When you first woke up you felt like the morning felt like truth. You're not sure if it really is what it prances around and pretends to be. You've learned from theatre that one emotion can feel like a totally different emotion if disguised properly or misunderstood.
This morning felt like truth until you realized that Rachel was gone and the morning dew had soaked through your clothes giving you a chill. Then Rachel avoided you all day to the point where you'd take hour-long walks around the neighborhood to convince yourself that you were the one avoiding her.
Now you're halfway across town because you weren't paying attention to where you were walking. You just keep seeing the kiss over and over in your head. Like you're not even in it. You can see her looking down at you like you're standing on the porch watching. You can see her brush your hair away from your face and you can see your own labored breaths.
A gust of wind washes away the memory, but it's still there. It's lingering in the back of your mind, leaving behind a cocoon of its emotions that is encasing you. You feel warm all over even though you forgot your jacket.
As you walk you hear a voice calling out. It seems faint until you reach reality again and realize that the person calling out, is call you, and really isn't all that far away.
You look up from the rough sidewalk to your left where a large house is standing. On the front steps of the house, Mrs. Lopez is searching through her giant designer handbag with two paper bags at her feet. She waves at you with a huge smile that you can't help, but smile back at.
You wait for a car to pass before trotting across the street. She finally has her keys out and is unlocking the door when you reach her. She dips down to pick up the paper bags, but you pick them up first.
"Thank you Quinn," she gestures for you to walk in before her. Everything inside the house is exactly like it was the last time you were there. Maybe a few more pictures, but other than that everything is in place. Brittany's motor cross helmet is even hanging on the coat rack.
You walk right to the kitchen and set the bags down on the counter. They were heavier than you thought they would be and it clinks when you set it down.
"You look cold," Mrs. Lopez whirls past you and pressed the button down for the electric kettle to start. "Let me make you some tea while you tell me what's going on with you."
You lean on the island in the middle of the kitchen, running your fingertips over the polished stormy grey countertop. You're not really sure what to say so you watch her put the groceries from the first bag up. She patiently folds up the first bag and places it under the counter before extracting two champagne bottles. You decide to deflect as best you can and ask, "Are you celebrating?"
A motherly glow surrounds her and she smiles. "I am. We are. Have you heard the news?"
You slowly shake your head. You don't think you've heard any news lately. If it happened in the past twenty-four hours, you definitely don't know what's going on because of your Rachel's kiss induced haze.
"Well I don't suppose they can fault me for being excited and telling you and the cashier at the grocery story, and everyone I could dial on my phone between there and here," she seems absolutely giddy and it's infectious. She pulls out a third and fourth champagne bottle, slipping them into the freezer next to the first two. "Brittany asked Santana to marry her."
Your immediate joy is overcome shortly by confusion. "Brittany asked Santana?" You were sure that Santana was the one planning to pop the question.
She nods. "I didn't get all of the details about how it happened because Santana was crying and you know how squeaky her voice gets when she's crying." She pulls down a mug and box of tea from the cabinet next to the refrigerator. "They are on their way over here to tell me all about it, then we're having a little family get together. It'll just be my sister Gloria and her husband with their sons and a few of my husbands relatives. The Pierces should be arriving with the girls because they stopped there first." She pours the hot water in the kettle over the tea bag in the mug before setting it in front of you. "I wish you'd stay and celebrate with us. At the very least, help me make sure that they don't try to steal away upstairs and hole up in Santana's room."
She turns around to get the honey out of the cabinet and set it down in front of you. "If you stay, you'd have just enough time to tell me why you were walking down the street with a dazed look on your face."
You take the small plastic bear in your hand and squeeze some of the honey into your tea. "I guess so."
"Are you going to make me guess?" she asks with a mischievous grin after you haven't said anything for a minute. "Boy- I mean significant other problems? Potential significant other problems? Parental problems? People being mean to you at school?"
"No," you sigh. "Well, it might be one of those. I don't know. Last night, um, - do you remember Rachel?"
"Rachel Berry?" Mrs. Lopez leans against the opposite side of the island toward you.
You nod.
She nods in return.
"Well she's getting a divorce," you explain and even as you just explain the little parts, you feel a little bit better. It's like a wall is being lifted off of your back brick by brick. "She's my best friend and I take the train to see her a couple times a month and she comes to see me. Especially during her separation that eventually lead to the divorce. Anyway, last night we were sitting on the porch and she wanted to look at the stars." You tell her the rest of the story and watch her reaction.
Her only emotion so far is interest. Her eyebrows furrow, just like Santana's do when she's thinking hard. "Do you feel something for her?"
"I don't -" you pause because you really have not a clue. You tell Mrs. Lopez this, adding, "I didn't think that I did before. I mean, she's my best friend. But now...I don't know."
"It seems to me like you've been in each other's lives this long and you'll be in each other's lives for much longer and you don't need to rush." She pats your forearm, "Take your time."
