"Okay, so here's the thing-"
"There's a thing? I thought you said this wasn't going to be a thing."
"I know, I just meant-"
"You said 'just Christmas dinner with a couple people who happen to look like me - no big thing.' Those were your exact words."
"I know- it's not. I mean, the dinner isn't a thing. There's just a thing about the dinner. And really, it's not even a thing. It's more of a sub-thing."
"The dinner."
"No, I just told you, dinner is not going to be a thing. Like, at all."
"Right, it's a sub-thing."
"No, Santana, you're not listening. Dinner is not a thing. In fact, it's a not-thing-oh my God I think I just figured out where the word 'nothing' came from. That is so cool, I- hey!"
You turn to shoot a totally withering glare at Santana, only to find her smirking at you over the tops of her aviators, her arm draped across the back of the bench seating in your truck's cab, fingers curling dangerously close to the collar of your windbreaker.
"You're doing that on purpose, aren't you? That whole miscorrecting thing-"
"Misdirecting."
"Right, that whole misdirecting thing where you try to make me lose my train of thought. Not cool, Santana."
Her smirk falls and turns into a soft smile as she tugs off her sunglasses and tucks them into her collar and pushes the bill of her baseball cap higher up over her forehead.
"Sorry babe, I can't help myself. I just love the way your brain works. You've gotta be some kind of genius, the way you can keep track of a conversation no matter what. It's ridiculously sexy."
You flush hotly and lean across the center console to push at her shoulder with yours, humming when her hand catches around the back of your neck to pull you in for a light kiss.
"I mean it, Britt. You've got the most fascinating mind. It's one of the things I love most about you."
"Santana…" You can hear how light your voice is, and you wonder if there will ever be a day when she won't be able to take your breath away without even trying. Probably not, if you're honest with yourself.
"Okay, okay, I'm being serious. Serious Santana." Her smile softens even further, but it hovers just at the corners of her mouth and eyes, playful and so full of affection you almost can't stand it. It takes actual effort for you to refocus on what she's saying, you're so distracted by her. "There's a thing about this dinner, although the dinner in and of itself is decidedly not a thing."
"Right. Um. The thing is my dad...Like, he knows about you and everything. I mean, I talk about you all the time and how much I love you and stuff and he knows we've been together basically since it happened, but like...I'm a little nervous about letting him actually meet you because he gets a little overprotective sometimes." Her smile drops completely, and your stomach goes along for the ride. You rush to reassure her and kick yourself for saying anything in the first place. "But he's gonna love you, I know it! I'm one-hundred percent sure that he will totally love you, because you're perfect and beautiful and smart and funny and you make me so happy and that's what's really important to him I think so-"
She stops you with a gentle kiss, not nearly long enough, and light as air. "I'll be on my best behavior," she murmurs solemnly. Her eyes are completely serious now, and you can tell from the way the muscles along her jawline bunch that she's hiding a lot of nervousness too. You sigh regretfully and run your fingertips along the smooth line of muscle and bone, stroking tenderly. Maybe you can undo some of the stress you just caused unnecessarily.
Hoping for a laugh, you scowl ferociously and mutter, "You're always on your best behavior. It's no fun at all."
She offers you a tight smile and pats your hand lightly before dislodging it from her face. "Let's get this tree in the house, huh? You said your cousin is coming over to help decorate?"
Sighing again, you haul yourself out from behind the wheel and mirror Santana as she heads toward the back of your pickup to let down the back gate.
"Yeah, Holly. She's actually my dad's cousin, but it's easier if I call her my cousin too." You pause in the middle of reaching for the tree - you don't really want to, given the results of your last warning, but you feel like maybe you should brief your girlfriend on your cousin too. "Um, Santana?"
She grunts as she starts pulling the tree towards her. "Yeah, babe."
"About Holly…"
She shoots you a concerned glance, but continues yanking on the tree, wrestling it upright while you stand by, wrestling with your thoughts.
"Holly- she's not like my dad. I mean, she'll totally love you on sight."
A muffled grunt sounds from somewhere behind the tree. "Alright…"
"That's kind of the problem though."
Santana's head pokes out from behind the swaying mass of pine needles, and her brow is doing that crease-thing that makes her look like a confused puppy and now you can't remember what you wanted to say because you just want to kiss her and boop her nose and maybe even-
"HONEYBEE!"
"Oh God."
