A/N: yo yo. So I drop some angst in here to fuck with Santana but i swear its not another #BrokenNose
Disclaimer: i hath no claim motherfuckers
Chapter 1
Mercedes Jones approaches the bitchy secretary of her lawyer, Santana Lopez, and clears her throat.
She was ignored.
Mercedes usually likes that Secretary Bitch doesn't flatter her for being one of the most famous musicians of the generation, but considering her latest legal troubles were because of negative press and her image being threatened, she didn't enjoy it at all. So, she clears it a little louder and then the young woman glares at her.
"What?"
"I'm here to see-"
"Becky!"
"—her." Mercedes is amused when the shout comes from the open office door and the secretary, Becky, rolls her eyes before standing up and gesturing Mercedes to follow.
"You want coffee, tea, water, juice, soda, or a hard candy to suck on?" The secretary asks her pointedly as they trek to the office. "She's all over the place since she got back so she'll probably forget to ask. She's rusty."
Finding the woman's considerate thought kind of nice but her disdain kind of not, Mercedes shakes her head and says, "no thanks, I'm good."
Becky rolls her eyes again – which Mercedes finds rude - and they both enter to find Santana sitting at her desk with a large stack of files on her left and a smaller stack on her right.
Inside the office, Mercedes finds her lawyer flipping absently through some pages and jabbing her pen here and there, not looking up as she speaks to her secretary's sigh of 'what do you want now?'
"Is Jones here yet? And I kind of hoped you'd take some initiative and scan all this shit so I could go paperless. You know my delicate fingers are susceptible to paper cuts."
"You told me to make sure you have a hard copy of everything printed out and locked in a secure place in case your electronic files ever malfunctioned," Becky says with some sass. "Make up your mind."
Mercedes raises her eyebrows, if anyone who worked for her spoke to her with that kind of attitude she'd knock them down a few pegs.
"I'm here, I'm here," Mercedes sits herself down on the leather couch and removes her enormous shades and over-the-top hat, looking surprised when Santana doesn't do much more than wave her secretary away and even give a brief apology.
When Becky stomps off, Mercedes is pretty sure that bitchy attitude is not a symptom of down syndrome.
Santana puts down the papers in her hands and sighs in relief at Mercedes being there. "Thank god you're here on time instead of your usual fashionably late crap. Listen, I have to keep this quick. I have an appointment of my own to keep today, so thank you for coming over but can we keep this as brief as possible?"
Mercedes nods and then points back to the open door where Becky left, "well, first off, do you know your secretary is total crap at her job? She was watching Netflix out there and has a rude tongue. I ain't dissing her handicap, just her attitude."
"She's a multi-tasker. So, slander, huh?" Santana switches the subject back to Mercedes and leans back in her chair.
"Someone is always trying to fuck up my life it's just never been so big a deal before – hold up, girl, what happened to your cheek? That's some scar…"
"A suitcase." Santana consciously touches her cheek. "And it's small. Barely noticeable."
"Um, I can see the little suture pattern or whatever. Ouch."
"Mercedes, concentrate, just - start from the beginning, leave out no detail."
"It's all total bullshit is what this is!" Mercedes huffs before standing up and pacing the space in front of Santana's desk. "My PR is useless and you were out of town honeymooning- hey when the hell did you get married anyways? It better be to that blonde Brittany, right? She was sweet."
"Yes," Santana proudly grabs the framed photo facing her on her desk and turns it around so Mercedes could see the two of them in their wedding dresses with light snow falling around them, "that was taken by photographer Eric Van-"
"Awww! This is the cutest thing I've ever seen, right after that video of the blind kittens!" Mercedes squeals, her hand reaching out to touch it.
"The frame is a gift from my sister-in-law, I don't want it scratched." Santana takes the frame back before Mercedes can do so, and spends a lingering moment setting it nicely back in place, unaware of Mercedes looking at her in amusement.
"Well, how was the honeymoon?"
Santana smirks wickedly and doesn't answer, "business first. Then if we have time I might humour your questions. So?"
"You said you almost invited me to your wedding, that makes us friends. I have no friends, you know. Everyone is after my money and fame." Mercedes's whole body sinks a little, and it's pitifully true. Santana does feel a little bad for her.
Santana gives her a patient look and says, "I don't have fame like you, Mercedes, but I'm your lawyer first and maybe next time we meet up we can do it over lunch or something – it's just that I really need to be somewhere before two o'clock. I'm not trying to be dismissive, just a little selfish."
Feeling comforted by her lawyer's words, Mercedes nods and starts telling her side of the tale, being brief and to the point even though her anger gets the better of her at some moments. She's reluctant when discussing some of her own faults but knows this has to be discussed and dealt with. Mercedes sits back down on the couch and sighs when she's finished telling Santana how misunderstandings have painted her in a negative light and lost her some 'friends' and fans.
A moment later, Santana sits besides her and says, "look. I read up the headlines which are so terrible I'm surprised people make a living off of spewing that crap. So apparently you're losing fans because people think you're a bible thumping lunatic, so what? You said it was all out of context, you've given me your honest version and I will do my part. If you want to successfully sue for slander I've got that handled but I recommend you hire yourself some new PR to make sure the fact that you're fighting what is being said about you publicly. I know a lady, real cutthroat, I'll set a meeting with her as soon as possible. Meanwhile, your net worth can take my litigation bills but your legacy needs the backup, you know? Your merchandising contracts we signed will hold through this, but if you want to renew them we'll definitely need to put this to rest. You're going to have a long few months ahead of you."
"I know it's just… this whole thing sucks. Sometimes I hate fame so much I want to be a normal girl who talks about normal things. Not someone who greets someone politely because she thought he was a fan but it turned out he was a bigoted shit! UGH."
Santana nods, trying not to make it obvious that she was glancing at the clock. She had to be at the fertility clinic to meet Brittany in an hour so she gave in and let Mercedes get some stuff off her chest she's been holding in. She decides not to charge her client for the second hour. Pro bono listening.
"Read about some history, there's always someone who gets screwed over. But let's make sure you're one of the people who comes out on top."
"You are the best lawyer ever," Mercedes thanks Santana for her words.
/
Ten times Brittany had been tricked into thinking one night stands were a good idea and nine times she had realized that was wrong. They were terrible ideas. Either someone's little sister started stalking you or that other person found out where you worked and begged you to date them. Or told both your families you were dating when you really weren't dating and it made things awkward.
Her conclusions were A) only clingy people were attracted to her and B) people were too clingy.
Obviously something about her was so awesome people needed another hit, but she never returned their clingy feelings and the whole point of one night stands was to avoid clingy feelings or hurting someone's feelings or making them feel used, because she never met anyone worth it and had no time for it and just hated feeling like the bad guy that told someone they weren't good enough for a second time or cup of coffee. She had things to do and experience, she had no time for relationships that would tie her down and stop her from living freely.
Then that special number ten one-night stand ended up being the love of her life, her lifetime wife, her hero in times of strife, the gym babe with a body that gave her life… her… her…
"Human knife?" Brittany murmurs out loud to herself, squinting her eyes in thought of how far her rhymes could carry. Santana was pretty good with knives. She chopped things super ninja fast because she practiced and horned the skill after seeing it on YouTube. How she never hurt herself with one of her Japanese knives but managed to sustain a suitcase to the face – Brittany wasn't exactly sure.
Anyways, that lady over there (engrossed hardcore in trying to beat her Fruit Ninja record) was hers. They even got married, which Brittany never thought she'd do. That drunken moment where she married her mirror reflection in protest of societal obligations after a heated argument with her mom on curfews and following rules where a young Brittany was so sure all she needed was herself in this world didn't count since there were no witnesses and she was sixteen. Underage.
"What is taking so long," Santana says with a groan a second later, putting her phone back into her purse because she was giving up the trials of Fruit Ninja to instead complain about how long they've been waiting for their two o'clock appointment with the gynecologist. It was now 2:30.
"I don't know, but I'm getting so bored I went from thinking about donuts to rhyming poetic lyric about 'ifes'… is 'rife' a word, by the way?"
