Chapter Summary: Brittany invites Santana over for Christmas supper; Santana should have known that the Pierce's would all be as endearingly charming as Brittany.
Notes: Thanks for being so patient the past couple days! My school year started late so they pushed our end of term late too, so this week has been crazy busy but the chapter's here now and it's still on time in my timezone lmao.
Forgive any mistakes in this because I just did one last checkover while severely sleep deprived lmao. Tomorrow's chapter will either be up early morning or late afternoon!
hot chocolates and crackers and family smiles
Santana's drifting in and out of a dream filled with blonde hair and blue eyes when she registers that her phone is ringing. She groans and buries herself further under her blanket, desperate for even a couple more seconds of sleep. After all the excitement yesterday she had thought she would immediately crash after crawling into bed last night, but she ended up wide awake for most of the night, her mind continuing to replay the disbelieving and overjoyed look on Brittany's face once she saw her family sitting there in that back room. Despite all that she's overcome and done in her life, she's pretty sure her proudest moment was last night, when Brittany turned back to her with that tender, adoring on expression on her face that made it impossible for Santana to doubt that Brittany returns her feelings.
She's, like, almost one-hundred percent positive that Brittany is as in love with her as Santana is with Brittany, because the look on her face last night was so simple and honest that Santana can't imagine what else it could be.
Her phone stops ringing and she sighs, still drifting between sleep and consciousness, but there's barely a moment of silence before it starts ringing again, finally tipping her towards consciousness. Santana grumbles as she emerges from her pile of blankets and glares at her vibrating phone on the bedside table. It's a two show day, which means she really should answer her phone in case there's some emergency at the theatre that desperately needs to be addressed, but that doesn't mean she's going to be happy about it.
She finally grabs her phone and answers it with a grunt that could, generously, be interpreted as a hello.
The laughter that answers her is like the best alarm clock in the world.
"Brittany!" Santana says, and instantly she's wide awake. She wonders if she could record Brittany's laugh and use that as an alarm instead of whatever prerecorded sounds are on her phone because it does a much better job of waking her up than her real one.
"Took you long enough to answer grumpypants," Brittany teases, and the smile in her voice brings one to Santana's face in return.
"I thought you where the ghosts of the theatre trying to get me to come in early," Santana yawns.
"Forget the ghosts of Christmas past, the ones with bowties and too big egos are much more terrifying," Brittany agrees with a laugh.
Santana hums and lets her eyes close, pretending, just for a moment, that Brittany's voice isn't coming through her phone and is instead right beside her. She imagines how nice it would be to be wrapped around Brittany right now; Brittany's always so warm and Santana's always so cold, and she always sleeps the best when Brittany's breathing is the soundtrack for her dreams, her heartbeat lulling her to sleep like—
"—so would you like to?"
Santana blinks her eyes open, startling back to the present. "I'm sorry, what?"
Brittany laughs, high and fluttery, and Santana can hear the hint of nerves radiating from the sound. "Did you fall back asleep?"
"No," Santana protests immediately, and then, after Brittany's little disbelieving noise, she adds sheepishly, "Maybe a little?"
Brittany giggles and there's a moment of silence where they just listen to the other smile before Brittany restarts her question. "I was saying, before you so rudely fell asleep on me—"
"Hey!" Santana protests around a laugh. "It's not my fault you called at," she pulls her phone away from her head to check the time, "seven thirteen in the morning!"
"—that Holly gave me the day off since my family's here," Brittany continues as if Santana hadn't interrupted her, "and it would give Jane some real experience on stage. So I was wondering if you wanted to have Christmas supper with my family tonight?" she asks and basically causes all of Santana's body to shut down as all functions are redirected towards trying to stop her heart from leaping out of her chest.
"Really?" she whispers, "I don't wanna, like, intrude or anything."
"You wouldn't be," Brittany hurries to insist. "My mom suggested it, actually, and I'd—" Brittany's voice drops to a whisper and for a moment Santana feels like they might be the only two people in the entire world, "I'd really love it if you came."
Santana's heart swells in her chest until it feels too big and too bright for her body to contain it, and then just as quickly a sudden, disappointing thought strikes her and her heart crumples and shrinks like a crumped up paper towel. "Britt, I'd love to," she sighs, "but it's a two show day. I won't be out of the theatre until, like, after eleven."
