Author's Note: Sorry this took so long! Thank you all for all the great reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Brittany's house was quiet when she walked in; people must have been home since the lights were on, but there was no movement. She walked up to her room and dropped off her Cheerio's bag and her backpack and laid down on her bed. After about an hour there was a light knock on the door.
"Come in," she said softly. Alexis walked in the door and sat in the chair at Brittany's desk.
"How are you, Britt?" She finally asked, after a long silence fell over the two girls.
"I've been better."
"How's Santana?"
"I think she's been better too…"
"Well, I take it the weekend wasn't completely a bust…"Alexis said. Brittany raised her eyebrows. Alexis pointed to Brittany's neck. Brittany grinned.
"You know how we do." Another long silence followed. "Is it bad?" Brittany finally asked her sister.
"To be honest, Britt, I don't know." Alexis looked at her lap. "I think mom's gonna be cool about it, eventually, but dad is still pacing around like a madman, not talking to anyone."
"Worse than New York?" Brittany asked.
"I think so," her sister said softly.
"What do I do?" Brittany finally asked her sister. Alexis shrugged.
"I don't know. Grace is going to be at dinner, so I doubt they'll bring anything up…our parents aren't crazy, Britt, you know that." Brittany nodded. "I'm sure they'll be the types who are sort of ridiculous for now and in a few years when they're acting like lesbianism and Santana are the best thing since sliced bread and we'll have trouble remembering these difficult times." Brittany nodded again. "I would just play it cool. And, you know, if anything goes down, I have your back, and Santana's."
"Thanks, Lex. That means so much."
"DINNER!" Their mother called from downstairs.
"Here goes nothing," Alexis grabbed her sister's hand and they walked downstairs, fingers intertwined.
Dinner was silent. Everyone was awkward, except for Grace, who took the silence from her family as an opportunity to tell them how school was going.
"Where's Sany?" Grace asked. Brittany saw everyone tense at Santana's name.
"She's at home, Gracie," Brittany said softly.
"That's weird. I don't think I've ever seen you at home without her, unless you guys are fighting. Are you fighting or something?"
"No, we're not fighting."
"Good, because I always figured you guys would get married, but you can't get married if you're fighting."
"Two women can't get married, Grace," Brittany's father said. It was the first time he'd spoken all night. "Gay marriage isn't legal in Ohio…it's only legal in those hippy-dippy states like California."
"Actually, dad, gay marriage isn't legal in California. It's only legal in Connecticut, DC, Iowa, Massachusetts, Maine, New Hampshire, and Vermont." Alexis chimed in. Brittany tried not to smirk at her sister.
"Regardless, it's not recognized here." Her father said.
"What makes a marriage gay?" Grace asked her father.
"It's when two people of the same gender get married. The way a man and a woman who are in love get married."
"Oh!" Grace said. "So…like Brittany and Santana?" Alexis looked down at her lap.
"Out of the mouths of babes," Alexis said under her breath. Brittany was pretty sure only she and her mother heard her.
"Honey," her father said to her mother, "why don't you take Gracie upstairs." Her mother nodded and grabbed Grace's hand, leading her up to her room. "Alexis, do you mind giving me and your sister a moment?" Alexis shook her head and left as well. Brittany was left with her father at the large dining room table and everyone's food still lying around, pretty much untouched.
"You want me to clean up, dad?" Brittany asked,
"No." Her father said, quietly. "You know, Brittany," he said, after a long silence passed between them, "I know a lot of gay people." Her father didn't pick his head up from the table. "I went to NYU, and I met your mom when I was living in New York, we had plenty of gay friends….I've been around gay people. Some of the best friends I have are gay people." Brittany nodded, confused as to where her father was going. "You know, 20 years ago, I married your mother. As I stood at the altar on our wedding day, I created this utopian vision of what our marriage would be. We would still be living in New York, we'd have four kids, two boys and two girls, and your mother wouldn't have to work, unless she wanted to. Instead, we moved to a small town in Ohio, had three daughters who I love to death, and your mother has to work to make sure we pay all of our bills. I will never forget the day you were born. You're my first child and holding your tiny little body and looking into those bright blue eyes was the happiest day of my life. And as I stood there, looking at you, I did the same thing I did on my wedding day, and thought about all the things me and my little girl would got through together. We would take you to dance and soccer, and still think you were beautiful when you had braces. Put bandaids on your cuts, watch you hang from trees, braid your hair, teach you how to ride a bike, laugh when you had your first kiss and hold you when you had your first heartbreak. I would walk you down the aisle in your big, white wedding, letting my first child go to a man who would treat her well and whom I trusted. You're my baby girl, Britt, my first child, and it's hard for me to change the story. She'll never ride a bike because it's scary, but for some reason she loves motocross. She'll be a phenomenal dancer and hate soccer. I'll put bandaids on her cuts, and braid her hair, and watch her fall in love with another woman."
