Ask: Had to deal with my homophobic parents all weekend so I'd really love some Mama Lopez/ Santana fluffiness if you're up for it

Notes: I'm really sorry you have to deal with that because that really fucking sucks. I hope one day you get to be in a place where it's better. :((

I hope this cheers you up at least little bit!


we will learn from each other (as you grow up, I will too) — Life by Sleeping At Last


The first time Maribel suspects her daughter likes girls, Santana is seven years-old and they're at a flower shop. Santana stands dressed in her brand new dress and her hair is carefully braided back. She continues to stare at the rows and rows of flowers like she has been for the last ten minutes, carefully picking out the best bouquet to give to her best friend.

Maribel smiles and waits patiently for her daughter. It's rare, these days, that Santana is so carefree and happy, and Maribel knows it has everything to do with her daughter's best friend as surely as she knows that her daughter's sadness has everything to do with her husband's absences and aloofness.

Santana finally settles on a bouquet of white daisies and blue peonies and pink tulips, and she timidly points at it and looks up at her mom with wide, dark eyes and a small smile on her face.

Maribel carefully crouches down beside Santana and reaches for the small bouquet Santana has been eyeing since they first set foot in the store, inwardly rolling her eyes because she should have known that Santana would have picked out the bouquet within the first couple minutes but still want to check every other one there just in case, Santana is her daughter after all. "This is the one you want, mija?" she asks softly

"The pennies look like Brittany's eyes," Santana says guilelessly. Her eyes widen at what she just said and she ducks her head and looks away guiltily, and Maribel feels that small seed of anger at her husband bloom up for a moment. Maribel's not blind; she sees how Santana talks about the other girls in her grade, how she talks about Brittany, specifically, how she only mentions how annoying the boys are in passing, and she also sees how her husband gets that dark, repulsive look in his eyes and how Santana deflates around him when he gets like that.

Maribel's not blind, and she's not dumb, and she knows how careful she has to be, how damaging her words can be, how she hates that her daughter will have to face so much hate on her own, even from her own father, if Maribel's right about what she thinks she's right about.

"They're actually called peonies," Maribel corrects softly, gently taking Santana's hand and guiding her little fingers to carefully trace the delicate petals. "And you're right, they are the same colour as Brittany's eyes."

Santana relaxes and presses closer to her mami, and Maribel hates that Santana feels so unsure and wary regarding her best friend when it comes to her parents, and she beats back the blooming anger at her husband for making Santana feel this way. It's been a long time since Maribel has been in love with her husband, but she's stubborn and determined to keep her family together, not for her sake but for her young daughter.

"She has really pretty eyes, mami," Santana mumbles shyly, her fingers still carefully tracing the blue peony, a small smile on her face.

"She does," Maribel agrees, and Santana presses even closer to her as her smile fades and her brow furrows.

"Am I allowed to say that?" she asks quietly, in a way that makes Maribel's chest ache. "Papi says that I should only think boys are pretty and not girls, but I think Brittany's the prettiest person in the world."

Maribel leans forward to kiss her daughter's cheek and buy herself sometime to think, and she can feel Santana's blush hot against her lips and it makes something bright leap in her chest. She knows how fiercely and how easily Santana loves, and she already knows how much Brittany loves Santana in return, and no matter the current or future nature of that love, it eases Maribel's earlier worry.

"Papi is very," she hesitates and Santana turns from the flowers to look up at her mami with wide, trusting eyes and Maribel tries not to falter in her daughter's faith in her, "traditional. He thinks that only boys and girls can love each other." Santana's gaze never wavers as she watches her mami, and Maribel smiles at her daughter and hopes she's doing this right. "But sometimes, girls love other girls and boys love other boys."

"Like Rachel's dads?" Santana asks and Maribel nods quickly.

"Yeah, just like her dads."

"But papi said I can't talk to her at recess anymore," Santana says with a confused pout. "He said— He said that it's— That it's a vergüenza," Santana stumbles over the words, the unfamiliar Spanish fitting awkwardly in her young mouth.

