A/N: Some of you said you miss Snixx. Here, have some grown-up Snixx. :)
The call came the very next day. The casting team wanted to see Shelby one last time. There was no indication if that meant she had made it to the final round of auditions, or if they wanted to be sure before cutting her.
"At least we'll know soon," Santana said after Shelby relayed what she had been told.
"That's true," Shelby said. She was fidgeting, clearly caught between excitement and nervousness. "It's on Friday. Do you want to come up with me this time?"
Santana smiled. Shelby had been walking on eggshells around her since their talk the previous night. Her hyper-awareness was sweet, but unnecessary. "I appreciate that. I don't want you to be distracted, though. This is obviously a bid deal if they know it will be the last time they bring you in."
Shelby bit her thumbnail as she thought. She was quiet for several moments. "I would like you to come with me. I'm going to need to focus that day, but once it's done, we could have a nice weekend in the city. Maybe…get a feel for the neighborhoods?"
Santana's smile turned into a grin. "I would love that."
"You said Noah was wanting to have Beth overnight, right?"
"Yeah, he mentioned it when he dropped her off."
"Do you want to ask him if he'd like to watch her for the weekend? Not that I want to leave our BooBoo here, but we'd cover a lot more ground, especially when it's so cold right now."
Santana's grin became a smirk. She knew exactly what that meant. Shelby had a valid point – it would be near impossible to spend much time outside with the toddler, given it was the middle of winter. If they were going to accomplish any neighborhood exploring, the fact of the matter was that it would be easier to do so without toting along Beth. And all of that translated into a weekend alone with Shelby in their favorite city.
"On it," she said, grabbing her phone off the coffee table in front of them.
"I'll go start looking at flights." Shelby leaned over and kissed Santana's cheek before disappearing into the bedroom where she kept her laptop.
"We're going to have to talk to them about this, you know," Santana called after her. Puck knew what was potentially coming, but Shelby really needed to talk to him about it. Quinn, too, though her living in Connecticut would make it difficult to have such a conversation when all she need do is hang up if she didn't like what she heard. The more she thought about it, the more it started irking her that she was the only one that had discussed this with Puck. That wasn't fair. Why was this on her, telling a guy that his daughter was probably about to be ripped out of his life again?
"I know. I don't want to cross that bridge until I know what is or isn't happening, though. I don't need Quinn pissed at me again over something that might not even happen."
"Right," Santana muttered, dropping their conversation as her call to Puck connected.
"Sup, mi chica bonita?"
Santana rolled her eyes. "Sup, cabrón?"
"I don't know what that means, but it sounds sexy when you say it, so I'll take it. What's up?"
"You busy this weekend?"
"Was gonna go out with my boys Saturday night. Why?"
"Shelby has another callback in New York on Friday, and she wants me to go with her. Can you reschedule your boys' night to have a sleepover with your daughter?"
Puck was quiet for a moment. "This New York thing is getting pretty serious, isn't it," he finally said, his tone significantly different.
"All we know is this is her last audition for it. She'll talk to you and Q if anything happens."
"I don't like this."
Santana really didn't want to be pulled into this conversation again. It was ultimately Shelby's to have. And why wasn't she having it? Damn it. "Look, all we can do is take this one step at a time. We're on, like, step three of ten, so let's do step three and worry about four and five later."
"Whatever. When you leaving?"
"Some time Friday morning. Don't know what time yet. We'll be back Sunday night."
"Fine. Let me know when you're gonna drop her off."
"Thanks, Puck. We – " But the line had gone dead. Santana sighed and closed her eyes for a few seconds before venturing into the bedroom.
Shelby glanced up from her computer screen. "Everything okay?"
"I'm done having these conversations. I don't care if they're my friends – you adopted her from them. The next time someone has to tell one of them you might be leaving, it's going to be you." Santana fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to count the speckles in the texture to stay calm.
"Oh, honey, you should have said something. I would have called him."
"I did say something. You didn't want to have to talk about leaving unless you knew for sure."
Santana saw Shelby spin her chair to face her, though Santana didn't bother sitting up to actually talk face-to-face.
Shelby's voice was tense. "You seemed eager to call him."
"Because I was only thinking about getting my mack on in the city when I agreed to call. When I said you needed to talk to them would have been a good time for you to volunteer doing so."
"I don't know what's going to happen with this."
"Contrary to popular opinion, Puck's not an idiot. He knows what this could mean. He was asking about it last time he watched her, too."
"You should have said something."
Santana almost laughed. "I need to tell you that you need to at least consider the feelings of your child's biological parents? Who, by the way, you've let reattach to her after they gave her up, only to take her away again."
"I didn't force them to give her up!"
Santana sat up, quickly growing livid. "Why am I the only one acting like an adult about this?"
Shelby's eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"
"I'm not implying anything," Santana said, climbing back off the bed to stand. "I'm telling you to act like a parent and deal with your babymama-papa drama instead of ignoring it or letting it become my problem. Because I'm done letting it be my problem."
