Revisited and revised.
05
Going out with Brittany's parents becomes a habit. They are staying in town for a few days and there are very few people beside their daughter and Santana who they are acquainted with. It surprises her how well they treat her most of the time, as if nothing had happened between her and their daughter; as if they hadn't hurt each other in the past; as if she was merely a childhood friend of their daughter's they had grown fond of.
It does help that Santana is the perfect hostess. She drives them around, buys them dinner, is always well informed about what's happening in the city, and bends her schedule to fit them in as much as she can. They dance around the past, never mentioning anything close to the unspeakable end. It's not easy to reminisce without bringing it up, but they are managing it. The face Mr. Pierce makes is more than enough for everyone to know when to stop. Santana also understands how complicated it must be for Brittany to have her parents around and suddenly be held accountable for her every single decision. From what Santana has picked up on, they were quite fond of Cox and it's not easy for them to let him go.
They arrive at the movies. Mrs. Pierce is talking excitedly about the movie they are about to watch - a historic drama starring her favorite actor, apparently well received by the critics. Santana and Brittany aren't big fans of the genre, but they humor Mrs. Pierce anyway. Mr. Pierce buys them all tickets and his silent look towards Santana as he hands hers off feels like a thank you, to which she nods. She cannot understand that man and his version of tough love.
Brittany's parents sit to her left and Santana to her right. Brittany monopolizes the popcorn, as usual, but Santana doesn't mind. She tries to focus on the movie to ignore the feeling of Brittany's thigh against hers. It's distracting. If she were honest with herself, from the moment Brittany held her hand during that first dinner with her parents an invisible line had been crossed. Their unspoken agreement had changed, filling their time together with forbidden, hidden touches that made her skin crawl and her heart race.
Santana doesn't avert her gaze, refusing to check if Brittany is paying as much attention to their touching as she is, to see if it takes the blonde off her balance as much as it does Santana. So she looks at the screen instead, reading the opening credits with an attention and dedication she wouldn't otherwise have. But then, when the movie finally starts, Brittany covers Santana's hand with her own and it's impossible for Santana not to look to her left and check if it's really happening. Brittany's parents are immersed in the film, thankfully, and no one else seems to notice.
Santana cannot understand what lies behind the sweet look Brittany gives her, the underlying statement that holding hands is the most natural thing in the world. The moment ends when the sound of an explosion brings their eyes back to the screen, the warmth of Brittany's hand equally disturbing and settling. Santana can't bring herself to let go, and they hold hands to the very end.
Brittany looks out the window as Santana drives to the airport. She's relieved that her parents' short stay is coming to an end. They were unintentionally demanding, not only to her but also to Santana. She feels immensely thankful for the brunette, who had been nothing but pleasant and had fitted into her schedule a family that wasn't her own. She drove them around, took them out for dinner and movies, out for ice cream and to the museum. She discussed the divorce, with Brittany's permission, and she impressed them with her professionalism and excellent oral skills.
From Brittany, the demands were of a different nature. They wanted her time, her thoughts, her feelings, in their attempt to protect their daughter from the painful situation; especially her mother, who looked at her with worried eyes. They were permanently talking to her, analyzing her in search of the smallest hint of sadness. She would lay her head in her mother's lap for hours, enjoying her gentle touch massaging her head and playing with her hair.
She doesn't mind that much, most of the time. But an entire week proved itself to be a reality shock and a tiring experience. Being obliged to talk again and again and again about every little detail made her process the situation and come to terms with it, in a way. She had cleared her mind on the topic and could finally see a future for herself unattached from John. She began to accept the change in her heart and her new opinion of him.
She missed him, still. She missed their daily habits and his company. His things were out of the apartment, at least, so the visual reminders of him were finally gone. But the memories persisted, and the process of recreating rituals was slow and often saddening. Most of all, she missed having someone who knew her inside out, who could read her face like an open book; someone who just understood, without an extensive explanation on the reasons and consequences of herself.
Santana nudges her shoulder, waking Brittany from her melancholy. Lighten up, the brunette mouths to her, and Brittany smiles in response. She loves how Santana is always paying attention to her and her needs. Even after so long and so much, Santana has her back. Her parents argue in the background about the presents her mother had bought for the entire family in Ohio and the possible excess baggage. The women fall back into comfortable silence. The sun is shining. Brittany loves sunny days.
For Santana, it feels like rediscovering uncharted territory. She and Brittany have to define their limits all over again, one by one. Their relationship has a past, an amazing one, but not a present. They officially mean nothing and own no explanation to each other. Practice, though, has proven that Brittany is not merely a client, that Santana cares for her and her well-being. It is frustrating for the brunette, who likes to imagine herself as a woman free of regrets, in terms of her life and her past.
Santana does not take clients out for ice cream or for a cup of coffee. She doesn't take them to the movies just because they love the seventh art and have no company, like she is doing at the moment. Her heart doesn't race when her clients accidentally or deliberately touch her. She surely doesn't feel protective of her clients. She imagines what Alexander would say about her behavior and the disapproving look she would surely get. At least he is out of town and would never know. His words still sting, because she knows that he's not entirely wrong.
A talking lizard says something funny on the screen and Brittany laughs. Her hand settles right above Santana's knee like she owns it, her arm resting on Santana's thigh and her thumb caressing exposed skin. Santana half wishes she was wearing pants and not a skirt, and half wishes her skirt was shorter too. It seems to last forever. She doesn't know how to react. She lets it happen, never acknowledging the pervasive touches but also never rejecting them.
