Hadn't planned on continuing this, but more popped into my head. I'm glad y'all love the idea of Brittany and Santana as batty old women as much as I do. Fact: they were partially inspired by Arnold's grandparents on Hey Arnold. There will be at least one more chapter after this one.
Many thanks to Skillzyo who is an amazing beta and an even more spectacular writer.
Clementine chewed on her eraser while trying to concentrate on her homework. Fourth grade math was the worst and her grandmothers were too busy to help her. From her seat in the kitchen, she could see Granny Snix out in the garden tending to the sugar peas and humming some tune that sounded about a hundred years old. In a weird way, it reminded Clementine of her mother, although she wasn't entirely sure why.
"I met him out for dinner on a Friday night," Granny Snix muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Clementine to hear through the screen door. "He really got me workin' up an appetite-" That was as far as Granny Snix got before her cough set in, however. "Damn cigars," she wheezed, causing Clementine to giggle. "Clem? Don't ever start smoking."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not nearly as cool as it looks! Just– promise me you won't."
"Did Sugar?"
Calling her own mother by her first name sounded foreign on Clementine's lips, but she'd never really known her so she figured it was okay. Recently she'd wanted to learn more about her mom, which thrilled her grandmothers to no end. They finally had someone to talk to about their crazy conspiracy theories and since Clementine didn't have anyone else she could ask, she had to accept everything they told her as the truth.
"Nope," Granny Snix replied. "It was bad enough she was having sex– you know what? We'll have that talk when you're older. Now where's Britt?"
Clementine shrugged. Brittzle was probably tinkering around in the basement while the Duke of Windsor did their taxes. Or at least, Brittzle claimed he did the taxes, but Clementine didn't know any other dachshunds who knew how to work a calculator, and if he could do that, why couldn't he help her with fractions?
She shook that thought right out of her head. She was starting to sound just like her grandmothers.
"Clear off the table in a minute," Granny Snix told her. "We're having company."
It was the first Clementine had heard of it. They almost never had visitors except when her other set of grandparents dropped by. Grandpa and Grandma H. were super dull in comparison so Clementine was secretly glad they rarely came around and hoped they weren't coming tonight. "I have to finish my homework."
Granny Snix shrugged, making her way into the kitchen and placing her basket of peas on the counter. "Finish your homework, don't finish your homework. I'll probably love you either way."
"Who's coming over?" Clementine asked, genuine curiosity getting the better of her.
"You'll see."
"When?"
"When he gets here."
"He?"
"Yes, Clem, now clear the table. I'm sure Britt will help you with your homework later, sweetie," Granny Snix promised. "We don't want our guest thinking we live in a pig sty!"
Just then, all three of their pigs stampeded through the kitchen on their way to the backyard, oinking merrily.
"Huh," Granny Snix mused, "I haven't seen a beast with worse timing since Lord Tubbington."
Just then, Brittzle emerged from the basement with the Duke of Windsor in tow. "Experiments 933, 934, and 935 were unsuccessful," she noted gravely. Every time Brittzle came upstairs from her lab, she looked a little sadder than before and Clementine never understood why. The only thing that really cheered her up was a kiss from Granny Snix or Clementine herself.
Fortunately for Clementine, Granny Snix raced over to Brittzle. She was such a kiss hog.
"Trial and error, that's all it is, B," Granny Snix said, placing a comforting hand around her wife's waist. "Besides–"
The doorbell rang before she could finish her thought.
Brittzle perked up at the sound, her tired eyes suddenly sparkling. "Sugar?" she called.
"Nope," said a deep voice on the other side of the door, "but I'll take that nickname over Trouty Mouth any day."
"Sam!" Brittzle squealed, flinging open the door to reveal a man who Clementine had only seen in pictures.
"Hey, you old fart," Granny Snix greeted him with a hug.
"Who are you calling old, Grandma?" he kidded, returning the hug with a tight squeeze. "You got more grey hairs than you know what to do with!"
"Don't start with me, Sam Evans! I haven't seen you in years, which means I have plenty of mouth jokes."
Sam sighed. "I don't know how Brittany's put up with you all these years. I got sick of you after a month."
Granny Snix smacked him on the shoulder, earning her a reproachful look from Brittzle. "I dumped you, jackass," she said, whispering the last word, although Clementine could clearly hear everything they were saying.
The thought of her Granny dating any man had never occurred to Clementine and the feeling was… strange.
Or maybe it was the fact that her grandmothers had dated other people.
She wasn't really sure.
It was then that Sam noticed her. "You must be Clementine," he said. "I've heard an awful lot about you."
She nodded shyly, unsure how to respond.
"That's a pretty necklace you're wearing," he commented.
She smiled, all traces of shyness suddenly gone. Sam was kind of nice; or at the very least nicer than Grandpa H. "Granny Snix and Brittzle gave it to me for my birthday," said Clementine.
"Really?" Sam asked. "All Santana ever gave me were headaches."
Granny Snix slugged him again for good measure.
"So," he said, "what's for dinner?"
Granny Snix and Brittzle exchanged glances.
"It's your turn to cook," her granny pointed out.
