Keep Me Where the Light Is (part 15)
I think I've already lost you
I think you're already gone
I think I'm finally scared now
And you think I'm weak, I think you're wrong…
I think you're already leaving
Feels like your hand is on the door
I thought this place was an empire
And now I'm relaxed, and I can't be sure…
But I think you're so mean, I think we should try
I think I could need this in my life
And I think I'm scared, I think too much
I know it's wrong, it's a problem, I'm dealing…
If you're gone, maybe it's time to come home
There's an awful lot of breathing room, but I can hardly move
And if you're gone, baby, you need to come home
'Cause there's a little bit of something me
in everything in you….
(If You're Gone ~ Matchbox 20)
Sunday, October 9, 2022
9:03 PM
Brittany did not realize she had dozed off on the living room couch until she was pulled from sleep by a knock on the front door of her apartment. She sat up and took a moment to stretch the stiffness out of her back and neck muscles before standing and walking over to the door.
As she moved, she looked across to the digital numbers on the microwave, seeing it was shortly after nine o'clock at night. Before she reached it, there was another insistent knock on the door, so she yelled ahead of her arrival, "Just a second…I'm coming!"
"Hi," beamed Rachel Berry once Brittany opened the door.
"Hi," the blonde returned the greeting with significantly less enthusiasm.
Brittany had just seen Rachel backstage at the Gershwin Theatre two hours earlier, following their Sunday matinee performance, but it wasn't unusual for the tiny starlet to be found at Brittany's apartment building over the last few months.
Things were definitely getting more serious between Rachel and Grayson Knox who were often together in Grayson's apartment on the floor below.
"Can I come in?" Rachel asked since Brittany stood there motionless.
"Oh, yeah…sorry," Brittany shook her head at her current social ineptness as she stepped aside hesitantly, saying, "Come on in."
Anytime Brittany and Rachel crossed paths, it was always in the building's stairwell. In fact, the blonde could not remember the last time, since the miscarriage, that she and Santana had any visitor inside their apartment.
Even when Daniel and Trey Berry came to town at the end of September to see their daughters, more specifically to check up on Santana at the request of Rachel, the only thing Santana would agree to was meeting them for a brief dinner where she simply smiled and nodded a lot and insisted she was "fine".
Brittany played along, as usual, during that visit, just as she did at work and on the phone with her own parents, maintaining that everything was normal, hoping if she hung on long enough that eventually everything would fall back into place. The only problem Brittany silently acknowledged was her approach was definitely not working, because nothing about her marriage to Santana was normal these days.
"Where's Santana?" Rachel inquired, spinning around to face the tall dancer.
Brittany shrugged and grimaced, her natural reaction lately when Santana's name was mentioned, retorting, "I don't know…she was gone when I got home."
"Oh," Rachel frowned, knowing her sister well enough to sense it was odd for her to be out late without telling her wife.
"Did you need something?"
"I wanted to make sure you guys are coming to Quinn's Welcome to New York dinner tomorrow night," Rachel sounded as excited to have an excuse to host a dinner party as much as she was about Quinn accepting the job offer at the Soho Theatre, reminding, "This is mine and Grayson's first party together."
"Yes, I told Quinn I would be there," Brittany replied in an even tone, "but I can't speak for Santana."
Rachel took a deep breath, saying sadly, "But…it won't be the same without you both there."
"If she feels up to it then I'm sure she'll come down for dinner," Brittany ventured a guess, internally recognizing that any attempt at predicting Santana's behavior or attitude lately was futile.
The short brunette spun around the other direction again, seeing the television and asking with some puzzlement, "What are you watching?"
Brittany had forgotten about the DVD that was playing in the background. She reached quickly for the remote to switch it off, replying tensely, "Nothing."
Before the screen went dark, Rachel easily recognized the moving images as Brittany and Santana on their wedding day. She remembered how wonderful the ceremony was on the beach as the sun was setting, how truly gorgeous and in love her sister was that day, and how magical the reception was under a party tent with all the colorful lights.
