AN: Inspiration struck and I quick wrote this little ficlet. It's all fluff but I hope you enjoy the cute!
"Mama! Ow!" the four year shrieked, jerking her head out of her mother's grip. The action caused her to scream again, tears filling her eyes.
"Sugar," Santana said carefully, aware that her daughter was moments away from what could be a full blown tantrum. "You have to let me finish your hair so it looks pretty for your dance show."
The little girl stomped her foot, a scowl taking over her face. "No! Stop pulling my hair."
"I'm not pulling your hair," Santana reasoned. "Sit back down so I can finish." She gently guided Sugar back to the kitchen chair and tried to piece out the strands of the braid she had been working on.
"Owww!" Sugar howled the moment Santana tugged her hair in the slightest. She tried to squirm away, crying, "Mama, you're hurting my head."
Santana let out an exasperated sigh, losing the placement of the slippery brown strands with her daughter's movements. "It won't hurt if you sit still!"
"No!" Sugar stood up from the chair away. "Stop! I want my hair like this." She gestured to the half-finished braid that was already starting to fall out.
"You can't dance if your hair is in your face," Santana argued, her point proven as not quiet grown out bangs slid over Sugar's eyes.
"Yes I can!" Sugar glared up at her mother.
"What is going on in here?" Brittany asked as she entered the kitchen.
"Mommy!" Sugar cried, darting over to wrap her arms around Brittany's hips. She tilted her neck backwards, straining to see past a swollen stomach, and met her mom's gaze with a pathetic pout. "Mama's pulling my hair."
"Britt, I told you to take a nap," Santana sighed. "You need rest if you're really going to go to this show." Her tone made it clear that she didn't think a preschool dance recital was the best activity for her wife that evening.
"I'm going, San." She left no room for argument, as she bent down slightly to look at Sugar. "I would never miss seeing our baby dance."
Sugar grinned up at her mom. "I'm going to be awesome."
"Of course you are!" Brittany stroked her cheek affectionately. "But you have to let your mama fix your hair first."
Her little head shook back and forth, causing even more strands to fly out of her destroyed braid. "No, I want you to do it, Mommy."
Brittany's eyes widened with an expression of mock-surprise. "Why? Your mama's the best hair-braider in the whole world."
"Really?" Sugar looked doubtful, but intrigued.
"Totally." Blue eyes glanced at Santana with a sparkle. "She used to do my hair before all my dance competitions."
"That part's true at least," Santana muttered.
"Want to see her do my hair first?" Brittany suggested.
Sugar nodded enthusiastically, and Santana glanced at the clock on the stove, trying to decide if they had time to put on this little show and still have Sugar to the auditorium on time. It seemed Brittany had already made up her mind as she moved toward the chair that Sugar had vacated, her nine-months-pregnant stomach transforming her usually graceful movements into something that most closely resembled a waddle.
"Okay," Santana agreed, deciding they had time. "Watch how Mommy stays nice and still so that I don't pull her hair."
Brittany turned in her seat with a wicked smirk. "Sometimes you pull my hair." Her voice was so quiet that Santana practically had to read her lips to figure out what say was saying.
"Oh hush." Santana swatted at her shoulder, as a flush warmed her cheeks just slightly.
Gentle hands gathered loose strands of blonde hair as Sugar crowded close, squeezing onto what remained of Brittany's lap to watch. Santana teased her fingers through her wife's hair, working out the few tangles as she divided it into three parts near the headline. Brittany's hair lacked the baby-softness of Sugar's, but it had taken on a silky shine in her pregnancy and felt thick in Santana's grip. Muscle memory took over as she worked it into an even plait. It was looser than the ones she used to weave for dance competitions, letting the curves of Brittany's face keep their softness.
"There," Santana announced when she finished, twisting a hair tie around the end, giving the braid an affectionate tug and ghosting her fingers over the wisps of hair on Brittany's bare neck.
"Wow!" Sugar exclaimed, scrambling off of Brittany to see the view from behind. Santana caught her under the arms and boosted her up so she could get a better look. She patted blonde hair with pudgy fingers. "You did really good, Mama."
"Ready to let me do yours?" Santana asked.
"Yes!" Sugar squealed. "I'll be so still this time!"
Santana dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "I know, baby girl. Let's get you ready."
"Do you need help with that?"
Sugar glanced into the mirror to see her mother – no, she corrected herself, Santana – standing behind her with a doubtful expression on her face.
Though desperate for attention from one of the people she loved most in the world, Sugar kept up her Motta-façade with an aloof, "No thanks, I've got this."
To her surprise, Santana ignored her and came up close, batting her hands away from where they had been attempting to get her hair to cooperate for their Troubletones performance. Sugar let her arms fall heavily onto her lap, fingers tingling from working for too long behind her head.