Maribel sighs and shakes her head. "Your papi isn't always right," Maribel says, brushing a few stray strands of dark hair back behind Santana's ears. "And he definitely isn't right about this but— If you have any questions, ask me, mija, and I promise I'll answer them, okay?"

Santana nods and kicks at the floor for a moment before she raises her head and looks warily at her mami. "So girls can marry other girls like you and papi are married?" she asks slowly.

"Yes they can, mija," Maribel says and she hopes that by the time Santana is old enough to actually be thinking about marriage, she won't be made into a liar.

Santana chews on her lip thoughtfully. "You mean I could marry Brittany?" she asks and, hidden underneath the genuine curiosity, Maribel can hear the hint of hopefulness and she can't help but smile encouragingly at her daughter.

"Someday, when you're older, if that's what you both want, then of course you can marry Brittany," Maribel assures her.

"Okay," Santana says simply, and she carefully takes the flowers from her mami and starts tugging her in the direction of the cash register. They head to the counter and Santana carries the bouquet of flowers as if they were the most precious thing in the world, and Maribel smiles because, at this moment, to Santana, they very well could be.

The woman on the other side of the counter smiles brightly at Maribel as she rings the bouquet through and starts wrapping it. Santana is distracted by the little knickknacks at her eye level, and the woman pauses and leans over the counter, lowering her voice so only Maribel can hear her words.

"I overheard what you said to your daughter," she murmurs, her eyes darting down to glance at Santana with a small smile before she looks back up at Maribel, "And I just wanted to say that I thought you handled that really well." Maribel just stares wordlessly at the woman as she resumes wrapping the flowers. "Not many parents take it so well when they think their kid might be," she hesitates and her eyes dart to whoever is standing next in line and she shrugs instead, "you know. I hope one day your daughter knows how lucky she is."

Maribel breathes out shakily and profusely thanks the women and desperately hopes that she's right.

They make it to the dance studio right on time, and Santana is giddy with excitement at seeing her best friend dance in a recital for the first time. Brittany's parents sit beside Maribel and smile affectionately at Santana as she asks them all kinds of questions about Brittany's dance. Their eyes slide to the bouquet of flowers that's cradled so preciously in Santana's arms and then up to Maribel's with wide, knowing smiles, and Maribel briefly wonders if Whitney and Pierce suspect of Brittany what she suspects of Santana.

The lights dim before she can figure out how polite it is to actually ask that, and Santana squirms impatiently until she spots Brittany on stage, and then she grows very still and very bright, her eyes glowing in the briefly flashing lights of the stage, her smile wide and adoring and uninhibited and Maribel tries to memorize this moment, how happy and carefree her daughter is, how the deep dimples in her cheeks match the brightness in her eyes, how Maribel's heart clenches in happiness and pride that this amazing little girl is her daughter.

Maribel holds Santana's hand and the flowers as they follow the Pierce's backstage, and when Brittany spots them she charges at them and flings herself into Santana's arms, chatting into her ear at a mile a minute. Maribel's quickly takes out her camera and snaps a picture, managing to catch the adoring, excited smiles on both girls' faces.

Brittany eventually releases Santana and gives her parents a hug, flushing under their gentle teasing for completely ignoring them. Maribel hands the flowers to Santana and Santana's eyes widen and, though it's hard to tell for sure, Maribel's pretty certain Santana is blushing. Brittany turns to Maribel and politely thanks her for coming, but Maribel can see the question in Brittany's eyes and she quickly brings her into a warm hug and congratulates her on her small solo, smiling widely when Brittany fiercely hugs her back.

Soon enough, Brittany drifts back to Santana's side, taking her hand and swinging it between them, only now realizing that Santana has something hidden behind her back.

When Santana presents the bouquet of flowers to Brittany, something in Brittany's eyes blooms and brightens and her expression eases from surprise to wordless wonder and something warmer, and Santana ducks her head and blushes furiously when Brittany leans over and kisses her on the cheek, quietly murmuring her thanks against Santana's skin, and there's a double flash of light as her and Whitney both take pictures of their daughters.