It seemed unfair now that she stood in Santana and Brittany's apartment five years later while both their lives privately crumbled around them, but Rachel was determined to do her part to prevent their demise. She looked back at Brittany with a giant smile and an upbeat attitude, "That is still the best reception I've ever been to!"
Brittany bit at her lower lip, embarrassed that Rachel saw she was watching her wedding video alone. She could only hope she did not also see the crumpled, white tissues on the couch and floor and was inwardly thankful for the apartment's low lighting.
"Brittany?" Rachel prodded her sister-in-law.
The blonde looked again at Rachel, "Yeah, it was an amazing night for sure. Trey did an excellent job with the tent and the lights."
"I remember him saying that Santana insisted the lights be multi-colored instead of just white," Rachel reminisced with delight.
Brittany nodded, feeling moisture form in the corners of her eyes. She did not know that part specifically, since the girls left the details of the reception to Santana's father. Trey Berry was a very skilled florist and wedding planner, and since he and Daniel insisted on paying for everything, the brides told him to surprise them.
"Like fireflies out in the woods, right?" Brittany presumed, knowing a tent with colored lights held special meaning for her and Santana.
Rachel laughed, "That's exactly what she told him."
Unable to hold back her tears, Brittany sat on the couch and lowered her head to her lap, sobbing.
"Oh, Britt…," Rachel sat next to her, caressing the back of the larger girl's head, "I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't mean to upset you…I thought I was helping."
Brittany continued to cry without lifting her head.
"Brittany…," Rachel said softly, draping her arm over the curve of Brittany's back.
The blonde sat up once her tears slowed, sniffing and wiping at the wetness around her nostrils.
Rachel picked up one of the crumpled tissues from the couch cushion, handing it to Brittany.
"Thanks," Brittany responded, using it to blow her nose.
"What's really going on between you two?" Rachel tucked a long strand of golden hair behind the other girl's ear.
Brittany shook her head, "We're fine…everything's fine."
"No, you're not," Rachel put her hand on Brittany's forearm, squeezing it for support, "Britt…I love you and Santana so much. You're my entire family, and I want to see you both happy again."
"I…I…," Brittany stumbled over her words, fresh tears forming. She could not even remember what happy felt like, but she knew with certainty that, without Santana, she would never have that feeling again.
"Is this about the miscarriage?" Rachel wondered aloud.
Brittany shrugged and shook her head, wiping more at her eyes and nose.
Rachel reached to turn Brittany's head by her chin, "Talk to me…please."
Brittany took a deep breath, revealing, "I have no idea how to make things better, Rach. I've tried everything, but ever since Santana lost the baby…I don't know, it's like I'm the enemy."
"The enemy?" Rachel repeated, baffled at the description. The small brunette had grown over the years to know Santana nearly as well as Brittany knew her. They trusted each other with every big decision, every secret, and the Santana Lopez who Rachel loved as her own blood sibling truly adored and worshipped Brittany Pierce from the time they were all schoolmates. "Santana loves you, Brittany," Rachel reassured her.
"I know she still loves me…I mean, I hope she does, but…," Brittany choked back more tears, emotions she had pushed away for six weeks, "…she won't talk to me, she won't get anywhere near me anymore. She ignores me, and when she does speak to me, she's just so…hateful."
"I don't mean to pry, but have you two ever discussed adoption?" Rachel asked cautiously.
"She won't adopt," Brittany responded vehemently, her voice cracking with emotion as she spoke, "I've suggested it…several times. I've offered to carry our baby myself. I'd go to Dr. Le tomorrow, but she gets angry and says no."
Rachel sighed, "I'm really sorry. I wish there was something…anything…that I could do for you guys."
"It's like a personal defeat to her, that her body won't work properly," Brittany surmised.
"Some things are out of our control," the brunette tried to console, rubbing Brittany's back tenderly.
"I don't know what will bring her peace," Brittany's heart ached so much for her wife, fresh tears pouring down her face.
"Britt…," Rachel put both arms around her old friend, pulling her into a tight embrace, allowing her to cry out her bottled hurt.
Neither girl heard the opening of the front door over the sound of Brittany's crying.
"What's going on?" Santana asked with a hard edge to her naturally-raspy voice.