"Me?" Brittzle replied. "You're the one who invited him over. You cook!"
They both turned towards her. "Clem?"
Clementine shook her head. "I'm not allowed to use the stove."
Granny Snix gave them a mischievous smile that Clementine knew all too well. "Then there's only one solution," she said.
Thirty minutes later, Sam's whipped up a stack of pancakes that's almost as tall as Clementine. He looked a tiny bit annoyed, probably because he didn't come all this way to man a griddle for her crazy grandmothers, but he put smiley faces on all of them anyway.
"You always were the best at breakfast foods back in college," Brittzle told him.
"What were you the best at, Brittzle?" Clementine asked.
"Your school lunches don't pack themselves, Tangerine," Brittzle said, tapping the side of her head. Clementine hated when she called her by the wrong name, except when an occasional Sug slipped out. "And Santana here was the queen of ordering takeout for dinner."
"I still have at least twelve of their numbers memorized," Granny Snix bragged.
"So you three lived together in college? Is that when you met? When did you date Sam? When did you start dating Brittzle?"
"Slow down, honey," said Brittzle. "There will be plenty of time for that after Sam goes to the store and gets us some ice cream."
By the time they're finished with their ice cream sundaes, with extra hot fudge, Clementine knows more about Sam than she does her own parents. It's not surprising because they have never been a topic of discussion around the Pierce-Lopez household, not when there were animals to feed, gardens to tend, and precocious little girls to bathe and such.
Speaking of which, it was almost time for Clementine's bath, a nightly ritual she loathed. She had to use the same tub as her grandmothers, their three pigs, six cats, and the Duke of Windsor, though not at the same time.
"Only having one bathroom is a real pain in the ass," Granny Snix always said, and Clementine found she was most inclined to agree. The house was already too small for the three of them and with the addition of their ten pets, it was way too crowded.
But deep down, Clementine knew they couldn't move.
If they moved, Sugar wouldn't know where to find them if she ever made it out of 2011 or 2012, whichever the case was.
"If you spent a fraction of your time thinking about fractions instead of daydreaming, you'd understand your homework by now," Granny Snix said, snapping Clementine out of her daze. "But whatever you do, take a shower or something. You smell like a pig."
Slop, their only female hog, grunted in approval.
"Fine," Clementine mumbled, sluggish from too much ice cream.
She made it to the top stair before she needed a break so she sat down, where the Duke promptly joined her. From there, she curled up in the narrow hallway that led to the bathroom. She could hear the familiar clang of pots and pans and the sound of two of her favorite voices chastising their old friend for not offering to do the dishes.
When she woke up sometime later, the adults– if she could call them that– were still downstairs, only this time they were speaking in hushed tones.
"We were only able to conceive once, Sammy, and when Sug got pregnant, it was like a blessing in disguise. We'd forgotten how badly we wanted another child until our baby was going to have one." That was Brittzle, Clementine realized.
The next voice she heard was Granny Snix. "We pushed Sugar into keeping Clem and we– we– also pushed her into that dipshit's arms. He didn't want anything to do with their kid."
"I feel your pain," Sam said after a minute or two. "I'm just not sure what you want me to do."
"You write science fiction novels, don't you?"
Sam doesn't respond with words, but he must nod or something because the next thing Clementine knew, Brittzle was adding, "Maybe you can figure out what's wrong with my time machine."
"Science was never my strong suit, Britt," Sam admitted quietly. "I gotta tell you, Santana, when you called asking me for help, I did a little digging. You know what I found out? It's been over seven years since she disappeared. In the eyes of the law, she's legally dead."
"She's not dead and you know it," Granny Snix spat. "She's just… stuck and we can't figure out how to get her back!"
"I know," said Sam. "You had life insurance for her, didn't you? Claim the money. Use it to get Britt more materials or put it up as a little starter money so that maybe she can get a federal grant. Fluke or not, the first one she invented worked, right?"
"It was not a fucking fluke," Granny Snix replied. "Science has methods, okay? And she tried to recreate her experiment a million fucking times and it still hasn't worked. We need a second opinion or something."
"Sug must've done something to the machine right before she left," Brittzle whispered. "I just don't know what it was. I've tried over nine hundred times to duplicate it. And I can't."
At this point, Clementine crept down the stairs just far enough so that she could see into the dimly lit living room.
"I can't do this forever," Brittzle continued. "If I get to the 1,000th trial and my Sug isn't sitting in that time machine when I'm through, I quit."
"Brittany–"
"No, Santana. You called Sam on your own. I've about had enough living in the past, baby. Our granddaughter is our priority now."
Sam cleared his throat. "Um, I think I'm gonna go, but I'll help any way I can. I swear. Let me know, okay?"
He made his way toward the front door and Clementine froze in her hiding spot. She was only partially hidden by the shadows and she didn't want him to know she'd been spying, but by some miracle, he walked past her.
Her grandmothers, usually full of energy and life, looked exhausted.
Clementine wondered if this was how they always looked when she wasn't around.
It was at that moment she realized there were some things she might never understand, with fourth grade math being the least of her worries.