"Yes it is, in fact I used that word to nail the coffin in my great debate Nationals win of my senior year … I said 'violence is rife, much like The Speaker's body odour,' so then I was a legend and that Speaker had to hand me my trophy… he was so pissed but, hey, he smelt bad. Someone had to say it. Turns out he used some kind of onion extract instead of deodorant to horde off voodoo, and the Debaters Board made him stop from a petition of a thousand signatures."
Santana says it with that tone she reserves for things she finds uniquely hilarious, and Brittany giggles with her.
"Thanks for the contextual explanation babe," Brittany smiles, imaging a teen Santana's call-out and knowing if they met way back then they would have been best friends, "I think I get it. Unfortunately it doesn't fit with my bus of thought."
"Bus of thought? Like a train of thought?"
"I wasn't thinking nearly as large as a train. Bus sized."
Santana chuckles and then closes her eyes. After a moment she says with some longing, "I miss our honeymoon."
"Me too," Brittany agrees. "And I can't believe we never role-played with you as Debate Captain."
"And, what, you my opponent?"
"Nah, I'd totally be the first place trophy."
Santana's face scrunches in confusion at how that would work and Brittany takes her hand. Might as well hold hands if things were taking so long.
"I have a gold leotard," Brittany helps her out. "Gold trophy."
"Ohhhhhh. Yeah, I could be into that. Just none of that ice cube stuff again."
"You didn't like the ice cubes?"
"They were cold. It was sexy, but just mostly cold."
"Yeah. Not our finest moment."
A receptionist finally appears from the shelves behind the reception desk, not smiling at all as she says flatly, "Dr. Zizes will see you now."
Brittany tenses next to her but then stands up quickly to follow the receptionist.
Santana rolls her eyes at the waiting time, but follows the leader to a private room where a hefty woman is ending a phone conversation and receptionist leaves them.
After a moment the doctor hangs up, and then turns to eye the two women with a snort, "seriously?"
"What?" Brittany and Santana ask at the same time, Brittany curiously and Santana defensively.
"You guys are the couple interested in artificial insemination?" The tone is partly suspicious and disbelieving.
"Yes, doctor," Santana narrows her eyes and snaps, "You are a doctor, right?"
The doctor lets out another sound that still comes across as condescending and pisses Santana off.
"So?" Brittany asks, handling the doctor's observation by trying to give the benefit of the doubt. "You're the doctor, we're the patients, it's no longer two o'clock, that's a chair – do you need constant statements to be able to do your job? I have an Uncle with Aspergers who kind of does that."
Their doctor's mouth opens like she knows she's being rude and Santana gives her an unimpressed eyebrow raise before cutting off her apology, "I'm a lawyer. Watch your bedside manner and do your fucking job."
With those words out of her wife's mouth, Brittany narrows her eyes dangerously at the doctor, her benefit of the doubt disproven, and then casually takes a seat on one of the plastic chairs.
Dr. Zizes's mouth drops open a little and her eyebrows shoot up in surprise and awareness that she's made a bad impression on patients. She promptly apologizes.
"Sorry, you guys just are not what I expected - in fact nothing at all what I expected. I honestly thought you showed up to the wrong appointment. Please forgive my behaviour. I promise, when it comes to inseminations we're the Number One Clinic for a reason – and I'm the best in the city. I'm just having a bad day. A terrible day. A horribly bad terrible day. I swear it was a horrible judgment on my part, I've had appointment mix-ups and just wanted to make sure you guys are the right couple."
Santana looks from the regretful doctor to her wife. She knows Brittany is probably over whatever just happened but was leaving the decision on whether or not to leave and find a new doctor up to her.
She sits down to give the woman a second chance, making a point to say out loud, "fine, Malpractice Waiting to Happen."
Offering a polite, professional smile that indicated none of the previous sass, the doctor starts.
"So, let me give you a background on A.I., first of all, Brittany Lopez is who Dr. Alvez faxed the charts for, so I assume that's who is carrying the baby?"
"Yeah, that's me," Brittany says immediately.
"Okay, Brittany, Dr. Alvez has deemed you in very fit condition to accept a pregnancy but I'm sure he's already told you that." Dr. Zizes smiles at her before asking, "Are you feeling prepared for this life change?"
Brittany nods confidently, "Sure. I'm really looking forward to experiencing the role of a pregnant woman in our society today, and how carrying a baby will evolve me."
"Um…"
Blinking, the doctor glances at the significant other who is nodding her head in support to say, "she's prepared, we're both prepared."
The couple exchanges a look Lauren has seen a few times – equal excitement, confidence, nerves, and fright.
"Right, then. So, we can do a test to see if you're ovulating and get this show on the road today if you both have time? I have a cancellation right after you so I'd have time to attempt an IUI, if we're feeling confident today?"
Santana's eyes bulge, "wait, today?"
The doctor turns her head to Brittany who also has her eyes widened at this option. People are often alarmed at how quick they can attempt artificial insemination, but she thinks these two are more alarmed because they only made an appointment for consultation. She hopes they go for it today, business has been slow this week. She just had a cancellation.
"Yep, this is America," Dr. Zizes nods, "If you're not ovulating, Brittany, you can come back when you are. We've got a ton of anonymous screened donors for you to select from here in the clinic. If you've ever had a pap smear, the process feels like that."
Brittany hears Santana ask with a surprisingly calm voice, "How long would it take?"
"Well, first I'll do a quick checkup now, and we'll determine the success rate of an attempt and go from there. If we do attempt to inseminate today, it will take maybe thirty minutes for the specimen to be ready and, well, the procedure itself will be short. But then I'd like you to stay and lie down afterwards so the egg has a better chance of being fertilized... so that would be another forty minutes. I guess, around two hours? That should give you some time to choose a donor as well. "
"We just," Brittany says thoughtfully after a moment, "didn't come in today with this being a possibility. Can you give us a moment alone please?"
"Sure," Dr. Zizes says in understanding, leaving the room to give them some privacy.
Santana turns to Brittany and says, "so this day just got more interesting… and can I just point out that I got you that ovulation predictor kit and you said it was useless but you used it anyways and, voila, you and I both already know you're ovulating."
Brittany laughs, "okay fine, it wasn't useless after all. So? Should we try today or wait?"
"I don't know," comes the hesitant mumble before, "Hold up. Wait. I just realized…"
"What?" Brittany turns to her.
"It's my birthday tomorrow. The timing is... kind of interesting. Weirdly interesting. It's like a dare to go for it."
"It is, isn't it?" Brittany smiles tenderly at Santana's oddly hopeful expression, as if her birthday was a sign of confidence. Brittany found that cute. "Well, I'm in if you're in. If you're having a freak-out moment, though, then we can wait. I don't want you to feel pressured and, more importantly, I know how cranky you get when your planned schedule teeters."
"Babe," Santana is absolutely serious when she says, "I'm in. I mean, it's only five hundred dollars for an attempt, right? So, if it fails we try again. And, really, what's the difference between trying today or later?"
"The timing, Santana. Today is today and later is later."
"Right, I know. But, little timing. In the grand scheme of things we were intending on doing this by the end of the month. I think I'd prefer sooner rather than later."
"Yeah?" Brittany asks to make sure.
"Yeah. Let's do it."
They share a smile and even find themselves sharing a quick embrace, holding on to each other. Brittany realizes they're both awfully clingy, and it makes her laugh.
Brittany feels butterflies in her stomach when Dr. Zizes walks back in, something in her gut telling her that her life's about to change.
/
"I have this gut feeling that it took," Brittany says as her car slows into a pause before a red light. "Like as soon as we decided, I swear I knew. Is that my mother's intuition starting to present itself in preparation of being a mother?"
"Well, considering you're driving kind of fast, that's probably helping the gravity do its thaaang," Santana drawls playfully with a smirk. "And mother's intuition is a total myth. It's really just parental observation expanded by close observation of habits and patterns."
"Wait, isn't that what intuition is?"
Santana opens her mouth to argue before she leans back and rolls her eyes at herself, "HA. Yeah, it is. Ugh, I am so off my game."
"I think you've got game," Brittany tells her sweetly before she considers Santana and how Santana doesn't have her work bag with her, "you aren't heading back to the office tonight are you? Because I know you're trying to catch up after being gone for so long but then you'd be ditching me right after I got artificially inseminated and I'd probably get mad at you."