Rachel looked up to see an angry expression on her sister's face. Before she could say anything, Brittany stood quickly and walked toward the bathroom, wiping at her wet face, saying over her shoulder, "I'm going to take a shower."
Left alone in an awkward silence, Rachel subtly picked up four crumpled tissues around her.
"What are you doing here?" Santana asked again, telling her, "I hope you're not here to check up on me, Rachel."
The smaller brunette stood, walking over to a nearby trash bin and dropping in the tissues. She nervously pulled down the long sleeves on her shirt and tucked a long strand of brown hair behind her ear before speaking, stepping closer toward her sister and attempting a light-hearted air, "Of course not. I was here to make sure you two didn't bail on our dinner date tomorrow night."
"Is that tomorrow night?" Santana shifted, putting her house keys on the coffee table in front of her and crossing her arms.
"Yes ma'am!" Rachel forced a huge smile, "You can't tell me you forgot, because now I know you know…so you better be there."
"Maybe," Santana did not want to commit.
Rachel moved closer and reached up to cup Santana's left elbow, but Santana took a step back.
"Have you been drinking?" Rachel asked with concern, smelling cigarette smoke and hard liquor on the taller girl.
Even in the low light, Rachel could see that Santana's face had no expression.
"I'm worried about you, Santana," Rachel confessed.
"Don't be," the Latina said flatly, "I'm fine."
Rachel stepped closer and reached to hug her. Santana stepped backwards again but ran into the couch, nearly toppling over.
"You're so angry lately," Rachel pushed, "You really need to talk to somebody about what's going inside you. I'm scared what might happen if you don't."
"You should leave," Santana said firmly, pushing her sister toward the front door.
Rachel allowed herself to be escorted out of the apartment, but she turned around in the doorway to say as compassionately as she could, "I love you, Santana. I'm here for you if you decide to talk about it. I really hope to see you tomorrow."
Santana closed the door, locking it immediately, then walked back over to the couch, plopping down with an audible huff and growling slightly. Her only thought was how dare her sister pass judgment on her? Seriously? She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. So I had a few drinks at the pub? Who cares? I'm an adult. I'm certainly not pregnant anymore. I can drink whenever and whatever I want.
As she internally justified her actions to herself, she looked down, seeing two more crumpled tissues wedged between the couch cushions. She knew Brittany was talking about her to Rachel; she could tell with how upset Brittany seemed. Santana's anger dissipated some as she thought about her wife.
She hated seeing Brittany cry. Anytime Brittany was upset, particularly with her, Santana felt like her heart was being ripped out, but she felt powerless lately to do anything about it, immobilized by internal emotions that were too difficult for her to process.
The water was running in the nearby bathroom so Santana kicked off her shoes and leaned forward to pick up the remote, turning on the television. Familiar images instantly appeared on the screen. Santana watched for a few minutes, engrossed in the memory playing out in front of her…Brittany and her dancing together at their wedding reception.
She looked more beautiful than ever that day, Santana thought to herself, seeing the wide smiles on both of their faces as they danced so carefree and in love. The Latina watched as they kissed each other in the center of the dance floor, surrounded by family and friends. She could remember how much Brittany's kiss always brought her comfort. Why can I not surrender to that now? She sighed heavily. I love her so much, Santana reminded herself, tears in her eyes as she watched them dance in each other's arms.
Santana pushed the button on the remote to switch off the screen, apprehensively twisting her wedding band on left ring finger. The running water was all she could hear in the apartment's stillness. She stood and moved toward the bathroom. Hesitating a moment, she slipped off her ring and set it in her velvet-padded jewelry box that sat on top of the chest of drawers.
The brunette took a second to look at herself in the mirror that hung on the wall before turning the knob and pushing open the door. She disrobed quickly, throwing her smoke-covered jeans and shirt to the far corner then adding her underwear and bra on top of them, opening the door to the shower stall.
Brittany was leaned against the tiled wall, letting the hot water rain down over her, sobbing. The sound of the door's seal popping open caused her to turn toward it, seeing Santana as she stepped in with her.
"What are you doing?" the blonde asked, her sadness mixed with surprise.