Sure fingers smoothed through her hair as they had hundreds of times before. Though only in Sugar's reality; for Santana, those moments hadn't happened yet. Instead of getting boggled by the complexities of time-travel, Sugar let herself relax under the soothing touch that reminded her of dance recitals and early mornings getting ready for school.
Sugar smirked inwardly at the fact that she found the memories comforting. More often than not, there had been yelling and arguments that accompanied any hairstyling. Sugar had never been given reason to doubt her mother's love, but their personalities were both so strong and so similar that the fights had been nearly outside their control.
"You're good at this," Sugar observed as Santana managed to get her hair to lay smooth, without the lumps that had resulted when Sugar had tried.
Santana shrugged, and reached for the hairspray. Sugar leaned over to help, but Santana tugged lightly with the hand still in her hair.
"Don't move," she scolded. "You'll mess it up."
Sugar couldn't stop the grin that took over her face at that comment. It was like she was four years old again, her mother trying to get her ready for her first dance show. She remembered that evening vividly, probably because of the panic that had struck her when she finished dancing and neither of her moms had been there to congratulate her. Instead, her Aunt Rachel had found her and informed her that her new baby brother was waiting at the hospital. Years later, she had finally heard the story of how he had nearly been born in a cab since her mom had refused to admit she was in labor until Sugar had finished dancing.
"How's that?" Santana asked after caking on so much hairspray that Sugar was sure her hair would crack if she touched it.
"I look awesome," Sugar declared confidently.
Santana scoffed. "Not as awesome as me." She preened in the mirror, pressing her breasts together and tugging on her dress until her cleavage popped.
"You're nervous," Sugar stated bluntly, recognizing the mannerisms immediately.
"I am not!" Santana shot back.
"You are," Sugar countered. "And I hope you know showing off your boobs won't make you sing any better."
Sugar knew she had won when the tan complexion wasn't enough to hid reddening cheeks. Maybe it was unfair to use the advantage of living with someone for sixteen years in a reality that they didn't remember, but Sugar couldn't bring herself to care when Santana turned and sat down on the vanity table.
"I'm nervous," Santana admitted quietly. "There's a lot of pressure not to mess this up. I bitched for so long about not getting solos, and now I have to prove that I deserved them."
It was jarring to see the teenage-version of her mother so open and honest. Sugar had gotten used to the standoffishness, and this confession reminded her more of the adult that Santana would one day become.
"You definitely deserved them," Sugar assured her.
"Do you think so?" Santana was quiet, vulnerable.
"Yes. Your voice is amazing, Ma – ma'am." She corrected her slipup awkwardly.
Santana didn't seem to notice, and continued with, "I hope so. I just feel - "
Sugar never got to find other what Santana felt because at that moment Brittany came running over to them, and the entirety of Santana's attention was diverted. Brittany's hair and makeup was perfect, but she was still in her street clothes.
The reason was explained when she exclaimed, "I can't find my dress, San."
"What?" Santana's brow furrowed and she slipped off the vanity table to go over to Brittany, fingers lightly encircling her upper arm. Her moms had been like that as long as Sugar could remember, with the constant need to be touching each other in some way. "How did you lose your dress, Britt?" Her voice was not accusatory, just gentle with a genuine desire to understand.
"I don't know!" Brittany cried. "I had it home to make sure I could dance in it, but I know I put it back in my bag. I think Tubbs might have taken it out – he was always loyal to the New Directions."
"Hey, relax," Santana said, rubbing down Brittany's arm and taking her hand. "I'll help you look for it."
They walked away together, hand-in-hand, without a backwards glance at Sugar. She knew they weren't her moms yet, but it hurt to see them so wrapped up in each other that they ignored her completely. It wasn't something that she had ever experienced growing up and it made her ache to return home.
She picked at her nails for a few minutes, wondering if everything would be okay if she left now. Her moms needed to get together if she was to ever exist, but she did exist so clearly they had. But maybe it was only because of something she had done on this trip through time and maybe she hadn't done it yet.
The complexities of time-travel were quickly giving her a migraine. She didn't understand it, despite carefully hanging on to every explanation that Brittany had ever given her. Except, of course, the lecture about how messing with the timeline could be very dangerous and that she wasn't ever to try it alone. Too late for that.
Her thought were interrupted as Shelby clapped her hands, urging them all to gather round. "We're on in five, ladies."
"Where are Brittany and Santana?" Mercedes questioned, looking more annoyed than concerned by their absence.
She was answered as the girls in question stumbled around the corner. Brittany had found her dress and all four of their hands were somehow entwined as they giggled, their heads close together.
Sugar looked at them, so happy and clearly in love, and her answer was obvious: Her moms would be okay. There wasn't anything that she had to do to make sure they ended up together.
It was fate.