"Well," Brittany drawls sheepishly, "I may have mentioned that to Holly and she may have offered to give you the second show off, since you were hired on such short notice with no complaint and Holly said she really appreciated it and you deserve a little break and also so Quinn can get some more experience running the show. Only if you want of course!" Brittany adds hurriedly. "No pressure or anything! I totally get it if you don't want to because you don't know my family and I know they can kinda be a bit much sometim—"
"I'd love to," Santana interrupts quietly, and she can hear Brittany's teeth click as her jaw snaps closed.
"Really?" she breathes.
Santana grins into the darkness and snuggles further into her blankets, the warmth surrounding her nothing compared to the warmth in Brittany's voice. "Definitely," she promises.
Santana just listens to Brittany smile for a long moment, before Brittany manages a "Cool" that barely contains her happiness it's so bright and warm. "You can just come over after the matinee or whenever. Mercedes and Sam are coming after the evening show too, so."
"Okay, see you then," Santana murmurs.
"See you," Brittany whispers and there's a beat of silence, a farewell missing that is unspoken but not unfelt, before they both whisper bye and the same time and giggle as they hang up.
Santana clutches her phone tightly in her hand and turns to bury her face into her pillow, willing herself not to burst from the dizzying force of the love that courses through her body, before she finally gets out of bed to get ready for the show.
Santana spends the entirety of rehearsals and the matinee being mercilessly teased by, in turn, Quinn, Mercedes, Mike, and then Tina.
At least Tina is helpful about her teasing; Quinn just smirks at her the entire morning of rehearsals and then even more during show, somehow both amused and haughty, Mercedes and Mike won't stop making kissy faces and cooing at her the entire lunch break when she eats with them, both of them ganging up on her completely unfairly, but Tina is the only one who is actually useful while she's teasing. She helps Santana redo her makeup after the matinee so its less I'm an exhausted production stage manager don't talk to me or I'll snap and more I'm confidently meeting my not-yet-a-girlfriend girlfriend's parents despite not being confident, like, at all, and then helping Santana pick out an outfit without either of them even being near her closet because Tina just knows her so well.
"I can't believe you're actually worried about making a good impression," Tina mumbles as she concentrates on getting Santana's eyeliner just right, "You've already made such a good impression that I don't think there's any left for the rest of us."
"That's not how it works, twinkle toes," Santana snarks.
"I know that you doofus," Tina says with a dramatic eye roll, "I'm just showing you how absolutely ridiculous you sound for thinking even for a second that her family won't like you."
"I know it's just—" Santana cuts herself off and looks away quickly. She looks so fretful that Tina doesn't even scold her for almost causing Tina to draw a black line across her temple with the eyeliner. "If— If Brittany and I start dating," Tina snorts a little because please they've basically been dating since the moment they met, "She's never going to meet my family, unless they all pull their heads out of their homophobic asses, which will probably happen about the same time I marry a man, so never." Tina quiets and gently strokes her hand over Santana's shoulder until Santana finally glances back up with a slightly watery smile. "That's why this is so important," she continues quietly, "Because they're— I don't have anyone to introduce her to and— I mean—"
"Hey, hey, hey," Tina coos before Santana's tears can even fully form, "I get it. I know why this means so much to you— You're getting the chance to have a family again." Santana just nods, not trusting herself to speak, and Tina lets her wallow for a moment before she smiles a little. "But you don't gotta worry about that. After yesterday I already know her parents adore you, and I only meet them in passing."
Santana sighs and murmurs her thanks, tilting her head back up and allowing Tina to return to carefully applying Santana's makeup.
"Tina?" Santana says quietly, and Tina hums a little in acknowledgement as she carefully taps the mascara brush to Santana's eyelashes. "I already have a family," she admits quietly.
There's really nothing Tina could say to that statement than what Santana's already said, so instead she just folds Santana into her arms and holds her tightly. "You know Mike and I have arguments all the time about which of us gets you for our future wedding party," she jokes, as if this hasn't been a real concern whenever Mike and Tina discuss their hypothetical future wedding, "Mike insists on claiming you as his best woman because you two are bros but I always call dips on you as my maid of honour because I knew you first and finders keepers, losers weepers, Michael."
Santana's laughter is muffled against her shoulder. "I should totally exploit this and make you duel each other for my affections."
"Oooh that's a good idea," Tina says mock-seriously, and then, completely serious, "I'd crush Mike though."