"Shhh…," Santana told her, running her hand down the back of Brittany's wet head, pulling her by the neck into a tender kiss.
Brittany pulled back, unsure of this side of her wife, but Santana pulled her again into a kiss, following with another kiss then another one as she moved from Brittany's mouth up her jawline to behind her ear.
"I don't understand," Brittany said; her voice filled with defeat, fresh tears mixing with the water that covered them both.
"I know," Santana said softly, moving her arms around her wife's waist and running her fingertips along her slick skin, admitting, "Me neither."
The two of them said nothing further, stroking each other's torsos, their arousal slowly building as they reconnected physically. They kissed and touched and kissed some more as the water cleansed the distance from them.
After several minutes, Santana reached down between her wife's legs and gently slipped her finger inside, finding a thicker wetness there. She massaged Brittany up and down and back up again, always returning to the hard knot that elicited a deep moan from the blonde each time she focused on it.
With the water droplets pelting her nipples and the intensity growing inside her, Brittany felt her legs weaken so she leaned back against the wall, its coolness in stark contrast to the warmth of the water and the heat deep in her core. Brittany felt Santana adjust her leg up under Brittany's leg in order to brace her better. Santana also moved her right arm around the taller girl's hips, giving her more support.
Brittany felt secure enough to move her own arm to search out Santana's core. When she pushed inside her wife, she felt the brunette lean even further into her and breathe heavily against her right ear, whispering, "Ohhh, Britt."
Knowing each other as intimately as any two people could know the other one, they both moved their fingers up and inside, each hearing an instant gasp. They gave each other a second to take in the fullness before moving in and out with long, meticulous strokes.
The more Santana moved inside Brittany, the heavier her weight against the Latina's leg became, and the more Brittany moved inside Santana, the more she lean against the blonde, pushing them both against the solid support of the shower wall.
As the muscles in Brittany's core grew tighter, it was harder for Santana to push her fingers deeply, especially with the only angle she had available. After a passionate kiss against Brittany's mouth, she trailed down the blonde's long body, making a brief stop past each of Brittany's nipples, sucking hard, ending up on her knees with her face between her wife's legs.
Santana propped Brittany's right leg over her shoulder and continued her stimulation orally, focusing again at the hard nub that was enlarged and throbbing. She licked and sucked, staying out of the stream of water enough to maintain steady air flow, feeling more and more pressure on her shoulders as Brittany braced herself with her hands.
"Ohhh…ohhhh," Brittany verbalized, feeling Santana's tongue push inside her core before coming back out and flicking at her clit, "Oh goddd…Saaaantannnna."
Santana repeated that pattern several times, pushing her tongue as deeply inside her wife as she could but consistently returning to suck at her most tender spot. Eventually, her sucking pushed Brittany over the edge, sending an explosion of electricity and emotion through Brittany's entire body, triggering a powerful sob.
As her body trembled with release, Brittany slid down the wall, collapsing into Santana's arms, laying her head on Santana's shoulder and crying.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart…I'm so sorry," Santana kissed her wife on the side of her face, holding her naked body close as the now lukewarm water cascaded over them, reaffirming, "I love you, Brittany."
Monday, October 10, 2022
7:22 PM
Grayson Knox removed two clear wine glasses from his kitchen cabinet and filled them nearly-full with pungent, red liquid before taking them to his living room and handing one each to Brittany and to Santana.
"I'm so glad you both are here," Rachel's face lit up as she patted Santana's knee.
Santana turned her head and smiled lovingly at Brittany who was seated comfortably next to her on Grayson's leather sofa. She took a sip of her wine then reached for her wife's hand, squeezing it affectionately.
"So Quinn…," Rachel turned her attention to the blonde across the room, "…what did Yale say when you told them you took the Soho job?"
"Well…," Quinn Fabray grimaced and looked at Cate who sat on the loveseat beside her, "They were disappointed…but supportive."
"I'm sure it helped that you agreed to teach your Tuesday/Thursday classes through the end of the semester," Brittany surmised.
"That definitely eased the burden on the department," Quinn agreed. She knew they could easily replace her as a professor once the university had time to interview and hire an appropriate candidate, but she felt extremely guilty about leaving the students at the Cabaret. She confessed, "I'll really miss the students though."