"Nah. While I did leave my bag there in my rush, I'll just get it tomorrow when you're sleeping in."
"If working on your birthday makes you happy you are allowed," Brittany tells her with a teasing grin.
"HA. Very funny. I have to go pick up Sepp though, and I booked a hair appointment. I found a split end."
"Mhmm."
"Yeah."
"What do you want to do tomorrow to celebrate? Besides the birthday sex, I mean."
Santana grins cheekily, "let me think about it."
"That was stupid," Brittany passes the comment on the car that ran a red light and got caught by the flash of a ticket. "Everyone knows where the cameras are."
"I'm also going to the gym tomorrow by the way. To work out." Santana says it so quickly, Brittany barely has a moment to ponder that before she speaks again, "Your sister was at the office, by the way. She's really thrown herself into work to get over the addiction. Work and yoga."
"I think it's a good thing?" Brittany says, "I mean, she's really busy all the time and I miss her but she's really finding herself… and she's healthy."
"That's the yoga. Want to drive around some more? Reflect on our decision today that according to your gut means we're going to be parents soon," Santana places her hand over Brittany's on the gearshift.
Brittany leans over and kisses Santana's cheek, where a still bruised scar marred it's surface with a reminisced pattern of the dissolved stitches, before the light turns green and she's off again with some speed. Driving was fun.
Santana takes her hand back from Brittany's to answer her dinging phone's chimes, and then a moment later (after promising Becky there was no work on her birthday) she speaks up again.
"Britt, do you think I could convince your mom to cook for my birthday? I did only marry you so I'd have the perks of her food, you know? I want my spoils."
"She'd love to, are you kidding?" Brittany says before teasing back, "and gosh you're so sweet."
Santana laughs at her exaggerated gushing.
"I'm going to ignore that you just said you married me for my mom's cooking because I only married you for your cooking, so… that makes us even."
"You're so romantic," Santana says with sarcasm, a large grin still on her face.
"Hmm. You started it."
They share another playful laugh and Santana covers a yawn, but enjoys the small joy ride they were taking. She notices where they are and thinks of the nearby spots.
"Say, Brittz, we're close to Richfield, right? Mind if we check out the houses?" She asks with some hope. "The grass is so green it soothes my soul."
"Now?" Brittany responds, not finding that route nearly as fun as the highway where she can speed more.
"Yeah," Santana perks up a little, "One day I'm going to buy a house there just for the principle of it, we don't even have to live in it, I just want to own it."
"You're a total weirdo."
"Oh really? And who out of us kept singing about 'I'm a kitty cat, I'm a kitty cat, and I dance dance dance and I dance dance dance' in the shower?"
"You sang it wrong. And my weirdness has nothing on buying a house and not living in it."
"But you don't like Richfield," Santana says casually, "So we wouldn't live there."
Brittany takes a left and drives into Richfield – a kind of upper class neighbourhood Santana loved a lot and Brittany didn't love at all. Houses here were mansion-like estates, but held a beauty of maintained uniqueness. It was a gorgeous neighbourhood, but Brittany found the pre-established mentality of rich white dads off-putting.
People who lived there did so based off old money family names. The big mansions in the centre were the ones Santana liked looking at (because of the green, green grass) – and Brittany knows that someone like Santana who always wanted better for herself was inevitably going to succeed in getting a house here.
Would living there be so bad, though? She's always disliked the idea of pretentious old money families who have privilege. She was raised with privilege but Richfield was a whole other kind of privilege. She would love for Santana to have her dream house.
"That garden though," Santana says in appreciation of someone's front lawn. "The fountain looks stupid but otherwise I love it."
Brittany stares at the estates as they slowly drive around within the residential speed limit. Richfield suited Santana, and Santana really liked this part of town because of the 'serenity' as she called it. It was quiet, one of the safest, and even had it's own mayor which was made it a small town more than a neighbourhood.
Brittany realizes she actually was willing to give the place a try, even though she disliked the whole snobby attitude of the community ever since she was little (where girls she went to school with tried to date Richfield boys and fit into the high society bullshit, cough Joanna cough).
If Santana liked it… yes, she was at least willing to give it a try. And she wouldn't mind moving to Richfield and disrupting the whole Stepford vibe it had with some style.
"Sepp would like Richfield High," Santana mentions offhandedly. "More than boarding school. I could probably get him a spot."
Brittany agreed with Sepp liking it, he would fit in really well there and would be of age to get into ninth grade after the summer. She knew he especially wanted to go to school with Jeremy Pearsons, Joanna Pearsons' son, who lived in Richfield and attended the Richfield prep schools.
Joanna's husband was one of the old money families, so when his parents passed away they inherited the Pearsons mansion – on the place they were just driving by.
Santana's phone goes off again, this time a call, and she answers it. Brittany's eye catches sight of that very creepy, haunted looking house with a great size of land. It was nearby Joanna and Joanna was always complaining about how unsightly it was. It was privately owned – and she had an odd thought.
No one sold in Richfield, probably not even whoever owned that creepy house, but it had been unlived in for ages and there was no harm in investigating, right?
Maybe it was the whole psychology of possibly being with child very soon, but with Santana's voice murmuring next to her (and quietly calming down a client who was grieving the death of a loved one) as her Audi zoomed right by the property, something just clicked in her mind that she should look up the place.
They get home and Santana gives her apologetic eyes before continuing her phone call on from the couch. Brittany gets out her laptop while Santana is preoccupied and looks up the address, 603 North Richfield.
Some old news headlines about an unfortunate fire show up. Brittany remembers some of the rumours about the fire – arson by a jealous blue-collar lover of the family's only daughter.
After searching the family history in Richfield archives, she finds that the property is listed to the widowed husband who allegedly got cheated on by his wife who burned in the fire. He lived in Texas now but his information wasn't listed. Within a minute of digging around Texas addresses, she finds his phone number.
She looks at Santana who is rubbing her temples and telling whoever is on the phone to stop talking and listen, and Brittany grabs their landline before phoning the guy.
She speaks with him for only ten minutes and he's totally open to selling – apparently wanting fairer market price, which the Richfield community was trying to rob him of. He gives her the number for his realtor and quotes her a down payment.
"Brittany," Santana comes into the bedroom and yawns, "what do you want for dinner?"
"What are you doing tomorrow at ten?" Brittany asks with an excited smile.
Santana sits down on the bed next to her, "just um, going to the gym remember? And then hair and then Sepp. Why?"
She says it very quickly like she did before but Brittany is too excited to notice.
"After the gym can you spare maybe half an hour, say nine in the morning?"
"Yeah, sure," Santana says, curiously. "Why would you be up at nine in the morning on a Sunday? Why would you be up at nine in the morning, ever?"
"Wait for it… wait for it… I might have found you the Richfield house. We can check it out."
/
Brittany frowns at the rotting wood on the porch of the small house. This place was depressing and smelt funny, but this was the place. She was sure of it. Even though it looked even more horrid up close than from afar, she had a good feeling about making it work.
And today was Santana's birthday, so she was especially sure of it.
"I love it." Her smile is bright in the sunny day, and she's not deterred by the chilly weather that is making this realtor keep rubbing his hands together impatiently.
The realtor, Justin Berkley, who had not stopped looking at her like she was on crack, spoke like this was a waste of time.
"No one's buying it in this economy and the seller is getting pretty desperate he's been posting ads spontaneously but everyone wants him to lower the price which he refuses to do – it's always been a bad luck property. Are you sure you don't want to look at the cute houses on Remington in the suburb not far from here? It's no Richfield, but properties are way hotter there, more for less, and I got an in on one four-bedroom-three-bathroom beauty."
Brittany turns to him with a passive glance, "my parents live on Remington. I grew up there, so I'm not really wanting to raise my own kids there. I'd prefer this neighbourhood specifically."
"Oh…" he awkwardly stares at her and her determination to purchase the most unsightly property known in his years for a price that was way too expensive for what it was worth – in his opinion. He didn't understand why the guy refused the community's offer, no one else (until this weird blonde) had offered what he wanted.
"Does the owner know you send people who want to buy his house away?"