"But that is my life story, dad. I hate bikes but I love to dance. I love motocross and I looked ridiculous with braces. And I'm in love with a girl. For all these other things you've been there."
"I know, baby. This is the weird thing about being a parent. I will never say, don't go love Santana as much as you do. I will never say that I don't love you as much as I did the first moment I laid my hands on your tiny little ones, or saw your bright blue eyes gazing up into mine. But I am not prepared for this. I wish that I were. I wish that my gay friends had told me that my child might be gay and that I should prepare myself from that first day when I held your tiny little body that you may hate bikes and soccer and never meet a man. I will never have the gall to tell you not to live your life how you see fit, but it would be a lie to say that I'm not uncomfortable right now. I don't want you to be in a lesbian relationship, Brittany. That's what his comes down to. I want you to be in an easy, normal relationship with a normal guy I can relate to. I want to walk you down the aisle and talk football and see you live a happy, normal life. I would never ask you to change for me. It's hard, though, to change for you. I hope you can understand that, and recognize that one day, it won't be so hard."
"I'm so sorry, dad."
"Hey, Britt, this isn't something for you to be sorry for. This is my problem. I wish I could be cool dad who didn't care, but right now, I can't and it would be unfair of me to pretend I was." Brittany nodded. "All I ask, is that you don't bring Santana around here for a bit. I am totally fine with you spending as much time as you want at her place, I just need a moment to deal with all of this. I'm not cool dad," he said, sadly, "but I want to be, and I worry that having this shoved down my throat will actually delay the process of me seeing you two happy together, and me actually being happy for you." The two of them sat in silence.
"I can't do that for you," Brittany said simply.
"What do you mean?" Her father asked.
"It's exactly what you said. It's not my job, as your child, to live the life you planned out for me. Like I said before, daddy, I hate bikes, and I hate soccer, and I love Santana, and I'm not going to pretend to be someone I'm not in my home. I get that I'm seventeen, and you can make rules like we have at San's about sleepovers and closed doors, but I've worked too hard to be comfortable with myself to have you take it all away from me…" They sat in awkward silence for a moment. "I'm in love, daddy. I want to tell the whole world that I'm in love because I've never felt anything like this before. I know that I can't, right now, and it hurts my heart that I can't just shout my love from the rooftop. And if you want me here, you will have to learn to deal with who I am, with the woman who I think is the love of my life," Brittany said, wondering if she'd saved four years of speaking for this moment of eloquence. Her father didn't respond. "I'm going to sleep at San's tonight so you can think about it," Brittany said, getting up and heading for the front door. She opened, but before she walked out she looked back at her father. "Besides, Daddy, if you'd taken the time to get to really know Santana in the ten years that we've been friends, you'd know that you could have always talked football with her. She won't stop talking about those bracelets." Her father looked at her questioningly. "You know, they wear the orange and the black? And they're from Ohio?"
"The Bengals?" Her father asked.
"Exactly. The Bangels. Like the kind of bracelet. Santana's watched every episode of the season and made me watch too and I know if Palmer doesn't do something the Lopez household is going to erupt and I don't want a repeat of last year when Green Bay beat Pittsburgh and a lot of stuff happened that I didn't understand but had Santana super upset…and you would love it Dad. And you would love her." Brittany looked at the ground, trying to keep the tears from falling from her eyes. Her father didn't say anything, so Brittany felt like she didn't have any other choice and left for Santana's house.