"You've left them with the proper tools," Cate assured the younger girl, "Now you can watch them succeed."
Quinn leaned into Cate's body, her hand on the brunette's thigh, "Thank you, honey."
"We should toast!" Rachel stood up and refilled her wine glass from a bottle that was on the counter of Grayson's side bar. She turned and topped off Santana's then Brittany's glass, asking, "Quinn, you've hardly touched yours?"
Quinn was hoping nobody noticed she wasn't drinking from the glass in her hand, thankful when Cate took a couple of tiny sips from it to cover for her. "I'm just tired from the move. If I drink much, I'll fall asleep before we eat dinner."
That statement sounded believable, so Rachel set the emptied bottle back on the bar.
"Cate…are you sure I can't get you something?" Grayson asked from a club chair, "I have beer in the fridge if you prefer."
"No, thanks," the older girl assured him with a polite smile. Cate Boyd was not one to hide the fact she was once an addict who now stayed away from most vices. After twelve years, she still only allowed herself an occasional sip, finding that alcohol gave her no real pleasure even in small quantities.
"Ok, so for my first toast at our first official dinner party…," Rachel cleared her throat and raised her glass when the doorbell rang.
"Saved by the bell," Santana quipped with a roll of her eyes, taking a long drink.
The rest of them chuckled, equally glad for the interruption, and ensured the petite diva she would have her moment at some point in the evening.
Grayson stood and kissed his girlfriend on the cheek then walked over to answer the door.
"We're here!" two familiar voices bellowed from the entry.
"Yay!" the volume of Rachel's voice rising to the same screeching level of excitement, "You remembered the code!"
"Uhh, I did, yes," Blaine Anderson specified, pointing toward the taller guy on his left, "He didn't even get out of the house with the bottle of wine we were bringing."
"Oh, Blaine, honey…details, details," Kurt Hummel dismissed with a tight-lipped smirk, brushing past Grayson to hug Rachel, searching for an appropriate comment, "This place is so…charming."
"Hi, I'm Blaine," the shorter man stuck out his hand to greet Grayson, "Excuse my husband's manners."
"It's ok," Grayson smiled, suddenly feeling very tall as he looked down at the dapperly-attired brunette, shaking Blaine's hand, "Grayson. I'm glad you two could come."
Kurt turned around, giving a slight wave of his hand, "I'm Kurt. I've heard a lot about you."
Grayson nodded, "And I've heard a lot about you. It's nice to finally meet you two."
"Welcome to Manhattan!" Kurt exclaimed as he made his way around the couch to kiss Quinn on the cheek then, running a hand across Cate's shoulders, added, "Welcome back into the fold."
Cate shook her head and smiled, knowing Kurt from years of dating Quinn, and decided to take the gibe as a compliment.
Kurt circled the coffee table to kiss Brittany before plopping down on the other side of Santana, crossing his legs at the knees. "So you're out of seclusion for the night?"
"Kurt!" Blaine scolded as he stood near Grayson with his hands in the side pockets of his charcoal-colored pants.
Santana sighed heavily, "Yes, good to see you too, Richard Simmons."
"The pleasure is mine," Kurt confirmed with a supportive hand on the Latina's knee. The last time he and Blaine had seen Santana was shortly after her miscarriage when they visited the hospital, so he was relieved to see her looking lovely in a red and black cocktail dress.
"So the food is ready if everybody is hungry," Grayson announced, motioning toward the pre-set dining table.
The group took their places around the long table, finding sort of a tight squeeze to get all eight of them around the space meant for six chairs. They passed around the serving dishes of vegetables and one of chicken, each filling their plates before handing the oversized dishes back to Grayson who set them on the kitchen counter.
"If anybody wants more of something then just speak up," the handsome blond told his guests, giving a wink toward Rachel who was at the opposite end of the table between Santana and Kurt.
"So Quinn, have you guys found an apartment yet?" Blaine asked, looking to his right.
"Our realtor showed us a few places yesterday," Quinn answered between bites, "but most of those were…."