You look down at the mug between your hands. "Thanks. I'm sorry for dumping this all on you. Especially today."
She laughs, "This is nothing. I lived with an emotional hurricane named Santana for eighteen years. She'd go from crying to laughing to yelling to asleep before I had time to understand what was going on."
You have to laugh at that. You can definitely relate. But despite all the drama, Santana turned out to be a great friend even when you weren't so great of a friend to her.
Neither one of you feel pressured to talk so you just sit in silence while Mrs. Lopez moves around the kitchen, putting away groceries. When you hear the front door open, with the same creak that it had when you were in high school, you hear Santana announce, "Mom, are you here?"
"En la cocina," Mrs. Lopez calls back, half in the refrigerator.
You see Santana round the corner into the kitchen first, followed closely by Brittany and her parents. She stutter-steps when she sees you, but decides to ignore you for the moment and run to her mother. Even though Santana is significantly taller than her mom, Mrs. Lopez hugs her daughter ferociously. She murmurs things to Santana in Spanish that you don't understand so you look at the Pierce family and watch them.
Brittany's mom keeps sniffling and touching Brittany, fixing her hair or rubbing her back. Her dad hasn't stopped smiling since her walked in. You're happy for them. They've been destined to get to this point since they met.
You stand up and walk over to Brittany. She beams at you when you offer her congratulations. You give her a hug and she makes you both sway a little bit. "Thanks Q."
You pleasantly greet both of Brittany's parents and exchange small talk about the engagement.
"Brittany," Santana's mom calls, "Come give your mother-in-law a hug." Brittany bounds over to Santana's mom and hugs her as they both laugh.
Santana makes her way back over toward you, but Brittany's parents steal her attention before she makes it to you. You understand. This is a family time. You slip out the kitchen door and decide to make yourself scarce. You can thank Mrs. Lopez for the tea later.
"Hey," Santana calls out to you when you have your hand on the front door handle.
You slowly turn and look at her. You give her a genuine smile, "Congratulations." You step up to her and give her a hug.
She accepts for a short hug, but pulls away from you to look you over. "What's up?"
"You just got engaged," you offer as a reason not to tell her what's going on.
She quirks an eyebrow, "I can go ask Rachel what's wrong."
"She is what's wrong," you move your hands to Santana's shoulders and sigh, "I didn't mean that. I mean, it's complicated."
Santana's hands are warm on your waist and she gently squeezes, "Quinn, tell me."
You don't see yourself getting out of this without her finding out so you decide to just spill. Everything comes out from the night before to wandering aimlessly around town and ending up here. She watches with understanding eyes and pulls you into a hug again. You sigh into her shoulder and close your eyes. "I didn't think of her like that...until now. Until she kisses me and I let her."
Santana pulls away from you. "Well, is walking around by yourself helping you figure stuff out?"
You shake your head.
"Then stay here," Santana lets her hand fall from your waist and take one of your hands. "My Tia is on her way and she makes the best margaritas this side of Cabo. We're going to eat a lot and drink too much then go back to Shiva. These past few days have been intense and we need to unwind or we're all going to lose it."
"We're suppose to be mourning though," you frown. You don't want to disrespect tradition or anything. You feel like you've lost sight of Shiva completely.
"Where my mom's from we don't mourn the death. We celebrate the life so tomorrow we're going to take a little Puerto Rico to the Shiva okay?" she gives you a small smile. "I wouldn't be me if I didn't break the rules a little bit."
You laugh and she grins before pulling you back into the kitchen.
When the rest of Santana's family arrives, you all move the party to the back patio. It's gorgeous outside now that the sun has decided to dominate the sky. The grass is perfectly cut and Santana's uncle has started the grill. You've been told Santana's dad is on his way back from work, which you are excited for. He's a great man and he makes you laugh harder than most people.
You, Santana, and Brittany are sitting on a long 'L' shaped patio couch made out of black iron and sunset orange cushions. They're sitting on either side of you, even though you know they'd rather be next to each other. It's either because they are trying to make you feel better or because Santana's mom handed you the lime tortilla chips which are still in your lap.
Santana is leaned back with her feet on the small fireplace table in front of the couch. You pick up her hand and look at the ring again. "It fits?"
Santana nods, "We've worn the same size rings since I can remember. She won't wear it though."
"I asked you that means you get the ring," Brittany smirks and looks at her fiancée across you.
"I'll just have to get another one for you," Santana says like she just won the argument. She adds a "humph" and then plucks a chip out of the bowl in your lap.
You look over at Brittany. The blonde is smiling because she thinks Santana is cute and not because she just won the argument.
Santana's phone buzzes in her pocket and it tickles your side because she's so close to you. She pulls it out and taps a few buttons. "Puck, Lauren, and Samcedes are coming over."
"What about Rachel?" it escapes your mouth before you even know what you're saying. You keep your eyes on Santana because she knows why you want to know if she's coming or not.
