AN: I apologize for the delay in this update. I had planned on finishing it up this weekend, but life had other plans for me.
Just a little bit of angst towards the end, to keep things interesting. ;)
Please don't hesitate to review or PM me with suggestions, criticism, or hell, even praise. Haha. If there's something you'd like to see more or less of, send that my way too. I'm open to everything you all say, and I appreciate every review, alert, and reader. :)
Despite not being a morning person, a wide smile broke across Santana's features as her eyes fluttered open the following morning. Somehow, in the middle of the night, she and Brittany had switched positions, and the blonde was now cradled in her arms, sleeping sweetly. The dull, early sunshine still managed to burst through the half-closed blinds, leaving lines of light across Brittany's spine, and Santana swiftly swung her legs over the side of the bed to grab her camera. Twisting the aperture and focusing easily, she framed the blonde in all of her glory before clicking the shutter. The dark purple sheets were pooled around her waist, exposing her bare back while a waterfall of waves cascaded over her shoulder blades. She discarded her camera and made her way downstairs to run a pot of coffee, too content to fall back asleep. She trudged back upstairs minutes later, the liquid in her mug warming her fingers as she collapsed into the chair at the far side of the room. Leaning over the arm of the oversized piece of furniture, she fumbled in her bag for a second before retrieving her book, flipping back open to the last page she'd dog earred. She allowed herself to fall into the words, each letter caressing her skin and tugging at her heart, so when the book was taken from her hands and tossed to the side, she automatically turned to glare at the intruder. Her eyes softened as they fell upon a still sleepy blonde, rubbing her eyes adorably. She held her arms out, wiggling her fingers at Santana, before grabbing hold of her hands fully and urging her back to bed. Brittany managed to convince the girl to follow her, and soon both were happily snuggled back under the sheets, slender fingers tracing patterns and words into a caramel back.
"I love you too," Santana murmured sleepily, responding to the latest sentence written on her spine. "I wish I could spend all day, right here."
"I think Naked Saturdays would be a good tradition. Or Sundays maybe. Sundays are much more lazy."
"Naked Sundays it is then, Britt, because I don't think people would appreciate me walking around the mall in my birthday suit today, even if it is my birthday weekend," she giggled. Moments later though, her grin twisted, her eyebrows furrowing together. "I don't want to have to buy appropriate clothes. I feel like such a grown up."
"I'll still love you even when you're all disgusting and mature, don't worry." The mischievous sparkle in the blue eyes staring down at her provoked another giggle from Santana's throat before she nodded.
"Good."
It's hard to pin down the moment you've become an adult. There are legal boundaries - when you can drive or drink or sign a contract on your own - and there are traditions in cultures - a quincinera or a bar mitzvah - but it's impossible to determine the precise second you've "grown up." Is it when you buy your first house or get married? Is it when you've received your diploma, or your first degree? Is it when you can walk into a bar and buy your own beer? Is it when you've had your first child? There is no widely accepted life period when you have become an adult, because really, what does that entail?
Are you an adult when you choose responsibility over fun? When you put others before yourself? When you receive your first pay check? Or when you begin paying your own bills? Is it when you choose a glass of wine over a shot of Jager? When you move out of your childhood home? When you've lost everything, and are decidedly on your own?
It has been and always will be different for every individual who has ever existed or ever will exist in the universe. Perhaps it is when you finally feel as though you are an adult that you are one. Maybe you must make the conscious decision to accept your title, and continue on in your life. Or, maybe, just maybe, we are all eternally children, playing dress up in high heels and suits, pretending we know what we're doing. That seems much more likely.
"God, your ass looks amazing."
"Irrelevant."
"Totally relevant. I appreciate a good looking ass, and your ass right now? Definitely looking good."
"I very seriously doubt that the dentists are going to care if my ass looks great Britt."
"I care. So when you come home from being a hot working woman in your pencil skirt and heels, I can appreciate your ass while I make dinner. Ass Appreciation Tuesdays. We should start that tradition too." Her smirk wasn't in the least bit subtle, but there was something else in her eyes that Santana didn't quite recognize, something that she couldn't put my finger on. Whatever in the hell it was, it sent a tingle down her spine and forced, though she certainly wasn't fighting it, a shy smile to make its way across her face.
The heels she was wearing had them at the same height, so when Santana stepped forward, their lips were perfectly level. She planted a soft kiss on the corner of the blonde's mouth before turning away coyly to change back into her shorts and t-shirt. "That all sounds great B."
And it did. It had been years since Santana'd had a proper home, somewhere that felt welcoming when she walked in the front door, somewhere that she could call my own. She'd had a taste of that living with the Puckermans, but now, in an apartment that often felt empty, it was an intoxicating thought to believe that when she got off of work, someone would be there, anticipating her return and excited to see her.