"Disgusting," Cate volunteered.
Quinn laughed, "I was going to say overpriced…but yeah, they all needed some elbow grease to make them livable."
"Unfortunately, that's New York," Grayson offered.
"You guys should look at my building, Quinn," Rachel threw out the idea to the girl across the table, "I know of one two floors above me which just opened up. I knew the guy who lived there. He put in new countertops and appliances before he got transferred out of state."
"Your building is uptown though, and with Cate at Cardozo and me working in Soho…I think we want to stay down in this area," Quinn explained.
"I understand. Too bad though, cause it's a great one-bedroom for a steal," Rachel frowned then turned to her sister to present, "Perhaps you and Brittany should come look at it. It's move-in ready, and my building has a doorman and an elevator."
"That would be a nice upgrade, Rach, but you know we can't afford to live in your building," Brittany responded, looking at Santana who sat between her and Rachel.
The Latina gave an awkward smile, setting down her fork to take another long sip of wine. Even though the group was comprised of her family and closest friends, Santana was struggling with the prolonged interactions.
Rachel wiped at her mouth with her cloth napkin, expanding, "Well, it would be a better situation for you two…certainly closer to the theatre, Britt…and it would be awesome to live so near you."
"Rachel…they seem comfortable with their budget," Grayson said delicately.
"All I'm saying is that budgets can be stretched, Gray," the tiny brunette continued, not taking the gentle hint her boyfriend extended, "Santana, you know that Dads have told you for years that they would help you with whatever you needed in order to get out of this walk-up."
"I'm not a charity, Rachel," Santana stated definitively, banging her hand on the table, causing all the plates and silverware to clank loudly, "I was bought for seventeen years, but I will not be bought now."
A tense silence hung over the table. Kurt looked at Blaine while Quinn looked across at Brittany who simply looked down at her plate.
Grayson cleared his throat and stood quickly, "More wine, anyone?"
"Yes, please," Kurt responded with a nervous laugh.
"Got any more of these potatoes, Grayson?" Cate asked, stabbing at two and stuffing them in her mouth to make room on her plate.
Brittany reached under the table to caress Santana's thigh while saying, "We appreciate the fact that you're looking out for us, Rachel…but I think we're satisfied where we are…for now."
Once he passed the dish of roasted potatoes and set it back in the kitchen, Grayson returned to his seat and passed a full bottle of wine. Santana made sure to refill her glass as the bottle made its way around, immediately taking a long, calming drink.
"I think this building is better than many in lower Manhattan," Blaine tried to ease the tension.
"It's certainly better than our first two apartments," Kurt agreed with a gesture of his fork, "That one near the river still gives me nightmares."
"Oh god, I hated that one!" Blaine laughed along with his husband at thought of their first place together after he joined Kurt in New York. They were fortunate that Blaine had success right away and landed several supporting roles in back-to-back-to-back shows, allowing them to eventually move to a nicer area on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.
"I have been very happy here, especially with this neighborhood," Grayson said, watching the faces of Santana and of Rachel who both poked at their food in silence, then asked Cate and Quinn, "Do the two of you want to stay in the West Village?"
Cate swallowed and took a drink of water in order to answer, "Yeah, if we can…but we'll definitely need a second bedroom once the baby is here."
Quinn nearly choked on her chicken when she heard Cate's slip. She had not told anyone other than her mother that she was pregnant, and this was certainly not how she envisioned all her friends finding out.
Rachel paused mid-bite, her mouth gaping open, "Baby?"
"Uhh…I meant…that…," Cate searched for any possible way to cover her faux pas, finding none but realizing that all six sets of eyes were on her and Quinn.
"Who's having a baby?" Brittany asked, shock clearly on her face.
Quinn set down her fork and adjusted her napkin in her lap, responding nervously, "I am."
"You're pregnant?" Rachel asked bluntly.
Quinn nodded, replying, "Yes."
"Pregnant?" Brittany repeated, trying to wrap her brain around the notion, "How?"
"By fucking Puck…again," Santana announced with disdain, instantly remembering the morning she caught them together in Quinn's hotel room.
Blaine leaned to his left and whispered to Kurt, "Maybe we should leave?"