Santana puts her phone back in her pocket, "I invited her, but she hasn't said anything."
Brittany pulls out her phone and searches for something, "Mike and Tina, Kurt and Blaine, and Artie and Sugar are staying. Mike's mowing Ms. P's backyard."
"So," Brittany's dad walks up to the couch with three margaritas in his hands, one pink, one green, and one a light shade of blue. He offers them to you and you all take one. "How about we hear why Brittany decided to propose in the middle of Shiva?"
You all drink your margaritas as Brittany tells the story. You have a feeling there's more to the story than she's telling, but you know you'll get the real story later.
"Maribel," Brittany's mom calls to Santana's mom, "These lobster rolls are delicious. How did you make them?"
Maribel laughed, "Hard work and a credit card swipe."
Both women laughed together like the best of friends. You love how well Brittany and Santana's families interact. They're all one huge family now and they all act like one.
You look down at your margarita and see that it's gone. You heard something about Sangria so you excuse yourself to find it. You slip inside past Sam and Mercedes who was smiling at each other with love in their eyes.
Once you get inside, you make your way toward the empty kitchen. The afternoon sun is shining throughout the house and you open the refrigerator finding the pitcher of sangria waiting for you. The orange and lemon slices are beautiful as they float in the top, contrasting with the red liquid. It looks like a sunset. You look at it in the glass picture for a little while longer before you hear a throat clear behind you.
"Do I need to give you two a minute?"
You freeze with your hand on the handle of the refrigerator and your empty glass in the other hand. You suck in a breath and turn around. Rachel is standing there leaning against the kitchen island. You can't see her feet, but you know she has one foot flat on the ground and the other foot behind it, her toe tapping the ground. She always does that when she's playing with her nails like she is right now.
"Hey," you offer when she doesn't say anything. You turn back around and fill up your glass before closing the refrigerator. You're trying really hard for this not to be weird, but her avoiding you all morning didn't help. "Do you want one?" you gesture to your drink.
She eyes the drink. "Can I try yours first?"
You nod. You've done this many times before. You'll get a drink and she wants to try it or she'll get some kind of food that you want to try. You share. You're best friends. Even when it's weird.
She lifts the glass from your hand and her perfect lips rest on the rim of the glass as she tilts it up. It's never been erotic to you before, her drinking out of a glass, but now... You can't look away from her lips.
When she takes the glass away, her tongue runs over her bottom lip and she nods, "That's delicious."
"You can have that one," you tell her, needing a moment to compose yourself. You open the cabinet and pick up another margarita glass from the withering stash. You fill it and take a healthy gulp before turning back to Rachel, only to find that she's rounding the island and is standing really close to you.
She looks pensive, watching her sangria ripple in her glass before she looks up at you, "I made it weird didn't I?"
You contemplate pretending like you don't know what she's talking about, but you know she knows that you do. You set your glass down on the counter behind you and place your hands on the cool surface. "A little bit."
"I'm sorry," she sets her glass down next to yours hand gathers the flaps of your jacket in her hands, letting them sway a bit over your stomach. "I just...I felt the overwhelming urge to kiss you."
You nod. You don't want her to feel bad for anything because you enjoyed it as well. "I get it."
"You do?" her large doe eyes beg for everything to be okay again.
You just nod again, this time placing your hands on her shoulders like you would if she hadn't kissed you last night. Maybe forcing things to go back to normal will work even though you now feel a tingle in the small of your back when she touches you.
She licks her lips and you see her looking at your lips. They start to become warm under her gaze. "Would it be too forward of me if I told you that you're the best kisser I've ever kissed?"
You crack a smile and she does as well. You grin. "Not at all."
"What about if I told you I'd thought about doing it again?" she asks, this time her voice is low and her smile fades.
You take in a sharp, silent breath. All too suddenly, you feel how close she is to you. You can feel the heat coming off of her body and her eyes trace a tangible line over your lips. You feel her grip get tighter on your jacket. You can smell her perfume.
You close your eyes and force the breath out of your lungs, along with the truth of, "I have too."
"So," Rachel breathes, unsure and nervous. You could hear it in the one syllable before you opened your eyes and saw it. You don't want her to feel unsure or nervous about anything relate to you, but you wait to see what's she's going to say, praying that it's what you want to hear. She visibly swallows, "So, can I...do it again?"
You're nodding before you can fully register what she said. It doesn't matter. The answer is still the same. You keep nodding until you feel her lips crash against yours. She takes a step forward so that her body is pressed against your front and the counter behind your is digging into your tailbone.
Your lips grapple together, slipping and sliding together and apart before her tongue enters your mouth with a tentativeness that makes you wrap your arms around her neck and pull you closer.
You don't know how long this kiss is going to last and you don't care because you're standing there in the Lopez family kitchen, kissing Rachel Berry.
