The War of Halloween lasts weeks, and by the time the day finally comes Brittany just wants to lie down and drink a glass of wine.
But she had to make some promises during the process, and now it's time to fulfill at least one of them. Fulfill it, hopefully, more than once.
...
"No!"
"But, Mami, why?" Sasha screams, and, not really expecting an answer, follows it up with a door slammed closed.
Brittany waits, feet kicked up on the coffee table, and then Santana storms in and slams the door to the den shut, too.
"We were never this awful when we were that age, were we?" Santana sighs, leaning against the door.
"Nope," Brittany doesn't bother looking up from the book open on her lap. "Way worse."
Santana frowns at her, pushing away from the door. "Okay, but LA is way less safe than Lima." She pulls her glasses off and drops onto the couch, leaning into Brittany's side. "She'll just have to be less awful from her bedroom prison."
"What about Lima Heights Adjacent?" Brittany asks against Santana's jaw. "Is that safer than LA?"
"Definitely not," she says, but they don't get any further than that before the door flies open and round two begins. Before she gets to bed, Brittany's decided that she's learnt better Spanish from the girls in her dance class than from either her wife or daughter.
...
It goes on for two whole weeks.
She spends a lot of time staying out of it; throwing Mario Lopez a stick he refuses to fetch while Sasha begs and pleads until Santana snaps and sends Sasha to her room, soaking in the bath pretending her daughter hasn't just said she hates them both on the other side of the bathroom door.
It's quite for a while and then Santana slips into the room, steam rushing out through the gap. She strips off her clothes, angrily tugging at her suit jacket, and by the time she's pulling off her underwear there's a tremor in her hands. She steps between Brittany's knees and sinks into the water. She curls up against Brittany's chest, and hot tears trickle down her skin and into the water.
It's the first time Sasha's ever said something like that to either of them - and Brittany knows it's time to step in.
…
The War of Halloween Treaty has to be handled with the skills of a diplomat. She's not sure she can drink like Lord John Marbury, though, so she might be at a disadvantage.
…
"What about if we let her go and-"
"No." Perhaps while Santana is chopping vegetables with a very sharp knife is not the best time to begin.
…
"I'll get you a puppy if you leave your Mami alone about this party."
"I already have a dog." Sasha's face screws up into such a perfect imitation of Santana that Brittany has to kiss her forehead.
…
They're at the grocery store, picking at the bag of grapes sitting in the cart, when she begins her final, stealth negotiations.
"Why don't you want Sasha to go," she says, not at all stealthy.
"Because," Santana starts immediately, and then has nothing else to say for a while. They're in the cereal aisle before she continues. "We were that age when we started- doing things she's too young for."
"Honey," Brittany says, and pulls the cart and Santana to a stop, "Were we too young?"
"Yes," a pause, "I don't know. No. We were us." She steps away, looks at the boxes of muesli. "It's not the same."
"It's just a party," Brittany shrugs, though she knows there's valid concerns here. Boys, no parents, older kids with fake IDs. But concern is Santana's cause to champion, hers is the positives. "She's never given us a reason to think she'd do something wrong."
"She's never been in a situation where..." Santana trails off, frowning at imagined ghosts.
"Let her prove herself," Brittany nudges.
…
Sasha screams when Brittany tells her she can go, and after giving her a list of twenty-seven different rules, turns the girl around and pushes her towards Santana. "You should be thanking your Mami, not me."
Later, Santana's still not happy about it.
"Hey," Brittany says, poking Santana in the arm as the get ready for bed. "A whole evening with no kid in the house."
Santana finally perks up at that.
…
Halloween morning, she's unhappy again.
"Can you please make her stop," Sasha huffs, hugging Brittany good morning as she's coming in and Sasha's leaving the kitchen.
Santana's standing at the counter, angrily eating a bowl of sliced apple.
She stands behind her, hands around Santana's waist and lips dotting along her hairline.
"I'll use the thing," she says when she gets to Santana's ear. She sees Santana smiling as she licks the juice from her fingertips.
…
She's unhappy again as they're driving to the McMullens' house where Sasha's getting ready to before the party. She stood in Sasha's bedroom doorway and Brittany lost count of how many times the word penis is mentioned in the long list of things Sasha is not to go near tonight, no matter what anyone says. Their daughter isn't gay, but Brittany's fairly certain Santana's trying to nudge her in that direction with the subtlety of a unicorn in the House of Fabergé.
Santana stops the car outside the house, and turns to the back where Sasha's grabbing up all her things so she can escape. Brittany watches her watch their daughter, and after she's climbed out of the car Sasha flops in front of Brittany's open window in a way only teenagers are capable of.
"Have a good night," she says, and leans through the window to kiss Sasha's cheek. "Call us later-"
"Even if," Santana cuts in, "you're drunk, or you had sex and you hated it, or you had sex and you liked it, even if it was with a boy! Even if you get in a fight, or someone offered you a joint, or you're bored! Or- just. It doesn't matter." She leans across Brittany in the passenger seat. "We'll come get you, no matter what, okay."
Brittany slips her hand around Santana's wrist where she's leaning next to Brittany's thigh, stroking at the skin because how did she get such an awesome wife?