You spin in place and grin hugely when you see your cousin trudging through the heavy layer of snow blanketing the parking lot. Her hair, almost an exact match for your own, is flying wildly across her face as she makes her way over to you, and you tuck your lips together to avoid getting a mouthful of it when she pulls you into a tight hug.
"It's been an inexcusably long time, Britt. Just what do you have to say for yourself?" She steps back and plants her hands on her hips as she mock glares at you.
You shuffle guiltily and grin at her. "I've been…busy, Holls."
"Busy," she scoffs. "Busy with what, exactly?" She grins at you slyly, and you swallow nervously in anticipation of what she might say next. "Or should I say, who?"
"Um, Britt?"
"Oh God, Santana! You spin quickly, almost slipping on the icy ground beneath your feet, and grab the top of the tree so you can take some of its weight from the smaller woman's grasp. "I'm so sorry honey! Here, let's get this inside. Holls, can you go get the door?"
"'Course, Honeybee. Let's go get our Christmas on!" You can't see her because you're facing Santana, but you'd bet your favorite DuckTales t-shirt that she's charging across the lot like she's going to war. You and Holly have almost identical personalities, which means she's just as prone to silliness as you are. It's one of the things you love best about her.
You and Santana lift the tree and begin the long trek to her apartment. As you climb the stairs, huffing and puffing way more than any two reasonably in-shape women probably should, you find yourself ridiculously grateful that you agreed to have Christmas dinner at her place instead of yours. You've been spending more and more of your time over there as it is, so it made sense to you.
You haven't really revisited the conversation about the two of you living together since the last time, and you don't really want to bring it up yourself. Conversations in the middle of hot, hot lady sex probably don't count - at least not when you're talking about serious stuff.
"Britt, let's just put this in the corner for now. I'm gonna go take off this damn jacket and lay out my uniform before I start setting this thing up, that way I can change real quick before dinner."
"Oka-"
"You can take off whatever you want, sweet cheeks. That's just fine by me."
"Holly!"
You still can't see your cousin's face, but she must be making one of her awful 'sexy' expressions because Santana looks like she's about to burst into flames from pure embarrassment.
"Alright, alright, introductions first, seductions later. You're such an old fuddy-duddy when it comes to protocol, B, honestly."
"Just ignore her, honey," you mutter. Santana smiles sheepishly at you and shrugs as much as an armful of Christmas tree will allow her.
"I get the feeling that's easier said than done, Britt," she murmurs. She winks at you as she tugs the tree from your hands and braces it in the corner she must have cleared out for it before you picked her up this morning. "I'm gonna go take off my jacket and stuff, then I'll get started on this monster. You just...you keep your cousin busy, 'kay?"
You nod and smile sympathetically, giggling when she pats your ass as she heads into her room. It's kind of funny to you, how she treats her uniform - almost like it's some kind of superhero costume. Like she can handle anything the world throws at her when she's in it, but in regular clothes she's just plain Santana.
To be honest, you're kind of starting to really like the cop side of Santana. Normally - around you at least - she's kinda shy and bashful and impossibly tender like, all the time and it just makes you want to wrap her up in your arms and keep her forever.
But once she's got her uniform on, something inside her just...switches. All the sudden all of this confidence just comes up out of nowhere and and it's like she's almost a different person. She's harder and stronger and constantly on guard. But at the same time, if she's in a good mood, she gets this sort of sly look behind her eyes. She almost seems cocky, and God does cocky Santana do things to your insides.
You wish cocky Santana would do something inside you, but now's not really the time for that so you clench your thighs and grit your teeth and hope that your cheeks aren't as pink and hot as they feel.
You join Holly in the kitchen, rolling your eyes when you see she's already helped herself to a beer from the fridge. "Something to drink, Holls?"
She lifts the beer in salute and smirks at you. "All set, B."
Snorting, you rinse the sap and dust from your hands in the sink. You don't resist the urge to flick some water at the woman before drying your hands. The oven beeps and you glance at it nervously.
"Um, Santana?"
"Yeah, babe?" Her voice echoes sweetly down the hall, and you grin to yourself subconsciously. You can just imagine her, standing over her bed, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles as she lays her spotless uniform out for later. It's kind of adorable how precise and neat she is with it. She's so careful with everything, and it never fails to make you melt a little inside.
Holly giggles and you snap the towel at her. The oven beeps again, reminding you of your worry.
"The oven just beeped at me. Do you-"
"It's fine, Britt. That's just a reminder beep. I set a timer for it." She strolls into the kitchen in just her faded jeans and a plain white undershirt, tucked in tight around her hips, and pecks your cheek before cracking the oven door to check on the turkey inside. "It's still got another hour or so. I've got it under control."