This causes the realtor to splutter, "T-There's rumours of it being haunted, Mrs. Lopez. There's a reason no one wants to buy it, and the Richfield community is also proposing the land be mowed down and built into a water fountain or something but the owner wants to sell it privately first, he gets more money that way. I'm looking out for him and you're not the first person to be interested. Someone always says yes to me and then tries to make some deal and he gets annoyed."
"Well, I'm not superstitious so the haunted thing is cool. Plus, we're probably going to tear it down and build it up again. We're fine with the asking price, I've already spoken with Mr. Owner personally, he's the one who gave me your number."
She gives him an unimpressed look. She already said that, didn't she?
From the surprise on his face, apparently not.
"Oh?" he looks at her differently now, more seriously with the knowledge that she had spoken directly to his charge, "your husband into that stuff? If you rebuild it I know some -"
"Wife." Brittany says to him to make him stop talking.
He makes another stunned face and says, "oh."
A car door is heard slamming shut, and Santana is walking up the non-existent driveway as the cab that dropped her there with her workbag and gym bag drives off. She's still in gym clothes from the morning – which makes Brittany frown because Santana is usually showered and changed after the gym - and lifts her aviators into her hair when she's finished walking up the porch steps and greets them both by saying, "this place is nastier up close. And it smells."
Brittany is undeterred with that first impression, she did have the same one after all. The realtor shoots her a smug smile like he thinks Brittany's plan to buy has fallen through and that makes him right, and Brittany hates him.
She knows that Santana has vision. It's one of the things she's always liked most about her, so she pitches the vision.
"This guy sucks at his job, don't listen to him," she whispers lowly to Santana before saying more audibly. "It needs a good renovation but… something about it just…"
Santana still isn't impressed, but she gives it a moment and looks from Brittany back to the 'haunted' house.
"Babe, this isn't really what I meant when I said buy a house in Richfield. I wanted one of them big-ass mansions, you know? With green grass, not weed galore."
"This can be made into a big-ass mansion."
"The land needs to be gardened with a chainsaw. It needs a hell of a lot of renovation. It needs a…" Santana stares at it and her words teeter off. She takes the view in more seriously now.
"How much is it again?" Santana mumbles, now as if in a trance.
Brittany shoots Justin a smirk.
"So we tear it down, build a custom house, landscape…" Santana suddenly gets perky right on cue, "oh my god, I totally see it! And we can get a circle driveway, I love circle driveways. You don't have to back out of circle driveways."
"Yes. And happy birthday to you-" she kisses Santana's cheek, "-we buy this place and you can get all your weird home and garden fantasies out of your system."
Santana's smile is very excited now, "I totally see it. Happy birthday me. Awesome. How has no one else thought of this? This is perfect."
"We got the down payment ready to go," Brittany says to Justin, a smile creeping up on her lips, glad she did something right.
"Sweet," Santana says to her when the realtor picks up the phone to call the owner and set up the money transfer, walking away from them. "Thank you, Brittany."
She feels proud of herself when she sees Santana eagerly start to brainstorm the property, but frowns when she realizes Santana smelt nothing like the gym when they shared a hug and quick 'we are totally buying a house' kiss.
"You went to the gym right?" She sneakily takes a sniff and – yep – no gym sweat at all.
"Yeah," Santana says flippantly, not making eye contact with her by pulling her aviators back down
Brittany tries not to think about it too much. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth.
"Let's grab some celebration lunch while the bank does the transfer," Santana offers, as they head back to the Audi.
Throughout lunch, Brittany forgets about Santana's curious fib when her wife chats about in excitement for their new house and all of the ideas she has. Santana leaves for her hair appointment, still in her non-sweaty gym clothes, and Brittany goes to see Quinn who keeps whining about making time for each other to get the fact that Santana was hiding something from her off of her mind.
/
"Wow."
"Yeah," Brittany says dreamily, still able to feel the sand in her toes from the image she was looking at, and the feeling of euphoria when she snapped that photo. A lot of that euphoria had to do with Santana's bikini-beach profile at the time. It was Maxim level hot.
"WOW," Quinn says again, when the next picture of a sunset and Santana (again) with windblown hair in the corner captures every beauty Brittany saw in that moment.
"It was pretty awesome," Brittany agrees with Quinn who is flicking through the photos on Brittany's Macbook, her jaw dropping further every now and then.
"I mean, there's way too many photos of Santana in a bikini and her body is stupidly well proportioned and more toned than you'd think, but… holy shit." She groans in envy and closes the laptop shut.
"That's Hawaii for you," Brittany takes a sip from the mug of weird tea her cousin had given her while she visited.
"No, everywhere you guys went," Quinn starts rummaging through her fridge for a snack to make them.
"Oh, yeah. Hot tubs in the Swiss Alps, she loves hot tubs. I also now love hot tubs because we had so many hot tub make out sessions-"
"TMI!" Quinn closes the fridge with her back and dumps some cold cuts on the kitchen table.
"It's a honeymoon, Quinn, that's what the whole purpose is for honeymoons. Sex. You're the one who asked."
Usually she would tell her little sister about the great sex, but Gracie was celibate now and Brittany tried to help by keeping sex talk more PG. Or non-existent. These days they talked about everything except sex and Brittany actually liked it – her sister was really clever and she enjoyed their anthropological conversations. Or their So You Think You Can Dance conversations.
"I asked for tales of food and scenery – not the 'where Brittana did the nasty' list. Honeymoons are private vacations you take with your newlywed to get to know them better. I'm sure you didn't just have sex all the time."
"Honeymoons are all about intimacy and seclusion. That's a system for sex, Quinn. And that's how you get to know them better, I mean I don't know how you and Mike do it but sex is a trust-building special connection… and it's fun."
"Whatever," Quinn says with a blush. She's still every bit the prude in comparison to Brittany. "Those Greece photos, though. Ugh. I want to go there. I'm happy for you, you hit up a lot of that list you made when we were seniors in high school and our parents were making us pick college and you said you'd rather travel. God, they were so mad you when you flew to Germany with Gwen and Kyle."
Gwen and Kyle were her best friends in high school, along with Tina. She hadn't seen or heard from them (or thought about them, oops) in years because when they went back home after their Germany beer trip, the two of them went to college and slowly fell out of touch with her because of the distance. That and Brittany lost her phone and got a new number.
Actually, she totally should have invited them to her wedding and looked them up. Now she felt kind of bad.
Then again, they knew where she lived as well. They could have looked her up.
"Thanks," Brittany smiles at her cousin, "it was a dream come true. Thanks to dating Santana in the first place I had so much travel money saved up, you know?"
Quinn laughs at Brittany's joke and then lets out a yawn before asking, "what was your fav place you visited?"
"Ohhh… um, Hong Kong. It was like I took mushrooms there was so much shit going on. And Santana had this translator on her smart phone to speak Mandarin but they speak Cantonese there so this ninety-year-old Chinese woman gave her the middle finger. I wish I caught it on video, it was so funny!"
Quinn laughs with her cousin at the image of Santana being flipped off, happy to see the happiness Brittany had reminiscing her long, wonderful honeymoon of globetrotting. Sure Quinn was envious, but her happiness for her free-soul cousin outweighed that.
Seeing Brittany achieve things she'd set out to do in life ever since Quinn had known her made Quinn feel more capable as well, like it was her time to achieve more soon too.
"But there was that Chinese guy in the photos with you that you guys hired, right? Didn't he translate?"
"Yeah, yeah. Tuen. He was cool, he's a med student and took us around on tour. We didn't hire him though, the travel agent did. You know how Santana is, she needed to research every place we visited and have emergency plans in case our safety was threatened. And she didn't like Tuen because he kept recommending food she thought was gross. I loved the food though."
"What do you mean emergency plans?" Quinn asks with some malicious interest, hoping it was teasing material. She needed more things to make fun of her old roommate with because in the insult game Santana was ahead of everyone. "Please tell me she had, I don't know, like a fanny pack with first aid – she had three first aid kits in our apartment, you know. One in the kitchen, one in the bathroom, and one in her closet."
Quinn smiles fondly at the memory, it was one of the few things she had known about Santana before when they had been roommates. She knew her a lot better now that Santana was married to Brittany and not always in her room studying. Wow, that time of her life felt distant and Quinn felt old all of a sudden.
Brittany pouts at Quinn, "why are you obsessed with teasing her? She may insist we have a lot of first aid kits but she's a total babe… and she would never wear a fanny pack."