Kurt shook his head while picking up his wine glass and sitting back in his chair, never losing the giant grin on his face, "Not a chance."
"Quinn…?" Rachel was unsure of how the group of them was supposed to respond to this news.
"Santana is correct…I did sleep with Puck," Quinn softened the story in her version, "It was not planned, and I wish it did not happen…but it did, and I am pregnant…again."
"And you're keeping it this time?" Rachel asked.
"Yes," Quinn confirmed, "Cate and I will raise the baby…without Puck. So I would appreciate your discretion in not sharing these details with anyone else."
"Congratulations, Quinn," Grayson offered, not knowing anything else to say and not knowing who Puck was anyway.
"Thank you," Quinn replied softly, giving him a small smile.
Brittany did not know what to think or what to say, but she could feel Santana's body tense next to her. The Latina picked up her wine glass and emptied it in one gulp, setting it back on the table with a thud.
"Yeah, Q…a big round of applause on being two for two," Santana retorted, her words slurring some, "What is that? Some sort of record?"
"Santana," Brittany cautioned her wife.
"No, seriously…I mean, you fuck a guy…the same guy…only twice in your entire life and end up pregnant both times. That's goddamn amazing. I fucked Puckerman dozens of times and…nothing," the Latina scowled and gestured broadly, "You must be the most fertile woman on the face of this earth."
Quinn tucked her napkin under the edge of her plate and pushed back in her chair, standing and saying to Cate, "Let's go please."
"Why are you leaving?" Santana picked up the bottle of wine and tilted it to pour more in her glass. The glass was only a third full before Brittany took the bottle from her hands. "This party is in your honor! We had no idea there was so much to celebrate."
Quinn circled around the table to get her purse and jacket near the couch with Cate not far behind her as Santana stood up and held her glass high, turning toward the angry blonde, "Come on, Rachel…we're ready for that toast of yours. To Quinn! And to her second bastard child. Welcome to New York."
As Santana emptied her glass again, Quinn took three steps closer and slapped the Latina hard across the face, "Fuck you! You can say whatever you want about me, but don't you dare speak like that about my baby."
Quinn turned quickly and walked toward the front door, opening it and stepping out into the hall.
Santana angrily followed after her, pushing around Cate before Brittany could grab her, calling to her, "Santana! Stop!"
"You think you're so fucking special, don't you?" Santana stepped in front of Quinn before she could go down the stairs.
"Do you seriously think this is something I wanted?" Quinn asked.
"No, I don't…that's just it. You don't even want a baby…but for some fucking reason, you get TWO of them," Santana shouted, her eyes glossed over with tears, "I would do anything…anything at all…to have a baby, but I lost mine…and you just give yours away."
"I'm so sorry that you lost your baby, Santana, but don't take it out on me," Quinn told her.
"Do none of you think life's having a big goddamn laugh at my expense here," Santana concluded, looking at the rest of the group who stood around them, "I get raped and scarred for life…she gets drunk and pregnant…twice. How is that fucking fair?"
"It's not fair, Santana! I agree. If I could trade places with you, I would…I love you and Britt that much," Quinn's voice cracked with emotion, "I know you will never be satisfied until you give birth to a child. You're not even satisfied with the idea of your own wife carrying your baby."
"Shut up! I get it, ok? Everybody here can get pregnant except me. I bet even Lady Hummel could if he tried," Santana screamed, moving away from the collected group and heading up the staircase toward her apartment.
"Santana, wait," Brittany called after her, saying as she passed Quinn, "I'm really sorry, Quinn."
The blonde caught up with her wife as Santana opened their front door.
"Santana, please talk to me," Brittany pleaded, shutting the door behind her and following the brunette as she went inside the bathroom, "Please don't shut yourself off again."
Santana turned around to face her wife, her words dripping with venom, "I hate all of you." She then slammed the bathroom door in Brittany's face.
Author's Note: Thank you for your patience while I struggled with this chapter. I hope it gave you guys some deeper detail so you understand a bit more why Santana feels so emotionally tortured.
Please leave me a review to let me know your thoughts. I appreciate hearing for each of you!