Santana giggles and settles again, her insecurity fading under Tina's comforting embrace.
Santana hasn't had Christmas with anyone besides her mom, and sometimes her mom's chill younger sister when she's in the country, since her abuela disowned her all the way back in high school. It's stung deeply every year no matter how hard her mom would work to keep her mind from dwelling on the thought, but now, surrounded by the laughter and playful teasing of the Pierces, it feels like a distant memory of another life.
She's spent the last four Christmases alone, but watching Brittany and her sister gang up on their dad with two rolls of wrapping paper while she helps Whitney cut up vegetables in the kitchen reminds her why she used to love the holiday so much when she was younger; back when her abuela would hold her hand at midnight mass and sneak her chocolates from her pocket when the minister wasn't looking, when her and her cousins would terrorize the neighbourhood with their Crazy Carpets and sleds, when her mom would always wake her up in the morning so they could make homemade cinnamon buns, just the two of them, for breakfast before opening their presents, Santana's presents always wrapped with care after her mom picked up so many overtime shifts to afford whatever Santana wanted for Christmas that year, her mom's presents always sloppily handmade or cheaply bought with the money she got for walking Mrs. Sandia's dog from down the street.
She forgot what it's like to be surrounded by the joyful chaos of a family who loves so loud.
A hand on her arm startles her out of her thoughts and she jolts a little, turning to find Whitney smiling softly at her. "Penny for your celery," she says quietly.
Santana glances down in surprise; she hadn't even realized she was finished slicing the celery. She should probably pay more attention and not zone out when she has a knife so close to precious fingertips. She quickly sets the knife down and allows Whitney to reach across her and take the cutting board so she can dump the celery into the stuffing. "I just—" Santana starts, and then quiets for a long moment. "I just forgot how much I missed this," she finally admits, quiet and honest. "My extended family didn't really like that I'm— Well I haven't seen them since I was in high school, and for so long it was just me and my mom which was perfectly fine with me. But then after— After everything, it was just me after."
Whitney sets the cutting board down and turns to pull Santana into a tight hug, her arms strong and warm just like Brittany's always are and the thought makes Santana smile. "Blood doesn't always create love," she says wisely, and Santana's eyes wander to the living room and catch on Brittany and her dad, giggling as they hang garland from the window.
They look nothing alike; Brittany's about a foot taller and all California girl beauty, blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes and summer sun freckles where her dad is straight hair and coffee dark eyes and clear skin, but they have the same smile, one that quirks their lips up and spreads them thin, scrunching their cheeks up to their eyes until they're actually glowing from within, a smile that Santana can't help but return whenever she sees it no matter what's going on around her.
How some people don't think that Pierce is her dad because of something as dumb as biology is beyond her; she knows better than anyone that blood doesn't mean anything unless you choose to make it mean something.
"Thank you," she mumbles into Whitney's shoulder, "For letting me crash your family-time today."
Whitney shakes her head, pressing a motherly kiss to Santana's temple as she pulls away, releasing Santana to brush dark hair back from her face. "Of course," she says, her lips quirking up into a small smile as she playfully pinches Santana's cheeks before growing serious again. "You make my little girl happier than I've ever seen her," she continues, and heat prickles Santana's cheeks, "and you made today possible, so, really, thank you."
Santana's still blushing when Brittany wanders into the kitchen a couple minutes later, her uninhibited smile growing wider as she watches Santana and her mom work side by side in the kitchen.
"What?" Santana says self-consciously, but Brittany just shakes her head wordlessly, refusing to say anything. She doesn't have to, because between Brittany's bashful-hopeful look and Whitney's knowing smile, Santana knows exactly what Brittany's thinking, and there's nothing she wants more than for Brittany's thoughts to come true, for her to be doing this with the Pierces for years to come.
After supper Whitney and Brittany disappear to her room to hunt for a deck of cards in her closet, one that Santana promises she one-hundred percent saw when her and Brittany were looking for Christmas tree ornaments the other day. Pierce is as goofy and sweet as his daughter, and Brittany's sister is as snarky and teasing as her sister, and Santana takes great joy in watching the Pierces and matching their characteristics and mannerisms to Brittany's, finding that she fits in with them as easily as she fits with Brittany.