Quinn giggles.
"She was more about," Brittany says with some exasperation at her giggling cousin, "like, offshore accounts and addresses of embassies and this stupid GPS tracker she made us wear in case we got separated."
"That's sweet and very smart," Quinn stops giggling, finding it sweet.
"Well, the GPS needed specialized batteries to be charged and she forgot it so it was useless. But, yeah, I traded them for some silk scarves in India so it was handy to have. She's a great travel companion that way. And she'd be a great mo-" Brittany clamps her mouth shut before finishing the word 'mother,' pretending to cough on the tea. She glances up at her cousin to see if Quinn caught it. But Quinn is busy with her own thoughts and Brittany consciously touches her stomach and wonders for the hundredth time that day if she was pregnant. She had been inseminated yesterday, and the thought would hit her at the random-est of times.
Like last night after she told Santana about the Richfield house. They made out on the couch and things would have usually escalated, except they remembered the possible pregnancy and decided to just cuddle instead. It killed the mood a little, thinking about being inseminated.
But, tonight she was totally going to rock Santana's world. She had a plan: a bath, candles, a playlist, and that champagne Santana liked best. Done.
Quinn makes a noise in her throat and shares nervously, "Mike wants me to go visit his extended family in China. I could use an interpreter, maybe pass me that Tuen guy's info? Mike has an Aunt and five cousins in Hong Kong, and his mom goes back every summer to see them. They've invited me to go… that's serious, right?"
"You sound… kind of blaze about it."
"You mean blasé?"
"Yeah. What's up? His abs starting to loose their cut? Your balcony not quite catching the sunset like it used to?"
Quinn sighs, narrowing her eyes at Brittany's jokes and fighting the urge to laugh. "More like I can't tell if he's the guy I should have children with or not. How do you tell?"
"Well, there's this moment when things just click and you realize that you actually feel bad when your cat pees on their shoes and when you kiss them it's really hard to stop kissing them because the kisses are what kissing is, everything before that was not a kiss. It was a miss. Ya feel me?"
"Ugh. I'm so fucking jealous of you, getting a six-month honeymoon with someone you're so sure is it. You've got this tan and you're all glowing and a shining beacon of hope that true love exists. It's exhausting to look at you."
"And I'm pregnant."
"- and you're – WAIT. WHAT?"
"Psych. But seriously, I will be pregnant pretty soon."
"Pretty soon? What do you mean 'pretty soon'?"
Brittany gives Quinn a 'duh, put it together' look and then Quinn's eyes grow even wider.
"Wow. A baby? Seriously? You guys are going to have a baby? Wait, what? What?!"
"We had a meeting at the fertility clinic yesterday, and I got inseminated like, on the spot. I won't know yet if it worked but I'm hoping it did. I'm pretty sure it did... or that tea you made me drink is that gross."
Quinn blinks slowly, "wooooow. You're going to be a mom. Hell, Santana Lopez is going to be a mom with you. You're going to be moms together."
"I know, right? Stop saying 'wow' it's losing its tang."
"Sorry, - wow - sorry… well, at least we know Santana is going to be a great mother, what with first aid measures and emergency plans… she's a provider all right."
The comment touches Brittany a lot – she only wishes Santana had heard it. When Brittany smiles brightly and stands up, Quinn mouths 'wow' one more time before following her.
"Do Aunt Susan and Uncle Horton know?"
"Nope. I'm telling them tonight. Mom invited us over for dinner and Santana and I bought a house so we need to tell them about that too..."
"You bought a house? When?"
"Signed the papers before I came over."
"Wo- Where? Not some other city I hope?"
"No, here. In… Richfield." She mumbles it out quietly, but Quinn definitely heard her.
Quinn stares at her.
Brittany awkwardly toys with her t-shirt before shrugging at her cousin's accusatory eyes.
"YOU bought a house in Richfield? Okay, Brittany, are you sure you're not in way over your head? You scoff at Richfield. Joanna lives in Richfield. You were one of the kids who used to T-P Richfield trees with enthusiasm because of your bourgeoisie phase."
"My what now?"
"Richfield," Quinn iterates again, still in disbelief. "How did you even get a house there? I heard there's a waitlist! Who are you, the Brittany I know literally once said she'd never live there."
"I know, the irony does not escape me," Brittany says with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at Quinn's very blown up reaction to her new house.
"How much does a property cost there nowadays? Seriously, you guys seem to be rolling in the dough."
"Enough about my hypocritical tendencies now that I have a Santana – Let's talk about why you're really freaking out."
"Why am I really freaking out?"
"In my opinion, I think you're feeling your youth slip away and seeing me settle down all suburban makes you realize you're next. We'll be suburban homies."
"Oh fuck you, you old lady!" Quinn laughs and teases her cousin, "Having babies and living in Richfield – such a disgrace! What are you doing tonight for your Richfield wife's birthday?"
"Dinner at home. You and Mike should join us."
"… I'm only going to rant about it one more time but, Richfield house for her birthday? What's next, a yacht? Santana has expensive taste, Brittany."
"I know," Brittany drawls out, "but I love her anyways. Dinner? You know mom likes a heads up."
Quinn hums, now fully calmed down from the slap of 'Brittany is going to live in Richfield what the fuck' and says, "I'd love to eat Aunt Susan's anything, but Mike made reservations at some fancy restaurant that had a waiting list so I'll pass. But I bought Santana a gift – from me and Mike – can you pass it along for me? I thought she'd join us when you said you were coming over, I feel kind of bad not giving it personally."
"I'm sure she'll love it at least a little," Brittany says to her cousin. "She would have come over, but she got so excited about the house and all the renovations she gets to come up with that she was too into researching architects and stuff. And she went to go pick up Sepp. It's been a productive morning – this is why I prefer sleeping in."
"Well, have a nice dinner," Quinn walks Brittany out of the door and hands her the wrapped gift for Santana.
They hug and Britt says, "you too."
/
"That smells great," Santana announces with a soft smile in her mother-in-law's direction. The woman was being all frantic in order to have things be nice, since they decided a quiet evening in was more than enough to celebrate Santana's birthday. After dinner, it would be just her and her Britt-Britt and some birthday sex.
The dinner request was also an opportunity for Brittany to talk about their baby plans, but any meal cooked by her talented chef of a mother-in-law was a bonus in Santana's opinion.
Susan lets out an agreeing sound while moving the glazed salmon pieces onto a serving tray, "you should be sitting down hun, no help needed from the birthday girl. Did they set the table?"
"Yeah," Santana helps a little bit anyways, grabbing the salad bowl and heading back out to the dining room.
"Is Brittany alright?" Horton whispers to Santana, a pointed glance at his oldest daughter's unusually solemn mood.
"Yeah she's just deep in thought," Santana excuses. Brittany had been confident about telling her parents the recent news… until they stepped into the house and then she seemed to start stressing out.
He seems to accept her explanation and goes about pouring wine for everyone -except Brittany and Sepp who requested Dr. Pepper, so he cracks a can open and pours it in their wine glasses.
Santana notices Sepp looking both immensely bored and worried from where he sat next to Brittany. Brittany would usually be engaging him in conversation or listening to his latest video game adventure, so he knew something was up. His boarding school was two hours away and he had some school trip, which kept him away for Friday and Saturday when they usually picked him up or visited him. She went after her hair appointment to collect him for dinner and the night, since Monday was a long weekend holiday.
He had spent all his holidays and occasional weekends with the Pierces while she and Brittany were on their honeymoon and she was glad to see him more confident and talkative – a far cry from the boy she first met. On the drive over, she had told him about the house and the baby – mentioned Richfield High. He wasted no time in asking if that meant he could go there, and she felt pleased that he was on board with her own hopes.
"Britt," Santana takes her by the hand and guides her to the side for some privacy to whisper, "we can always tell them later. You're clearly nervous and we aren't sure the attempt worked-"
"But I need to tell them we're attempting. They should know, right?" Brittany whispers back.
"Okay," Santana responds easily. She preferred telling them today, she just also understood that Brittany was panicky and needed the reassurance.
"You told Sepp, right? Like, warned him and stuff so he knows what's happening?"
"Yes."