Santana walked out before Shelby could reply. She was seconds away from saying something she knew she would regret, and she did not want to get into a screaming match with Beth nearby. Instead, she grabbed her coat and keys and stuffed her feet into the Uggs by the door and left. She didn't know where she was going; she only knew she couldn't be in there right now or she would make an already bad situation worse.
She was going to walk, but when the bitter cold air hit her, she changed direction and got in her car and drove. She had no destination. She just needed to clear her head. Shelby may have apologized for taking advantage of Santana's willingness to support her, but she had done it again the very next day.
Santana argued with herself. She should have made Shelby call Puck. She shouldn't have to make Shelby talk to Quinn and Puck. She should have just ignored Puck's questions and let Shelby deal with it from the beginning. Shelby should have talked to them before she even auditioned. Beth was Shelby's, she was free to move where she liked and didn't need permission from anyone. Shelby wasn't doing it intentionally. Why was she even caring about Quinn's and Puck's feelings? Shouldn't she always be on Shelby's side? Didn't they just cry to each other about being partners? Partners. What a gross term. Hetero couples didn't call each other partners, did they?
Santana groaned, slamming her palm on her steering wheel hard enough to make her pause and hope that she hadn't set off the airbag. She pulled into a vacant lot and threw the car into park, deciding she'd rather not get into an accident during a fit of rage.
She let her head fall against the steering wheel, fists clenched as she counted backwards from ten, breathing slowly.
"Fuck," she muttered when her fists had finally relaxed and she sat back. She was still pissed, at herself and at Shelby, but she didn't feel like she was about to explode anymore. Her pocket vibrated, and she pulled out her phone, glaring at the notification that Shelby had texted her. She threw her phone into the passenger seat and stared out the windshield, the wipers groaning against the lessening show.
She counted back from ten again, in time with the wipers, and reached for her phone. She swiped it open to see what Shelby had to say.
"Am I still booking two tickets?"
Santana didn't know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Of all the things she could have said, she just wanted to know how to finish booking her trip. The angel on Santana's shoulder told her she was just being realistic, that she needed to get the tickets booked before flights sold out, but the little devil kept whispering about how Shelby had completely missed the point.
She grumbled to herself, tapping her phone against the wheel until she swallowed an ounce of her anger to be able to reply with a short, "Yes."
She waited a minute before adding, "I'm really pissed at you."
"I know."
"I know?!" Santana crowed, almost throwing her phone at the windshield but thinking better of it. "You know I'm pissed? Way to go, Sherlock! What was your first hint?"
Instead of typing any of that, she dropped the phone back on the seat, ignoring it when it buzzed again a few seconds later. She counted back from twenty before pulling out of the parking lot to make her way back home slowly, taking as many detours as she could manage before parking in front of their condo.
She hoped she was calm enough to not blow up at Shelby the moment she walked through the door. She sat in the car a few minutes, until it grew uncomfortably cold. Giving in to curiosity as she walked to their building, she checked the ignored text message.
"I love you."
"Damn it." Santana shoved the phone into her pocket as she climbed the four flights of stairs. She felt the anger trying to melt away as she warmed up, though a healthy amount had settled low in her gut.
The apartment was nearly dark when she entered, just a lamp in the corner of the living room left on, presumably so she wouldn't trip over anything. It was quiet, too. She noted that Beth's door was closed, signaling that she had been put to bed for the night. Santana pulled off her boots and coat before crossing the room, turning off the lamp on her way to their bedroom. It was dark as well, just Shelby's small reading lamp burning on her nightstand. The bed was empty but turned down, and the bathroom door was shut, the exhaust fan whirring and shower running.
Santana undressed and climbed into bed, willing herself to sleep. She really wanted this to be over, but it wouldn't be over until Shelby figured out how to change what she didn't seem to understand she was – or wasn't – doing. If that wasn't going to happen tonight, she didn't have the energy to go through it all again.
She was almost asleep when she heard the bathroom door open, felt the familiar dip of Shelby getting into bed, and heard the lamp click off. She lay still, feigning sleep, but Shelby had been able to tell when Santana was or wasn't sleeping from the very first night they had spent together.
"I'm sorry, Santana," she said quietly.
Santana sniffed an acknowledgement. It was all she could give her tonight. She felt Shelby rustling behind her, then a hand resting lightly on her bare hip, pulling just slightly. It was how Shelby always got her attention to initiate lovemaking when they went to bed with the intent to actually sleep.
"I have a headache," Santana grumbled, rolling a little to try to get out of Shelby's reach.
Shelby got the hint and her hand disappeared. It allowed Santana's annoyance to dissipate further, until she finally fell asleep.
She awoke with a start hours later, though the room was still dark. Her arm was asleep, pinned under her pillow, and she tried to roll onto her back, but met resistance. She panicked for a second, only to realize at some point in the night she had ended up where she had so begrudgingly refused to be – facing Shelby, and wrapped in her arms.
Santana frowned, the dead weight of Shelby's unconscious arms keeping her from rolling away. As miffed as she still felt, she really didn't want to wake her, as she was sleeping so soundly. She hadn't even stirred when Santana jerked awake. With a sigh, she tucked her head back under Shelby's chin where she had spent most of the night.
To be continued...