After a couple minutes of being recruited into helping Brittany's sister hunt through the kitchen drawers to see if there's a deck of cards there, she heads down the hallway to see if Whitney and Brittany had any luck; she's pretty sure the deck was in the crumbling cardboard box with half its lid missing that her and Brittany shoved to the very back of the closet shelf.
The sound of her name catches her attention as she nears Brittany's room, and she slows to a stop and pauses outside the doorway. The light from Brittany's lamp—the lightbulb in the ceiling light went out yesterday morning and Brittany hadn't had time to replace it yet—spills out into the hallway and casts Brittany and Whitney's shadows long and looming on the opposite wall as she concentrates on the conversation in Brittany's room.
"Why didn't you ever tell me that you have a girlfriend?" Whitney asks incredulously and Santana's heart relocates to her throat, somehow pounding in her ears all the way down to her toes. "You've already told me so much about Santana this past month, you could have told me she was your girlfriend not just your friend, you know I don't care who you date as long as they treat you right, and Santana so obviously does that."
"No, it's not— It's not that— It's just—" Brittany stutters, but her mom just continues to talk over her.
"You don't have to be embarrassed, sweetie," Whitney promises, "your dad and I think she's wonderful. And not just for flying us out here. I'd don't think I've ever, in your whole life, seen you as happy and settled as you are around her, and she absolutely lights up whenever you walk in the room. You don't have to be scared that we won't approve or something. I mean how could we disapprove, we adore her already."
"I didn't tell you because she's not—" Brittany stutters, and Santana can easily picture the soft flush to her cheeks, "We're not— I mean, we are but we aren't, you know?"
She can see Whitney shake her head in the shadow on the hallway wall. "I— I don't think I follow."
Brittany laughs a little, her shadow dancing a little with the motion. "It's okay, I don't think I was following either."
Whitney's shadow shifts closer to Brittany's until they're indistinguishable from each other. "Why don't you try again?" she offers.
Brittany takes a deep, steadying breath, and when she speaks Santana can hear the smile in her voice. "We only went on our first official date on Monday," she explains softly, "But we've kinda been unofficially dating, like, every single day since we meet, more or less."
"So then," Whitney's voice trails off and Santana wonders if her brows quirk in the same way her daughter's does.
Brittany laughs a little and it looks like her shoulders shrug by the way the shadows twitch near their combined heads. "I mean, you know me, I'm usually pretty content to just let whatever happens happen."
"But you already know what you want," Whitney says knowingly.
Brittany laughs again, her voice bright and happy. "Of course I do, I want to be her girlfriend for, like, a really, really, really long time."
Santana's pretty sure she stops breathing entirely. She had known, of course, or at least suspected, but hearing it said aloud kind of makes Santana want to run up to the rooftop and shout that Brittany S. Pierce, the most amazing and brilliant and snarky and sweet girl in the entire world, wants to be her girlfriend; no one else's, just her girlfriend.
She takes a moment to compose herself before she sneaks back to the kitchen, finding Pierce and Brittany's sister engaged in hot chocolate making.
"Did they find it?" Brittany's sister asks as soon as she spots Santana.
Santana panics for a moment shrugs, opting for honesty. "I dunno, it sounded like they were having a serious conversation so I didn't interrupt."
Brittany's sister eyes her for a moment—and Santana is suddenly thankful her blush is never too obvious to people who don't know her really well—before she shrugs and turns back to the fridge to locate the whipped cream.
Pierce glances up from putting the kettle on and grins at Santana, who's hovering awkwardly at the end of the kitchen counter. "Has Brittany ever taught you how to make our World Famous Pierce Hot Chocolate?" Pierce asks. Brittany's sister catches Santana's gaze over her dad's head and rolls her eyes, circling her finger around her temple as she shakes her head, causing Santana to bite back a grin. When Santana shakes her head Pierce gasps, apparently scandalized and insulted by the fact. "Well we gotta fix that right away," he insists, urging Santana closer, "Now it's a secret family recipe but you seem to have a friendly face so I'll trust you with it."
Brittany's sister snorts from across the kitchen at her dad's antics. "It's not a secret family recipe if you keep sharing it with people not named Pierce, dad," she chides teasingly.
"Nonsense," Pierce says with a wink in Santana's direction, "Everyone in this household today is an honorary Pierce."
Santana blushes at Pierce's words—at the thought of being a Pierce—and listens avidly to the family recipe, feeling more Christmasy than she has in years.