Brittany nods and then brings her short nails to her teeth and frowns, looking off into space.
"Santana?" Sepp asks her and approaches them, timidly checking to see if Brittany would snap out of her daydream.
"She's just preparing her speech," Santana puts a hand on his shoulder.
"What speech?" He asks.
"Remember that thing I told you in the car?" She asks it quietly so as not be overheard. She had spoken to him before, because he was only thirteen and not even her legal son… yet… and she wanted him to be prepared so he wouldn't feel out of place.
"About Richfield?"
"That and about," she leans down to say in his ear, "pregnancy."
His eyes bulge, "Ohhhhh yeah."
They share a laugh – she knows he's enjoying being the only one who knows about the secret. When she had picked him up from the bus stop for his night visit from boarding school (which was a fifty minute bus drive away) to celebrate her birthday, he ended up being the first person she told and it eased her nerves in return. He responded well, being curious and happy, and then giving her a birthday card he made for her with supplies the art teacher let him use before going to Jeremy's house for a couple of hours to play some video game. Brittany apparently dished out their baby plans to Quinn earlier, and with a baby and a house and Sepp visiting and her birthday - Santana was feeling weird.
Weird enough that instead of working out at the gym today… she secretly went to see a fucking therapist. Granted, she just kind of sat in his office and reflected quietly on her parental capabilities while he awkwardly waited her to speak, but she went nonetheless and was probably going to go again. And she kept it from Brittany because… there really was no reason. She'd tell her soon, maybe after Brittany told her family about the pregnancy situation.
"Brittany, are you okay?" Sepp asks Brittany, keeping up their whispering game so the other three Pierces don't overhear them.
"I think so," Brittany tells him. "Just… usually when I tell them my life plans they don't agree. Like how I didn't go to college or how I dated women… I mean, I know they want grandchildren but I still don't know if they'll be comfortable with this."
Basically, whenever she wanted something her parents disagreed with it.
Santana was pretty certain everything would be fine and, apart from Gracie screaming the way she does when she gets ecstatic, Santana was sure nothing but support would be given. She didn't particularly get why Brittany was nervous now that everything had already been set in motion and Brittany hadn't been remotely nervous when orchestrating doctors appointments and signing off paperwork with certainty (and basically showing how much she was looking forward to her future by literally cart-wheeling at the thought of a baby in Amsterdam).
It was odd seeing Brittany lacking courage to do something, but she knew that Brittany had some lingering feelings from growing up, feelings about how she wasn't living up to her parent's expectations – especially since they were upset with her skipping college more than anything - and those kinds of doubts don't just disappear even though her parents had gotten over it eventually.
Santana didn't really like that anyone – even Brittany's parents – had ever tried to hold her back from being liberated.
"Hey," Santana kisses Brittany's cheek and then winks at Sepp, "they love Sepp for reasons unknown-"
"Hey!" he says, knowing she was teasing him.
Santana sticks her tongue out at him, "-so I'm sure they'll be on board."
"Yeah. Mrs. Pierce was all mushy with a baby when we went grocery shopping," Sepp adds, "She loves babies."
Brittany smiles at them both before taking a deep breath.
Santana leans in to whisper again, "you've got this. Maybe cover your ears so Gracie's inevitable scream doesn't blow an eardrum, but I think they are going to be happy."
Brittany laughs and kisses her cheek before heading back to the table.
Santana puts her arm around Sepp's shoulders as they both walk back to the table too, eyeing a still tense but not as tense Brittany.
"So. How was your time at Jeremy's house?" She asks him.
"… um…"
"What's up?"
She is incredibly hungry and eager to eat as Susan finally comes out of the kitchen with the main dish to set out. The sound of it thunking down makes Brittany jolt a little and Santana and Sepp take their seats.
"Is it really illegal to steal someone's mail?" Sepp asks Santana.
Santana responds first, "If you take and open it knowing it's not yours, yes. If it's already opened, though, nah...why?"
He sinks in relief, "okay good. Because at Jeremy's house, me and Jeremy read some of his parents mail and…"
"Was it left out in the open? Not hidden away?"
"…yeah."
"Then don't worry about it, it was probably an electric bill or something,"
"How did you know that?" His jaw drops in awe. "Woah."
She's amused with his amazement, but Horton steals her attention by rubbing his hands together and making a statement of, "Susan this looks amazing!"
"Yeah mom," Brittany smiles, "Santana's been excited for dinner all day."
Santana nods easily when eyes turn to her, "oohhhh yeah. Thank you for this."
Her stomach was growling for home-cooked deliciousness, specifically that which was made by Susan Pierce.
Susan holds up her glass for a toast, looking very touched. "It was my pleasure, Santana. Having you both back is wonderful, and happy birth – Gracie."
She gives her daughter engrossed in tapping out an e-mail a pointed look, and Gracie pouts but finally sets her phone aside.
"Sorry. Work. But yeah, and thanks for all the gifts you brought back!" Gracie adds before correcting herself, "I mean, happy birthday Santana!"
Santana catches her eye and smirks, making Gracie push her phone further away sheepishly.
"Yes, happy birthday!" Horton says at last before they all clink their glasses.
Santana cringes when Brittany lets out a forceful laugh after the toast, which finally clues their family onto the fact that she was nervously shaking her leg up and down.
Even though it was just family, they had a few bombs to drop on them tonight that were life-altering kind of bombs. Santana gives Brittany what she hopes were encouragement eyes, and Sepp snorts into his Dr. Pepper.
"Bree, what's wrong?" Horton asks in concern.
"Um…" Brittany swallows her dry throat and looks at Santana for help.
"Nothing's wrong," Santana says to first ease everyone's worry and give Brittany a moment to collect herself. "She's just nervous to share something…sss. Some things. Britt?"
"I… I… "
Everyone's attention zooms in on Brittany.
"I'm pregnant."
Santana chokes on her next sip.
That was unexpected and not what they rehearsed to say.
"I mean - I'm going to be," Brittany corrects quickly. "Hopefully… Probably. Most likely."
Santana presses the napkin over her mouth, that liquid went down the wrong way. Ow.
There was silence and when Brittany sees her mother open her mouth to comment, she cuts her off with more information in a quick delivery, "and we bought a house and are giving the apartment to Gracie later when we move eventually but yeah, the pregnancy thing."
Santana coughs the last of her wine out and then says in afterthought, "maybe I should have told them."
Brittany gives her a small smile, and then when the information seemed to be absorbed into the brains of their family, Gracie is the first to share her happiness in a shriek.
Santana cringes. Double ow.
"I get the apartment? YES. I'm so happy for you guys, oooooooh my god I'm going to be an Aunt!" She lets out a squealing sound and Brittany's shoulders relax. She can always count on her little sister to be supportive – fact of life.
"Oh, honey," Susan brings her hand up to her chest and her eyes start watering, "this is… this is wonderful news."
"It is, isn't it?" Brittany looks visibly relieved from her mother's joy, her eyes dropping the tense gaze they had been carrying all day.
"Absolutely," Horton whispers, his eyes seeming to have watered as well. "Eh, Sepp?"
"Duh," Sepp says with his preteen bluntness that makes everyone laugh. "Santana told me before but made me keep it a secret."
He was such an attention seeker, but Santana found it hilarious.
There was a happy silence, until Santana clears her throat, "I'm starving, can we..?"
"Oh! Of course," Susan picks up her cutlery and everyone follows suite.
Santana enjoys her meal – even when Gracie shrieks once more time.
/
Bath dates were awesome, Santana loved bath dates. She has only ever had bath dates with one woman – Brittany - and would only ever have bath dates with Brittany, and they were just awesome.
They'd soak in the bubbles, have some candles around, cuddle or not cuddle (right now though there was cuddling). Brittany was lying back against her and Santana was braiding and combing through blonde hair with one hand and sipping champagne with the other. It was a special night due to it being Santana's birthday (and the house and baby thing all happening so fast). Brittany put on a romantic playlist she made when they had been dating, and spoke to her in a throaty voice of promise. It promised a good time and definitely put Santana in the mood to stay naked for the rest of the night.
Santana didn't even glare at Tubbs too much for sitting on the toilet seat and annoying her with his creepy glow eyes because he loved the bathtub (it was his territory) and she enjoyed getting revenge on him by staying in here as long as possible.