The movies have become their safe haven. It's light, an opportunity to just sit there and enjoy each other's presence. It is free from people's wondering eyes and judgment, protecting them from both circles of friends. Its forced anonymity feels strangely liberating to Santana. It is a moment she shares with Brittany and Brittany only, where their own boundaries are blurred and forgotten. It reminds her of her youth, when they were girlfriends and went to the movies every Saturday afternoon.
After a few minutes, Brittany takes Santana's hand and intertwines their fingers. Santana secretly loves it; the way the blonde recreates their physical connection so naturally, like Santana still belongs to her. For the first time, Santana gathers the courage to make a bold move, lifting the armrest out of the way and pulling Brittany closer. The blonde shifts in her seat so that her body turns to Santana a bit as the brunette's arms sneak around her. Santana breathes weakly, hesitant about her own bold gesture. She hopes Brittany doesn't realize how fast her heart is pounding.
Brittany throws her head back a bit, sighing contentedly. Her forehead is resting against Santana's neck as she settles in a comfortable position. Her hands find Santana's once again. Some time later, the talking lizard meets a talking turtle and the blonde laughs at their interaction. Santana smiles softly and for the first time in a long time, there is no pressure, no worries, no expectations. She kisses Brittany's forehead slowly, breathing in her sweet perfume.
Santana has to admit she has been slacking on Brittany's case. Her law firm was working full speed, and with Alexander's trip to Washington she's had a lot to handle on her own. She had two recent additions to her team – a pair of young, promising girls who had just graduated – who still needed to be taught how to play the game. Her free time, normally a chance for her to focus on Brittany's divorce, had been completely consumed by Mr. and Mrs. Pierce's visit.
She looks at Brittany, who's getting them both a cappuccino, and promises herself she will not do it again. If she lets herself get too caught up, the case will never come to an end. Brittany deserves an end; even if means Santana might have to stop seeing her. She doesn't know if they've really reconnected or if it's just a passing imposition. Their ability to easily fall back into old dynamics could possibly imply falling back into disconnectedness and confusion.
"There you go." Brittany arrives. "Searing hot, just like you like it," she says before sitting down and sipping her cup. Santana mirrors the gesture. It's delicious and hot and the mere contact with caffeine makes her feel better.
"Thank you," she answers. It's early because she wanted their meeting to be the first thing in her day, even if just to allow her to meet Brittany outside the office. Santana doesn't feel comfortable there, the atmosphere being too distant and cold for the situation. The clash of worlds bothers her; the past versus the present, lesbianism versus heteronormativity. For the moment, she prefers to keep it compartmentalized.
"So. I can either give in or fight," Brittany declares, summing up the entire situation with simplicity, as usual. Santana secretly hopes for a fight, partly because the blonde shouldn't settle for less and partly because Santana wants to spend more time with her, even if just as a lawyer.
"Yes. He is unwilling to accept our conditions. You can come up with another proposal and wait for his response, of course. Our other option is a litigious process, where a judge decides who is right or wrong in this. It takes, however, much longer. And it's likely to be more painful." She sips her coffee slowly, purposely giving Brittany time to answer.
Brittany stares at her cup for a long moment. "I just want it to be over soon, Santana. Could we maybe meet, the three of us? Maybe we can reason with him," Brittany says and looks at her, asking for her permission. Santana sighs and nods, telling herself it can work out. Maybe what Cox needs is to face reality.
Santana is replying to an email on her iPhone when Brittany kisses her cheek affectionately. "Hey you." She puts down her phone and looks at the other woman, who has both hands on the armrest of her chair and is looking at her with a smile. Santana smiles back, feeling warmer with the gesture. Their faces are still close, the tips of blonde hair cascading over Santana's shoulders and impregnating her nostrils with the sweet scent of Brittany's shampoo.
"Ready to go?" Brittany asks, straightening up. Santana nods, placing her phone back in her purse. She had ordered an espresso before, but it was already finished and paid for. "Sorry I'm a bit late, by the way." Santana acknowledges the blonde's outfit: tight jeans, boots and a white t-shirt. She likes what she sees, but says nothing.
"You're forgiven." Santana gets up and gestures for them to go, opening the door for Brittany on their way out. "It's not like we have a tight schedule, anyway." That is the beauty of a Sunday afternoon, after all; its slow rhythm, with nothing else to do but bask in tranquility and let the day pass by. The weather does nothing but help, sunny and fresh.
"Did I tell you my good news?" Brittany asks as they walk side by side on their way to the park. "An old friend – you know, Jim, from the dance company – called me the other day to tell me he's putting together a number and he wants my help." Her face is beaming with a hint of pride and accomplishment. "He said he remembers how good I was and he wants to talk. We're meeting next week to discuss things."
"That's great!" Santana smiles at her. Brittany deserved everything, and this change, however small, was probably good for her. It would give her something else to focus on, something that doesn't have Cox written all over it. "I bet you'll rock his world," she says sincerely, nudging the blonde's shoulders with her own. "Do tell me all about it after you meet with him."
Brittany looks down, grinning, and Santana finds this shyness adorable. They arrive at the park, doing their best not to get in the way of the children running and having fun. Santana feels calm, for a change, and she decides to enjoy the feeling as much as possible. They sit by the lake, in front of the most perfect tree in the world, according to Brittany. It was a complex calculation; the comfort of the tree versus the grass versus its closeness to the lake and, of course, the ducks.
Santana begins to talk about her week and Brittany rests her head on Santana's shoulder, causing her to wrap an arm around Brittany's waist in search of a better position. It feels good to be able to relax and not talk about anything important; to sit under a tree and have Brittany's picnic basket next to her in case they – or the ducks – get hungry. Brittany's fingers trace random patterns on Santana's thigh and it tingles.