Author's note: I try to avoid these, because I know you aren't here to read personal anecdotes from me, but I wanted to say that some language in this chapter may be mildly offensive to members of the LGBTQ community and/or supporters of them. Please do not take these words to heart, because I've heard them as I'm sure others of you have on an almost daily basis, directed at me or otherwise. I apologize for that now, but it's much harder to capture the emotion within the prejudice without use of some of these words. I'll keep it to a minimum.

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The two women didn't split apart until they reached the subway, as neither wanted to wait for a cab to pick them up. They had managed to maintain contact as they walked down the sidewalks in the slight flurry of snow, holding hands as they navigated through the underground crowds of native New Yorkers, just as ready as they were to get home, and were cozily settled on two seats on the subway when they heard someone across from them clear their throat, loudly.

Santana had been nestled into Brittany's shoulder, eyes closed, breathing in deeply her girlfriend's familiar scent as Brittany absentmindedly ran her fingers through the long dark strands of hair falling across the Latina's face. Their hands, intertwined as always, were laying across Santana's lap.

The sound made the two look up, but as they scanned the subway, they saw nothing out of the ordinary, and chalked it up to a bad cold. The two women settled back into familiar territory, and Santana leaned into Brittany's neck to whisper something when they heard it again. More than a cough, it was an attempt at gaining their attention. Caramel eyes hardened as they met steely grey ones. The pair of eyes, as well as the phony hacking, belonged to a middle aged woman, sitting with her daughter directly across from them.

Santana pulled away from Brittany's arms, despite hastened attempts by the blonde to calm the fiery girl down. Lima Heights Lopez was rearing its head, and Brittany did not want to see things get ugly, so close to Christmas.

"Do we have a problem, or do you just need a cough drop?" she leaned forward, placing her elbows crossed on her knees, and spoke calmly, but the venom was evidently seeping through her words.

"I just find issue with my nine year old having to watch such a disgusting display in a public transit system."

The Latina leaned back, pretending to consider the words before standing up and walking over to the woman, who stood as well, defending her position.

"That's cool, because I find issue with innocent children being raised by such prejudiced assholes that they have no opportunity to form their own opinions." When she spoke, her words did not waver in the slightest, and she kept her voice low, surprisingly, in front of the woman's little girl.

"My daughter was raised correctly, and knows better than to fraternize with, or, heaven forbid, become a faggot." Santana's eyes widened, as those she had been physically slapped, and Brittany grabbed her hand quickly, trying to pull her girlfriend back to her seat.

Santana shook her head slightly at the blonde behind her, who's eyes were now brimming with tears. "Look lady, I tried to keep things civil, but I refuse to allow you to call me, my girlfriend, or anyone else on this subway who couldn't help but fall in love like us a faggot." She spit the word out, the taste of each letter bitter on her tongue. "You may not like it, but it's not going anywhere. You can't fucking cure us, or round everyone up and ship us off to gay camp, and your disapproval has absolutely zero impact on the way I spend the rest of my life with the woman sitting across from you. We were in no way being vulgar, or disrespectful before you butted in, so kindly sit your pompous ass down, and turn your head if you don't like what you see."

The woman's features contorted into a mixture of disbelief and what looked almost like respect for the words that flew out of the petite Latina's mouth. Santana turned away, a look of determination and confidence flooding her features, but Brittany felt as they grabbed hands again to exit that internally, every molecule of her girlfriend was shaking.

They walked in near silence the few blocks home, Brittany not even daring to point out Christmas decorations she liked. Santana's body was still quivering, and her girlfriend knew, despite the incessant protests, that it was not because of the weather.

Brittany reached the door first, pulled out her keys, and let them both in. The door was barely shut behind her before Santana collapsed in the entry way, sobs wracking her thin frame. Brittany slid down the wall next to her, wrapping her arms around the hysterical girl, pulling her close. Pressing her lips to Santana's temple, she rocked her slowly, making quiet shushing noises, bringing the sobs down to a whimper.

"Your abuela?"

Santana's throat felt like sandpaper, and her tongue was taking up most of her mouth. She simply nodded.

"Baby, she's the one missing out, on the beautiful woman you've become these past few years, you know that don't you?" Brittany's attempts were met with no response, just a few coughs as Santana tried to catch her breath. "Please tell me you know that," she whispered, hurt catching in her throat as she held her girlfriend's face, caressing each cheek, wiping the tears still falling. Santana nodded again.

Brittany stood up, pulling Santana up off of the floor with her. "This is not going to ruin date night," she grinned. "I'm gonna go start a bath for you, and grab you a glass of wine, and we're going to curl up and watch movies and stare at Mila Kunis' body, okay? Sound good?" she said teasingly, lifting up the diminutive Latina's chin and winking.

Santana fought a laugh, and wrapped her arms around the limber blonde's body, taking comfort in her warmth. "I love you Britt Britt. More than Mila," she whispered, with a giggle, uncurling herself from her girlfriend, and making her way up the stairs toward the bathroom. She turned around at the top, and stuck her head over the banister. "You know, you could join me." Brittany's eyebrows disappeared into her bangs, as a smile snuck across her face. "Unless, of course, you're afraid of being shipped off to gay camp."