When Santana burst through the front doors of the dance studio, she was a woman on a mission. A search and destroy mission. She was pissed, and her daughter and her wife were both going to hear about it. Frankly she didn't even know why she was so angry at Brittany, except that this whole thing didn't have to even BE a thing. If Britt had just stayed put they would have worked it out eventually without all this heartache and anger and guilt and fear and without their kid turning into a habitual runaway and now everything was all complicated and messy and ugly. She stomped down the hall, making a beeline for Britt's classroom, so caught up in her own angry thoughts that she didn't hear the music playing softly, growing louder as she got closer. Then she stopped in the doorway and the sight that met her eyes was so fucking adorable that her anger melted away almost instantly, like it was a block of ice and she'd held it up to an open flame.

She was glad they didn't see her, or they would've stopped dancing. Watching them moving to this music, some overplayed pop song that nevertheless had a nice beat and managed to be not too fast and not too slow, Santana felt her heart almost bursting out of her chest with love for the two of them. It made her feel a little dizzy and off-kilter, the change in emotion, as if someone had quite rudely and without warning ripped the rug out from under her, and she even placed a hand on the doorjamb to steady herself.

The small movement caught Brittany's eye through the mirror but she didn't miss a step, acknowledging her wife with only a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth that was almost a smile and a sudden glint in her eye. Iliana was too caught up in dancing with her graceful mama to notice anything, her small body circling, dipping, stepping, and twirling, making her glossy dark hair fan out around her, and Santana thought that the dimpled smile on her face was one she had not seen there in months.

The song faded away and Brittany walked over to turn off the sound system as Ily placed her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath. "Mama, can we do another one?" she asked even though she looked like she was about to drop.

Brittany smiled at her and said, "You might want to ask Mami."

Following her mama's gaze, Ily spun around to face the woman in question, and her heart dropped. She resisted the urge to go and hide behind her mama.

"Oh ... crap."

"Iliana Marie," came the perfectly synchronized double scolding from both moms.

"I'm sorry I left Mami, please don't be mad, I had to come here, I had to."

Santana pointed a finger at her daughter. "You know what, we'll circle back to that. I need to talk to your mama. Go wait out in the hall."

"But Mami, I -"

The look that Santana shot her way was enough to make her mouth snap closed. She slunk from the room, giving her newly arrived mother a wide berth. Once Iliana was in the hallway, the classroom door closed. Lucky for her, though, the acoustics of an empty dance studio were such that every was not only audible, but it actually echoed. She slid down the wall and hugged her knees, listening and hoping beyond hope that this wouldn't go badly.


"What the hell, Britt?"

"Um, do you want to start over, San? That's not how this discussion is going to go."

There was a brief pause as Santana was sort of taken aback by her wife's firm tone and the sharp look in her eyes.

"I'm just SAYING, you should have CALLED me."

"Are you actually insane? I did. That's why you're here right now, even though you TOLD ME you would let me talk to her and bring her home later."

"I'm too mad, I can't sit home alone when I'm mad."

"What are you mad about, San? I mean, at Ily, sure, right there with you. But stop and think about why you're mad at me. When you have an answer, please tell me."

"Because you. She. I didn't. Oh, fuck, Britt, I don't know! I want you to come home and I hate begging. I shouldn't have to beg you to do this. The only reason I can come up with as to why you left us again, especially after what happened yesterday - "

"Mind-blowing sex," Brittany supplied.

"Yes. The only reason I could think that you would bail again after THAT is that you really don't want to come home. You say that you do but that you're staying away until we're on more solid footing but how's that going to happen if you're not home? Because I can't stop being angry at you, Brittany, not while you're living somewhere that's not with me. And it's this whole stupid cycle like we're stuck on one of those traffic roundabouts and there's just no way we can fix it. And that's YOUR fault. I know that the rest of it is mine, I KNOW that. I'm a bitch and I'm almost impossible to love, I've never understood why you do, but I need you so much and I want to scream at you and I want to break things every time I think about you because you're not WITH me. JESUS!" She slammed her fist against the mirrored wall and Brittany reached out to grab her wrist so she didn't hurt herself.

"Santana, stop it. Stop." Brittany grasped her wife's other hand and pulled her into an embrace as Santana dissolved into tears. "You've got to calm down, baby, do you hear me? We will talk but not like this, not like this."

"Mama?" A small voice sounded from the doorway. Both women looked over to see their daughter peeking through a small crack in the door, her dark eyes wide and scared.