Santana felt strong arms wrap around her before she'd managed to pull her things back on, and she whispered Brittany's name with an edge of warning, and a distinct tone of attraction. The latter won though, and before she knew it, Santana was pressed against the dressing room mirror, with warm hands trailing up her thighs. There was no hope in containing the moan that passed over her lips, and the next sound she heard could have been either a sigh or a gasp from Brittany when she canted her hips to meet her girlfriend's.
"Not again," accompanied by a knock on the door confirmed that it was neither. It was exasperation personified by one of the employees, and as the girls quickly parted, Santana yanked on her clothing before opening the door to the room. "It's against protocol for employees to let guys into the girl's dressing rooms," she heard barked in the opposite direction, toward a cowering trainee. When the female in question turned back around, Santana's chocolate eyes locked on hazel. "Oh shit."
The two girls in the dressing room both flushed scarlet, before Santana spoke up. "Um, hey Quinn. What's up?"
The blonde threw a questioning look at Brittany, arching one eyebrow, before turning to back to face the girl who'd spoken. "I don't know what's going on in here, and frankly, I don't want to know. Hands to ourselves everyone, how's that sound? I'd appreciate if you could go and pay for your things and leave, and we can all put this behind us." With that, she shut the door to the dressing room, and as Santana gathered her items, she heard the quiet chuckles from behind her.
"Not funny Britt."
"I think it's hilarious."
"No Naked Sunday for you then," she smirked as she walked out of the room, leaving a second flustered blonde in her wake that day.
It took several moments for Brittany to recover, and when she did, her girlfriend was nearly finished checking out. "That isn't funny Santana," she called as she ran after her girlfriend. "Not funny at all." By the time she'd managed to catch the smaller girl, they were in the middle of the food court, though that certainly didn't stop her from scooping Santana in her arms and swinging her in circles until she promised that Naked Sundays were back on.
"Fine, fine, fine! I promise we can reinstate the Sunday tradition! Just put me down!" she giggled, thrashing slightly in her girlfriend's arms. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she turned in Brittany's arms to press a chaste kiss to her lips, though a two word sentence snapped her quickly out of her daze, her head turning toward the speaker. "Excuse me, what was that?" She feigned ignorance, hoping her tone would be enough to discourage any further attacks.
"You heard me, you fucking dyke."
Brittany had her tightly wrapped up, but she was seething, and no amount of strength would hold her back. She pulled herself out of the blonde's embrace, meeting the offending character head on. "Brian."
"Santana," he said lowly, returning the nod she'd given him.
"How's your father doing? You still get weekend visits, is that right?" Her teeth were bared, and her eyes flashed with a darkness Brittany had never seen. Her stature held nothing but unadulterated rage, and it was impressive how well she was controlling that.
"He actually goes up for parole next month. Time flies when you're having fun, doesn't it 'Tana?" His words were laced with the evident sneer on his face, and it took all of her self-control not to smack the look off of his features. "He was just trying to help, and look what you did - landing him five years in prison. Doesn't seem fair for someone like you to be walking around free when my father's behind bars, does it?" His rhetorical questions were digging into her skin, and Brittany could see her visibly shaking. "Obviously, he'll have to find you for round two when he's out, because the first time didn't do a damn bit of good."
In an instant, Santana's hands flew toward him, focused on nothing more than inflicting any fragment of the pain she'd been through, but her girlfriend managed to pull her away moments before she made contact. "He's not worth it love," she whispered into her ear, tugging her away gently to the entrance of the mall so they could in the car and leave the entire situation behind them, as best they could.
Curled up on the couch with two mugs of hot cocoa, the girls absentmindedly watched a movie, the silence from the afternoon yet to be broken. Brittany let out a resounding sigh before finally regarding the giant elephant in the room, as much as she knew they'd both rather have it left alone. "Who was that, Santana?"
Her girlfriend took in a shuddering breath before responding, her eyes fixated on the cup in her hands. "His name is Brian Adams."
"And he is? Aside from an adult with no social graces that is."
"The foster home I told you about - when I was 13? Those were Brian's parents. He didn't even know they were fostering anyone until he found out about his father going to prison. Brian and his father were involved in a lot of groups that were combatting gay marriage and equal rights and all of that, and he thinks what his father did was entirely justifiable."
"That's insane though! I mean you were - "
"I know, Britt. I know." Santana willingly fell into her girlfriend's arms, snuggling closely into her side and letting her steady breathing sooth the flurry of emotions coursing through her body.
"Are you afraid of what will happen when he gets out?"
"Terrified."