"We will need a bigger bathtub in the new place," Brittany says, enjoying her massage.
"We're going to need another car," Santana tells her. "Because I'll have to start driving into the city for work.."
"Yes, but maybe two more cars because I'll need something for family-friendly... And maybe instead of two garages we should have three built at the new house? Because-"
Santana's hand drifts from the wet blonde hair down to massage Brittany's shoulder, listening to her as Brittany rambles on in a droll.
"—I'm so keeping the Audi forever and ever and it will need a special garage that I can keep it in good condition. It'll be like a family heirloom of epic love. I'll tell our legacy children how they were conceived because of that car."
"How were they conceived because of that car?" Santana asks her after a snort of laughter, draining the last of her own glass and then putting it on the small stool nearby before using two hands to massage Brittany's shoulders.
"Because when I drove home I went really fast to make sure gravity helped it stick, you know? Or so you said."
Snickering, Santana kisses Brittany's neck and wraps her arms around Brittany's shoulders, gently molding closer forward.
"Things are going to be so different when Sepp lives with us," Brittany whispers thoughtfully. "And the baby."
The apartment didn't have adequate room for him but the Pierces loved having him over, and Santana never thought she'd want to let this place go but Gracie would love it and take care of it and Santana was eager to move into Richfield soon, assuming construction was mostly done after the summer. It was going to be awesome. She had so many ideas for her dream home.
"We need more money too," she says offhandedly. "This house set us back."
"If we live in Richfield can we not be those shallow money whores? We can live there and keep our souls in tact," Brittany says.
"Yes we can," Santana kisses Brittany's shoulder.
"That's important, I can live there but I won't conform there."
Santana kisses the lips that have turned to tell her this, slow and meaningfully in her own sort of teasing way. Brittany's fingers dig into her recently styled hair to bring her in more, and to her jaw to hold it in place. They kiss for minutes, a new song is on and Brittany turns her body around when Santana tries to cup a boob in her growing excitement. Madonna's Justify My Love was on, she couldn't help herself.
"Why don't you dry off and go to bed, birthday girl? I have a surprise for you before… that." Brittany gives her a sensual kiss, soft and tongue-tormentingly heavy.
Santana's smile is large, a little shy and a lot excited when Brittany backs out of the kiss and then steps out of the tub.
But, the landline starts to ring.
"Ugh. What the fuck?" She steps out of the bath and grabs the nearby fluffy towel, wrapping it around her breasts before going to the apartment hall where the phone was.
Brittany follows her because no one ever phoned on that line except the building maintenance like that time they had to do a cautionary evacuation and were warning the residents. If this was another evacuation, the timing could not be worse.
"Hello?" She picks up the phone and glances back at Brittany who takes this moment to turn off the TV they accidentally left on, as well as the kitchen lights. She fills a couple of glasses with water, too, making Santana's cheeks flush.
She got thirsty after sex and had a feeling Brittany was pouring both glasses for her alone. There was some birthday present about to happen and she held on to the towel tighter.
"Is this the residence of Santana Soledad Lopez?"
The use of her middle name – a name she has not heard uttered by anyone except her grandmother when Santana was being scolded – makes her body go cold. She has a logical thought and it doesn't leave her mind.
"Yes… this is Santana."
"Oh, hello. My name is Father Cecilio Ortez, of the North Heights Adjacent Church."
North Heights Adjacent Church. Abuela's church. The church she used to go to for Sunday School.
"I'm sorry to inform you, Santana, but-"
"She's dead. Abuelita is dead?" She says it before he can, because that sinking feeling in her stomach knew exactly what this call was for as soon as he spoke her name.
On her birthday, of all days.
She feels a hand on her shoulder, soft and warm, and turns to look at Brittany's understanding face. Brittany gives her a sad smile and offers gently, "Should I?"
Nodding gratefully since she realizes he's speaking to her but she's got tears trying to leak out of her eyes and can't really listen, Santana hands the phone over and goes to collapse on her couch.
Holy shit.
The woman would be eighty by now, and Santana hasn't seen or spoken to her in fifteen years since she was told to get out of that house.
"Thank you for calling," she hears Brittany say softly before hanging up.
Next thing she knows, her teary and shocked face is pressed to Brittany's towel, and a soft hand is rubbing between her shoulders gently.
She leans back up maybe five minutes later, wiping her face of any trace of tears. She just sighs. "What did he say?"
"He said she prearranged for her funeral with the church. She passed away this morning… he also said that he had also phoned her daughter-"
Santana feels anger build up inside her and she fails to hide it from Brittany who puts a hand to her warm cheek.
"—because, Santana, she wrote you both letters and… I don't know what she wrote but he says the burial is tomorrow at noon."
Santana feels most of her rage crumble the longer she stares at Brittany. After a moment she says, "is it… alright if we go?"
"Absolutely," Brittany says, soothingly, "it's a three hour drive so, let's just… Um, let's go to bed and rest up? We'll leave in the morning."
Letting herself be led to the bedroom, Santana puts on her nightgown and slips under the covers after thoughtfully brushing her teeth. She shoots Becky a 'no work tomorrow' text and closes her eyes to try to get a grip on herself, or at least fall asleep.
Becky responds quickly with a 'you told me I had tomorrow off anyways, it's a long weekend holiday' which makes her roll her eyes at herself. A minute later Becky texts again 'happy birthday loser' which reminds her of the situation.
She was sad, yeah, but she did not want to cry. She cried a little already and now it was just business. She had been through worse things in life than losing a woman who gave up on her. Well, that actually might be the worst thing in her life.
Ugh.
She relaxes when Brittany joins her in bed, cuddling into her back after setting an alarm. She's able to fall asleep pretty fast, then.
/
In the morning, she remembers her grandmother is dead because Brittany is awake before her – which never happens. Brittany has a small suitcase packed for them and Santana hears voices in the kitchen. She recognizes Gracie's unique ringtone of that annoying high-pitched ping and then quickly gets dressed when she notices the time. It was six in the morning and to get to the small town she grew up in it was three and a half hours away by car.
The thing about getting over her anger issues was that she had to always be aware of them and what might trigger them. The thought of her grandmother leaving her a letter without ever speaking to her since their last meeting… it made her very angry.
She puts on a black dress and isn't really surprised when her in-laws are all there, in black.
"Is it okay if we come?" Susan asks Santana timidly, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Um, yeah, yeah," Santana says, finding that them going with her will help her keep a cool head about the situation. "Where's Sepp?"
"Still sleeping. Quinn is at the house until we get back."
"I can drive," Horton offers.
"Thanks dad but we'll take two cars, not sure how long we'll have to be there," Brittany reminds him before turning to Santana, "you want something to eat?"
Clearing her throat, Santana nods and grabs some bread to put in the toaster.
"Am I the only one eating?" She asks it to ease the tension she sees in the Pierces. They haven't been so shy in her apartment since the first time they stayed there. Usually they help themselves, they even got her more dishes and mugs to accommodate them.
She gets odd looks of sympathy from the three in-laws that make her feel a little self-conscious, but Brittany snaps everyone into attention with talking.
"No, let's all eat. I made coffee."
Everyone eats and Santana feels the silence get incredibly awkward, since during a meal with her in-laws it was usually kept entertained with Gracie and Brittany and Horton chatting away, and Sepp's rants about his math teacher. There's only the crunched chewing of everyone standing in the kitchen nibbling on toast with occasional sipping of coffee, and she wonders if she's grieving or relieved this morning.
/
On the drive out, with Brittany's dad, Susan, and Gracie following in the car behind them, Santana is able to start talking and ask Brittany questions.
"I wonder how she died – did he say? I don't remember him saying…"
"He just said she didn't wake up from sleep," Brittany says gently. "And there won't be an autopsy, her heart was weak so she was expecting it."
"That's good since she never wanted to get super old or whatever and be a brittle old lady… you know, she gave me the middle name Soledad."
"It doesn't suit you at all, no offense."
"I hate it. She gave it to me because it's another name for The Virgin Mary. Get this, okay, my mom was a sinful slutty whore who had me out of wedlock in Abuela's eyes, so she gave me The Virgin Mary's name to ensure I never spread my legs like my mom… and I had to have The Virgin Mary hanging in my bedroom."