By the time Santana—for the seventh time, not that anyone's counting—gets her ass whooped by all the Pierces at every card game they know, the evening show at the theatre should just be calling half hour, which means there's a half hour before the live action How the Grinch Stole Christmas is going to start. While Whitney and Pierce decline the next hand of Blackout and disappear into the kitchen to make popcorn and pull out all sorts of snacks, Brittany's sister takes it upon herself to teach Santana the best way to beat Brittany. For someone who's being ganged up on, Santana doesn't think she's ever seen Brittany look happier; though she would be lying if this whole day, being so easily accepted into the Pierce family, hasn't made Santana happier than ever either.
Pierce and Whitney emerge with snacks just as Santana successfully wins her first hand for the very first time all night, and Brittany's pout at losing is completely useless because she has to hide her smile behind her cards; Santana can still see it in her sparkling blue eyes though.
Whitney and Pierce distribute snack bowls before sinking down in the couch, Brittany's sister quickly claiming the third cushion, glancing between the only seat left, the armchair perpendicular to the couch, and Brittany with a challenging smirk.
Santana's a little behind on the uptake, because before she knows it she's being dragged off the living room floor and tugged down onto Brittany's lap in the armchair. Brittany's soft and warm and blushing under her, and Santana's thankful for the darkened living room because it hides her own blush as she sinks into Brittany's arms, Brittany's admission to her mom earlier at the forefront of her mind.
"Hi," Brittany whispers as Pierce searches through the channels to find whatever one is playing the movie.
Santana sucks in a deep breath; from where she's perched she can feel every breath Brittany takes, every tiny movement of her thighs, every stroke of her hands over her own legs, burning her fingerprints into Santana's skin with her touch. "Hi," she manages.
The armchair is tucked into the corner, not private but a little bit removed from the other occupants in the room. Brittany adjusts them a little more, wiggling around underneath Santana until she can grab the bowls of snacks beside the armchair and pass them to Santana as she manhandles Santana until they're both more comfortable, Santana's butt tucked between the arm of the chair and Brittany's thighs, her legs draped over Brittany's so she's curled completely into Brittany's lap.
There's still ten minutes before the movie so Whitney offers to get drinks for everyone, disappearing to the kitchen while Pierce and Brittany's sister get into a discussion about the best Christmas movies of all time.
Brittany's fingers tracing small hearts on her legs draws Santana's attention away from an argument about the merits of Elf versus The Santa Clause, both of which are obviously inferior to Home Alone, the best Christmas movie ever, in Santana's humble and obviously correct opinion.
When Santana meets blue eyes through the dim of the living room she's suddenly struck by the realization of how much she wants to be doing this for the rest of forever.
"I'm really glad you came today," Brittany whispers, her breath warm and sweet from chocolate and honey roasted peanuts, "I just— Having you here was just— It was—"
"I know," Santana says quietly, her smile making her cheeks ache from how wide it is, "I know what you mean."
Brittany hums and her hands relocate to loop around Santana's waist and hug her tightly. Santana sighs and leaves the bowl of snacks in her lap to balance against gravity on its own as she wraps her arms around Brittany and nuzzles into her. "Yeah, that's," Brittany starts and then seems to lose her thoughts as Santana's lips press fleetingly to the sensitive skin of her neck. "That's," she tries again, but then gives up and just cuddles Santana to her instead of trying to form a coherent thought.
Their snacks are long forgotten—as are their drinks once Whitney returns with them—as they just cuddle in the darkness and watch the movie, Brittany's fingers trailing along Santana's legs and Santana's playing with Brittany's hair, occasionally grabbing Brittany's fingers to play with to throughout the movie.
Just as the Grinch is in the middle of stealing Christmas from the Whos, Brittany's lips find her ear in the dark, pressing briefly to the peak of her cheekbone before they locate their target. "There's nothing I want more than to do this next year too," she breathes, like she's standing at a wishing well with her eyes shut tight and a penny clutched in her hand, like she's making her greatest wish in the world before flicking her penny into the darkness, like she's hoping more than anything that it will come true.
Santana turns her head a little so she can look into Brittany's eyes, her lips hitting Brittany's nose on the way past. "Me too," she promises quietly.
Brittany's eyes soften and melt and Santana falls straight into the adoration and love sparkling there and she knows—she knows—more than she's ever known anything else in her entire life, that she's going to be falling in love with those blue eyes every single day for as long as Brittany will have her.