/

The first time Maribel knows for sure her daughter likes girls, it's a decade later and Santana is almost seventeen years old and Maribel is washing dishes at the kitchen sink, Santana hugging her tightly from behind.

The relief Maribel feels that her daughter has finally accepted herself is probably only rivalled at the relief Santana feels at being able to tell her mom about her and Brittany, about what she's known about herself for so long but had only just recently started to accept. Maribel reaches up and pats Santana's arm with a soapy hand, feeling Santana's nose wrinkle in complaint against her shoulder, and Maribel grins at the sink.

Her daughter is almost graduated, almost grown, but with the way she clings to her, Maribel can't help but remember that tiny girl with the braided hair and the worried eyes and the delicate bouquet of flowers, and she quickly dries her hands and turns to pull Santana into a fierce hug.

"I love you so much," Maribel whispers into her daughter's neck, blinking back tears when Santana's arms tighten around her and she nuzzles her head into her mom just like she used to.

"We should eat," Maribel finally says when she thinks that the tears are contained, "before Brittany gets back."

Santana flushes as she pulls back and gets that breathless, bashful look at her mother's teasing and Maribel grins at how easy it is to fluster her daughter, but then Santana's expression wavers. "You don't think," Santana starts but then trails off, her eyes bright and tight with worry, and Maribel feels a little bad at her sudden laugh.

"Oh God no," Maribel says as she grabs the pulled pork out of the slower cooker, bringing it over to the table and nodding at the plates and cutlery for Santana to bring. "Whitney and I have known you two were in love probably long before you two did."

"What?" Santana asks blankly.

Maribel laughs as she sits down, accepting the plate and knife and fork Santana offers her. "Santana," she says, waiting until Santana is sitting and reaching forwards to dish up the pulled pork, "I've suspected you were gay since you were seven years old."

Santana blinks, her hand freezing and hovering over the table with a spoonful of pulled pork. "What?" she repeats.

Maribel chuckles and shakes her head, leaning across the table to gently and teasingly push her daughter's jaw back into place. "Mija," she says firmly, a smile playing across her lips, "You've been talking about marrying Brittany since you found out two women can get married. Whitney and I have been planning your wedding since you brought Brittany flowers after the first dance recital you saw."

Santana just blinks blankly before her face stretches into a small, awed smile as she drops the serving spoon back into the pulled pork. "Really?" she whispers, and she sounds just as curious as she did in that flower shop all those years ago, just as quietly hopeful as she did when she asked if she could marry Brittany when she was older.

Maribel smiles and reaches across the table to take her daughter's hand. "Really, really," she promises.

Santana ducks her head and gets that bashful, wonder-filled look that Maribel knows means that Santana feels too full and bright and doesn't know what to do with it, and Maribel pats Santana's hand one more time before releasing it and sitting back. She starts dishing up pulled pork for both of them and gives Santana a moment to compose herself, mindlessly starting to narrate her night at work yesterday and complaining about some drunk patients she had.

Santana doesn't take as long as Maribel thinks she will, and before she knows it Santana is smiling back up at her with eyes as dark and open and trusting as they were when she was seven years-old and Maribel's heart twists in nostalgic pride. "Thank you, mami," she murmurs when Maribel pauses in her story.

Maribel shakes her head and smiles back at her daughter. "You don't need to thank me," she says softly, "I'm always going to love you."

Santana just nods quickly and ducks her head down a little, scratching softly at the skin under her eyes, and Maribel lets her be and pretends she isn't blinking back her own tears. They pass the salad and buns back and forth and regain their composure enough that Maribel starts complaining about work again and Santana chimes in with her own snarky comments and the conversation quickly changes to Brittany and Santana being girlfriends finally, and warm pride settles in Maribel's chest as she listens to the woman her daughter is quickly growing into.