"A woman in control - I like it."
You get the feeling your eyes are gonna be doing a lot of rolling today. You hope they don't get stuck that way, but at least you'll know who to blame if they do. "Holly…" you sigh.
"Um...Thanks? I-I'm gonna go handle the tree now." Uh oh, stuttering. A sure sign that Santana's already on edge. You don't miss the way her hand curls possessively around your shoulder as she passes by, or the way her body shifts as far from Holly's (and not-so-incidentally as close to yours) as possible on her way out. You're so going to work that possessive thing to your advantage later. In the meantime, though, most of you wants to glare at Holly for making her nervous, and apologize to Santana for not warning her better. The rest of you that wants to giggle at how cute she is. Because she is. So cute.
You pull out a plate of sliced cheeses you'd brought over earlier and offer it to Holly, who waves you off in favor of watching (staring at, really) your girlfriend.
"I told you, didn't I? I wasn't lying." You can't help the slightly smug tone in your voice as you survey your cousin's awed expression.
"I know, sugar, and I believed you - really I did. I just...I don't think I quite grasped the scope of the thing. She is actually perfect. Seriously, Honeybee. Just...wow."
Your grin spreads even further, until your cheeks ache so much you think they might just give up and fall off from overwork. "I know, right?" You're proud, of course you're proud. But for the first time in your life, you can't help but feel just a little bit full of yourself. As you and Holly watch Santana wrestle stubbornly with the huge tree - she insisted she could set it up herself when you bought it, and you know better than to try and interfere before she asks - you let a tiny feeling of self-satisfaction color your love for her. Sure a lot of times she's grumpy and stubborn and steals the covers at night, but she's yours. It's pretty freakin' awesome.
Tearing your eyes away from the tiny woman slowly being eaten alive by a Christmas tree in her living room, you turn back to your cousin. You have to shoulder her roughly to get her attention.
"Ass? I mean, huh?"
You roll your eyes and fight back an exasperated sigh. And people think you're the oblivious one.
"So, you'll help me, right?"
"Help you? With her? Jesus, yes, I'll start right now-" Holly jerks off the counter and starts marching towards your girlfriend with a decidedly hungry glint in her eyes, but pulls up short when your hand circles around her wrist. Tightly.
"Ha ha, Holls, funny. So funny."
"Brittany, there is nothing funny about that woman's backside. Like, seriously, it's perfectly round! Perfectly! I mean, how does nature allow that woman to exist without just collapsing in on itself?"
You sigh and look over just in time to see Santana bend at the waist to shoulder the tree closer into position. Out of the corner of your eye a motion catches your attention and you glance over to see that Holly's head has tipped at nearly exactly the same degree yours has. Okay, now it's getting a little embarrassing.
"Holly," you hiss under your breath.
"What? You were staring too!"
"Yeah, because she's my girlfriend."
"Alright, alright, you don't have to rub it in. Unless of course you'll let me-"
"Don't even finish that sentence. Just don't."
"Party pooper."
"Perv."
"Whatever."
You both roll your eyes and burst into giggles at exactly the same time. Once you've both calmed down, you grab the older woman's hand to make sure she's giving you all of her attention.
"Holls, I'm really nervous. Santana hasn't met Daddy yet, and I...I'm really nervous about it."
She rubs your arm in sympathy - she knows you and your father better than anyone else in the family, having practically raised you after your mother died. She knows how protective he is of you. You're all he's got left.
"I know, Honeybee, but I honestly think it'll be okay. Santana really is just about as close to perfect for you as anyone can get, and it is just disgustingly obvious how head over heels for you she is. I mean, seriously B. It's a little gross."
You giggle and smack her hand lightly to cover the blush creeping over your cheeks, but you're sure it shows anyways. You're not exactly subtle either, you know.
"Okay, you can tell that, and I can tell that, but Daddy…" You sigh tiredly. He means well, he really does.
"Your dad is just a little bit obtuse when it comes to you, that's all. But yes, to answer your question, I'll help. I will happily be witness to your lovely girlfriend's fine…" her eyes drift over to Santana, who is now on her hands and knees and buried up to her shoulders in the tree, trying to fasten the trunk into the base. "Fine, fine character," she finishes teasingly.
You roll your eyes again, but really, you can't blame her for staring. Santana really does have a fine...character.