"Stay out in the hall, Ily. Mami and I need some privacy."

"But ... I didn't want this. I didn't mean to make it worse. Mami, stop yelling at her."

"Iliana, do what I said, please," Brittany said more firmly.

"I will but ... Mama, can you tell her, please? What we talked about?" She stepped all the way into the studio and approached her parents. "Mami, we talked and you need to stop shouting and hitting things and listen to what Mama has to tell you."

Santana swiped at the tear tracks on her face before pulling fully away from her wife and landing her gaze on her tiny carbon copy. "I believe you were told to wait in the hall, what was it, three times now? This is your last warning, if you know what's good for you."

Iliana seemed hellbent on doing exactly the opposite of what was good for her because the child actually stamped her foot. "No!" she snapped.

Santana's still-streaming eyes flashed fire and Brittany gave a weary sigh, knowing her girls were on a crash course with one another. "Excuse me, young lady?" Santana said, her tone dangerous.

"San."

They both ignored Brittany's attempt to intervene before this got out of hand. "You told me last night I wasn't being fair to Mama, and now you're not being fair to her! She needs to tell you something but you gotta stop yelling at her and LISTEN!"

Santana stalked forward and took hold of Iliana's arm, turning her quickly to the side and giving her three sharp swats on the ass. Ily shrieked her protest, struggling out of her mami's grip and refusing to cry.

"Santana, enough!" Britt intervened, stepping between her wife and daughter and placing a calming hand on Santana's chest. "Iliana. Hall. Now." To soften the words, she turned and gave the little girl a meaningful look. "It's all right, baby. Mami and I are going to talk just like you and I did."

When the door shut behind Ily, Brittany turned back to Santana, who immediately went on the defensive. "Don't even start with me, Britt, she had that coming from the second she walked out the door the first time, and…"

"Hey. Hey. You and Ily have your own way of doing things," Brittany said appeasingly. "It may not be my way but it's … whatever. Santana, I need you to sit down and talk to me. Talk. Not like yesterday. Yesterday we let the fighting get too passionate and that … it was GOOD, but it didn't get us anywhere."

Santana smirked. "It got us somewhere."

"Well, duh," Brittany replied, rolling her eyes dismissively. "But we need to talk with our mouths. I mean – no! With words, God, Santana!"

"Okay, okay, I hear you. So talk."

Brittany pulled her wife over to a corner of the studio and they both sank down the mirrors and landed seated next to one another, legs sprawled out before them and hands intertwined.

"I love you."

Santana hadn't expected Britt to open with that. She looked up, surprised.

"I love you more than I love life itself, Santana, and I always have and I always will. You taught me about real love when we were just kids, and you keep teaching me, every day. Do you know that?"

It was rhetorical, so Santana just pressed her full lips together and waited.

"But what we have to work on is trust. I know your instincts, baby, and I get it. I do. You see me with someone who is not you, you see a bond forming and your mind goes to that place where you're not worthy or whatever and you think I'm always looking for something more. But Santana Lopez, there IS no more. There is nothing greater, there is no one more perfect for me than you. Don't you understand that yet? No. No, you don't, because you're still carrying around so much self-doubt. But honey. I will spend the rest of our lives reminding you of it, until you believe it yourself. And one day I could go out with an NFL team and all the contestants from Miss America and you won't bat an eye because you know that there is no one in the world for me but you."

Santana was silent for so long that Brittany placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head so that she had to look at her.

"I love you and no one but you, Santana. I am guilty of being selfish with your time because I never feel like there's enough of it. I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry I was too afraid to tell you how I was feeling because the conflict … it's something I've never been good at. You know that about me. But I want to start over and I want to come home. And do you know who made me realize that that's the only answer we ever needed?"

Santana's tear-filled eyes spilled over as she nodded. "Our baby girl."

Brittany smiled. "Our baby girl. Born from love and raised in love and a tiny spitfire version of you with less fear and more emotional maturity than both of us combined."

"That kid I just spanked and sent out of here in tears?" Santana asked in a half-amused tone that was nevertheless choked with emotion.

"That's the one," Brittany agreed.

"Remind me to thank her after I finish here."

Santana leaned into her wife's embrace and as their mouths met she knew it was all going to be okay. This time the tears that spilled down her cheeks and mingled with the taste of Brittany were tears of relief. Hope. Fucking LOVE.


Does anyone want an epilogue? What do you think? Thank you for the reviews and follows and favorites! You guys are the best.