Brittany has never heard her talk about this before. She's told Brittany a lot about her grandmother because Brittany is the only one she has ever felt comfortable sharing anything with. When they started dating she was the first person Santana ever told about being disowned. And she still was, actually.
She was always suspicious, since getting engaged to Brittany, that Susan especially was dying to ask her about her family. For a while they thought Santana was an orphan and were curious to know more but by now they knew she was a disowned victim and that was because Brittany told them so they'd back off and Santana wouldn't have to field family questions from them. They always respected that, but maybe the lack of information was why they had been so tense. They had no way of knowing how she felt about this situation.
"Your parents were looking at me all funny."
"They don't understand this, is all… They've never been disowned and traumatized by the person most important to them. They probably expected you to be sadder."
Santana snorts.
Brittany gives her a sad smile before looking back at the road, "do you want to talk about it? How you're actually feeling?"
How she's ninety shades of anger? Not yet.
"I've not spoken to her for half my life," Santana says, "There's only so much you can grieve someone who hates you, you know? She's gone as in dead, sure, but she's been gone longer than that."
Brittany asks another question, "is this Church anti-gay? Just want to prepare myself."
"I don't know babe. I mean, that guy invited us and I'm sure he knows I'm gay because Abuela probably told him aaaaaall about her terrible luck with family to pray it won't affect her entrance into heaven, but I suspect he's after money. He'll try to get me to donate or something… which we are so not doing, okay?"
"Okay."
"Okay. Let's talk about something else. I'm pissed off, I could use a distraction."
"Want to talk about how you never went to the gym yesterday, but you didn't lie about going to the gym."
Santana says guiltily, "I'm… yeah, I did go to the gym building I just didn't work out… er…"
"Santana – I know there's an office tech company and a psychologist practice in the same building. Either you're trying some office tech on the D-L or you're seeing a psychologist. Maybe telling them how you regret marrying into a blonde family?"
The tease makes Santana's mood lift just a little, and she confesses.
"Ding ding. Psychologist. But before you freak out on me it's not what you think-"
"I'm not freaking out," Brittany promises. "It's been quite a weekend. This is what people call whirlwinds, right? We spent more money this weekend than we did six months traveling and then bam! Your estranged grandmother just up and dies."
"Just, the woman whose funeral we're attending? She's the reason I booked the appointment, okay? She's the only parental figure in my life – was the only parental figure in my life. I just wanted to make sure I'm prepared for the baby, not suffering some issues that will affect it because I was abandoned, you know?"
"And now she's dead and it makes everything messier?"
"Exactly. So I'm probably going to go back to the psychologist because her timing is shit."
"So you wanted to make sure you were mentally stable to have kids so you lied about going to the gym and went to see a psychologist in the gym building in your gym clothes."
"… when you put it like that, it makes it sound foolish."
"Well… just a little. You could have asked me or told me," Brittany says seriously. "But do what you got to do. If gym clothes help."
Within another hour, they've made it to North Heights Adjacent and Santana feels the nostalgia. She lived here in her childhood.
"I came here for a school field trip before," Brittany says in memory, "I remember that weird 'Welcome' statue. Is that a frog or what?"
"No one knows."
They pull up outside the Church just before twelve, having time it well.
There are maybe fifty people dressed in black for the funeral and Santana recognizes none.
The service goes on, all done by the Priest. He reads passages requested by Santana's grandmother and talks about death. He never mentions Santana or her parents – and Santana looks around the church but doesn't see anyone who might possibly be her mother.
Figures.
She catches Gracie and Brittany trying not to laugh when the man in front of them's toupee starts sliding off his head. She bites her lips so she too doesn't burst into laughter. Horton and Susan go to church pretty often, but she catches Horton rolls his eyes once and Susan look mildly offended at the part when the Priest talked about heaven and sin.
When the service is over, Santana watches as the closed casket of her Abuela is buried in the Church's graveyard. She's kind of at peace then, and knows that despite everything her Abuela is ending up right where she wanted to be which was kind of nice (even though she resents this church and blames a lot of her grandmother's behaviour on it).
"You must be Santana," the Priest notices her hanging around, the last of the funeral attendees.
"Yes," Santana keeps her hands in her coat's pockets. "So. The letter?"
He smiles stiffly and pulls it out of the folder in his hands.
"Did my…" she has hardly ever used the word in her life so it rolls off strangely, "mother come by?"
"No. I was unable to locate her." He then hands her a second envelope. "Maybe you can."
Then he hands her some keys, which she recognizes as her grandmother's house keys. Her deceased grandfather's face was on the locket on the ring.
"She donated everything to the church," he tells her. Which, Santana is not surprised at all to hear. "But there are lots of things in the house we haven't sorted through yet, maybe some of it is yours? She told me you were free to go inside and whatever you leave behind the church will humbly accept."
"Huh. Thanks." Santana doesn't know why she bothers taking them. She had been so pissed and adamant that she didn't care, but suddenly she kind of cared… to see her old home. Where she was raised.
Then he puts a hand on her shoulder and says, "donating to our church may help you find peace."
He leaves after slipping a business card into her hand and offering a pitiful smile, and she can't help but scowl at his back.
She walks back to where her in-laws and wife were talking amongst themselves and greets them with a nod.
Brittany seems to notice the keys and gives her mom some kind of hard stare that gets translated to 'you guys can go now.'
"Santana," Susan pulls her into a hug, "come by for dinner again later, okay?"
"Um, okay," Santana says, finding the hug to be surprisingly comforting.
Gracie hugs her next, "sorry I laughed at the guy's toupee in there."
"It's okay, I had to bite my tongue to stop from laughing too."
Gracie sighs into her shoulder and releases her from the hug.
Horton gives her a quick hug last of all, "if there's some legal things, I'd be more than happy to take care of it for you."
She doesn't bother telling him her grandmother left her nothing but an envelope and the chance to grab old things from the house.
"Thanks," Santana says, waving them off as they all get in the car and head back.
"So," Brittany takes her hand and leads her to the Audi.
"Up for seeing my childhood home?" Santana asks her, not sure if she was up for it herself.
It was nearby, and they park on the driveway of the small house. It looks the same as it always did, and it was weird for Santana to think that her grandmother was still living in the house until very recently.
She clutches the envelopes in her pocket and raises her head high.
Santana notices that some kids are playing on the small lawn next door where Mrs. Bixby, the lady that she did a lot of gardening chores for, used to live.
She enters the house and Brittany quietly follows her. Every step she takes frustrates her more.
There's a newer TV, but the same old couch. The same floral smell... and that same stupid red pot sitting on the kitchen counter. She doesn't know why she does it, but she flips open every cupboard to glance inside and then, suddenly, she's inspecting everything in every room. Brittany just lets her explore, sticking nearby and observing.
Finally, much later, she's in her old room and it's… the same. There are some dull grey bed sheets on the small twin bed she used to sleep on, and a photo of her when she was five with her super cool blue tricycle that had sparkle handles. Brittany's eyes were the same shade of blue, and being in the room suddenly hurts.
There were still seventeen years worth of memories in this house, where her grandmother looked out for her and loved her, and those years crawl into her skin.
"Santana?"
"Lets find some boxes and pack some of this stuff up," she says quietly, offering Brittany a smile that she knows Brittany doesn't buy for one second.
"Okay."
Brittany nods once more, "I'll go to that post office we passed by, they'll probably have some. Be right back."
She's grateful Brittany offers her a moment of privacy. When the front door closes after Brittany has gone downstairs and left, she collapses on the bed and angrily hurls her photo at the wall, right next to The Virgin Mary. It shatters and she is so damn angry.
Santana hears Brittany come back a few minutes after glaring at her wall. She gets up and goes downstairs to the kitchen. She finds Brittany calmly folding cardboard boxes together, leaning against the counter.
"It is so weird seeing you in this house," Santana says ironically, before walking forward and making to grab a box and help.
Brittany stops her wrist and, with an understanding smile, pulls her in for a hug.
"I'm fine," Santana lies before clutching back tightly, exhaling a lot of personal contempt into Brittany's shoulder.
Brittany hugs her even closer, and Santana closes her eyes. Okay, so she wasn't fine.