Sasha just nods for a moment, then ducks her head through the window and kisses Santana. "Okay, Mami."
When Sasha's practically skipped away from the car and up the path, Brittany kisses her, too.
…
"You promised!" Santana sing-songs.
Brittany doesn't have a problem with it. She just likes to be able to feel what she's doing to Santana, and it gets in the way of that. But Santana likes it, and after that display earlier Santana deserves a reward.
She tugs Santana in closer. "I know. But I want to touch you first."
It's not that they've been in a slump, because they're both still totally hot for each other, but being an adult is tiring. Brittany sometimes thinks they need to start skipping work every now and then like they skipped class in high school, but Santana refuses to have sex in a car anymore.
So life sometimes gets in the way, but she can make that work, too. Absence makes the heart hornier and all that.
Santana follows along easily, letting Brittany wrap around her. It's this game they play, where Brittany does sneaky things, and Santana lets her get away with them, and that's how they end up on the bed with Brittany's head between Santana's legs.
"Britt- Britt, stop, you promised," she says, pulling at Brittany's hair. She can hear the desperate little thread through Santana's voice, so with a final lick she moves away.
Even as worked up as much as she is, Santana scrambles to help with the buckles of the harness, and when Brittany gives the strap-on a final tug - "Cross check complete," mumbled with a chuckle - she practically throws herself back into the pillows, legs falling apart.
"You're so easy," Brittany says, nothing but affection in her voice.
Santana slips her arms around Brittany's neck, bringing her closer as she moves into place. "Only for you."
Brittany can't decide what to do, so she kisses Santana at the same time as she presses into her. Santana keeps their mouths together, tongue tracing against Brittany's, until the final inch is filling her, and she pulls away to voice her approval.
"Don't move yet," Santana says, and Brittany knows it's because she's savoring the stretch before she fully adjusts. It gives her a moment to nip at Santana's neck, tiny red marks that may or may not remain for Santana to pretend to frown about.
When she starts to shift, Brittany pulls back enough to see Santana's practically panting from pleasure, and she rolls her hips to get them going again.
She might have miscalculated how close she'd brought Santana just with her mouth. Usually she'd take her time at least a little bit, set them a rhythm and then drive Santana crazy by destroying it. But she's barely even broken a sweat before Santana twists frantically against her.
"Oh god," she cries into the pillow she's buried half her face in. "Harder, Britt!"
Not one to deny her wife anything, really, she obliges, gripping Santana's hips tighter. She leans forward, not quite enough to be exactly where Santana needs her, but close enough to reach her ear. "You ready?"
"Yes," Santana says between breaths, but Brittany's not convinced.
"You sure?" she asks, a small bite following her words.
Santana untwists and curls up into Brittany's body, her arms clutching at Brittany's back and their entire length pressed together from hips to forehead. "Please, Britt," she says, her voice stronger this time.
Brittany pecks a kiss to her lips. "Okay, honey. Let's do this."
She shifts enough that she can wrap around Santana's body, hitching Santana up higher against the pillows. Santana's face is pressed into her neck, and the movement of her hips has Santana's back arching into her as she moans into Brittany's ear.
Brittany doesn't pause to get them settled again, just keeps moving against Santana until they fall against each other perfectly, hips and breasts pressed against their counterpart.
She can feel the growing tremor in Santana's legs where they're hooked around her hips, can feel it spreading through Santana's body. She presses her mouth to Santana's ear as she drives their pace that much harder, "I love you," said just loud enough for Santana to hear it over her own cries.
Sure it's cheesy, but Brittany likes to think that's all it takes to send Santana into her orgasm, frozen in painfully clenched pleasure for long seconds before her entire body's shaking in Brittany's arms.
She strokes Santana down gently, slowing to a halt but remaining buried inside her while she runs her fingers along Santana's neck, watching her face grow lazy with pleasure.
"I'm not sleeping" she murmurs when Brittany starts peppering kisses along her jaw.
"Sure you're not," Brittany replies, and Santana better not be because it's not like doing that did nothing for her, too.
"I've got your back, B," Santana says quietly, hand cupping Brittany's jaw and bringing her face up so they can kiss properly for the first time in a while now.
She's about to pull out when something occurs to her. "What time is it?"
"Why?" Santana murmurs, more interested in the skin of Brittany's shoulder.
"Because," she says, letting Santana continue, "How much longer do we have?"
Santana pulls back, completely unconcerned. "Long enough," she shrugs. "I'm pretty talented, you know."
Brittany can't control the bubble of laughter that wells up. "So romantic."
"Orgasms are romantic, Britt," she says matter of factly. "Now, get off me so I can give you one," she says, and then her voice drops a little. "You're gonna come so hard."
"Just one?" Brittany asks as she moves away. "Just one, after I just made you come so hard I'm covered in you?"
Santana makes an outraged noise and blushes all the way down to her chest.
"Well," she says after they've shuffled around and she's lying across Brittany. "Maybe more than one."
"That's more like it." Brittany brings their lips together for just a second before she asks, "Are you happy about tonight yet?"
"No," Santana says immediately, but when she continues Brittany can hear the smile in her voice. "That's going to take at least two more orgasm."
"I think that can be arranged."