her so much for that. Since she'd hired her, Carla had never failed her. When she'd finally gotten pregnant and her morning sickness was kicking the shit out of her, she feared Carla would run to tell the tabloids about it since she was almost the only one who saw her every day except for Brittany. Of course, she'd made her sign a confidentiality contract when they started working together, but still, she had feared the repercussions.
For naught it turned out. Carla hadn't gone divulging any secrets and Santana had been free to make her public announcement when she was 4 months into the pregnancy, just as she planned. She could trust Carla, she knew it.
"Carla, I have to talk to you about something. I think I …" She eagerly speared some pasta in her mouth, and swallowed. "I think I'm going to take some time off of work."
"But boss, I really need this job and…"
"Stop the rambling, this is not what I'm implying. It's not hard to see that I don't do very well with my pregnancy..."
Carla paused with bated breath.
"I feel like I'm losing all the energy I have left day by day, I feel weak and running the business requires the strength of a bloodthirsty tiger. Look at me, it's barely noon and I'm already wiped out!" She paused, taking another mouthful. "I need you to help me, but this is not what you've been hired for. I'd understand if you're not up for it."
"What's your angle?" Carla asked plainly.
"I need someone to give directions for the studio and the label when I'll be enjoying my cocooning. I can still provide my artistic choices from home, but I won't be able to run the logistical part, neither the appointments. I need you to break the back of the work, and bring me home the most important stuff. It's about making a lot of decisions on your own and not failing me. I trust you with that. But before you decide…" Santana paused again, and she took another bite. She looked straight in the girl's wavering eyes. "This label I created is my life, and this studio my baby. Well, my first baby. This is all I've been fighting for. I can't afford to lose it. If you accept my offer, you'll have to spend a lot of extra time taking care of it just as much as I do."
"M'am, I'm flattered but I don't know if I can r…"
"I trust you to run it, the question is, do you trust me when I say you can?"
"I... hm.. I…"
"You have until next Saturday to make your decision. I know it's rushed. I guess I don't have the choice. I don't trust those stupid guys from others labels who want to partake in my business. I know you could run the place with your heart. You have the choice though. You do have it, I want you to be certain about that, okay?"
She felt a hard kick, the last of a long and painful series, which made her whimper even more.
Unaware of what she should say or even do, Carla remained motionless while Santana recovered from the blows. Santana leant back on the couch, a firm hand holding her side. She began to breathe in and out, slowly.
"I'm in."
"Carla, you need to be sure about th…"
"No, I'll do it. This is my dream you're giving to me. I'd be stupid to waste it out of shyness. I don't need to think about it any longer. I'll do it."
Santana smiled at her. She knew Carla was hiding a beast deep down, and it was finally showing. She was glad. So she stared at her, smiling. "Good," she let out, for her own reassurance.
She dismissed Carla soon after, and finished her lasagna as she read the stack of files piling on her desk. She listened to a few demos and made notes before her lunch break ended. Her schedule for this afternoon was more than full and the mountain of work still left to conquer made her sigh. She called Carla over the intercom, and asked her to take part in all of her appointments.
They were both waiting for the next meeting in her office. They were supposed to meet up with PR agents for the new diva Santana had recorded with. Carla sat on the couch, absorbed by dozens of demos, files, brochures, press releases... she was organizing them in front of her on the coffee table as she'd been told. Santana rested her legs under her desk, busy reading a few papers when, all of a sudden, she felt her baby move roughly and a back pain manifest itself. She lifted her stomach right away.
"Carla, bring me my pillow!"
In a quick move, Carla reached it and rushed to give it to the pained woman. Santana slipped it behind her back and laid back down. It eased the stabbing pain a bit, but nothing spectacular.
"I swear to God she's smashing me from the inside..."
A knock on the door. Their appointment had arrived.
"Awesome" Santana grumbled.
Carla opened the door and made them enter. Santana apologized for not getting up to shake their hand and told them to make themselves comfortable.
"Carla," Santana whispered "Cancel all my appointments for today. If they complain, come up with something, I don't know. But don't postpone! I'll figure something out later."
Her efficient assistant stormed out as Santana kicked off the meeting. When Carla came back, she noticed that her boss couldn't get rid off the expression of mixed pain and worry on her features, even when she talked to the PR team. She cared. Carla really cared about her, and watching her state weaken day by day saddened her deeply. However, she minded her business, helping Santana only if required and directly asked to.
Everyone felt Santana hurry the meeting. Her opinions were harsh, unquestionable. Even if she knew the reason behind her boss behavior, Carla couldn't help but feel impressed by her. She hoped some day, she could have such a sharp eye. The fact that Santana trusted her with that filled her heart with joy.
Santana made the effort to stand up to say goodbye and nodded at Carla to lead them out, leaving her alone in her office once more.
She let her eyes wander on the large window for a minute, offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. She applied both her hands on her stomach, on the sides of her bellybutton. Her baby was still fidgeting under her touch so she stroked with her thumbs, slowly, smoothly. She was worrying. For her baby, for herself. Pregnancy wasn't supposed to be this hard. She was glad she had made it through the morning sickness, the chest pain, which truthfully had almost finished her. That said, she fully knew she was currently "enjoying" a sickness break before the real business started.
Santana grabbed her phone on the desk and dialed a number she had ecome intimately acquainted with. She kept stroking her stomach with her free hand as she listened to the tone last.
"Langome Medical Center, may I help you?"
"Santana Lopez, I'm calling for my father."