Thank you for the amazing response everyone! I've decided to make this story my main focus now, which hopefully means regular updates in the future. I have so much planned out. It's just a matter of keeping focus and not straying. Getting feedback from you guys totally helps with that, just so you know ;)
I took a chance with this chapter, deciding to write it from their daughters POV. I hope it doesn't disappoint or throw anyone off. The majority of chapters will be from San and Brittany's perspectives, I just couldn't help myself with this one.
Chapter 03
Present Day - Sara
"Mooooom, pleeeease, I can do it myself." You grumble, wincing as a few hairs are pulled from your scalp as your mom attempts to brush out the tangles. Your hair is being particularly unruly since you weren't allowed to shower that morning, instead having been forced to do so the previous night. Going to sleep with your hair still wet was always a recipe for disaster, but your mom hadn't felt well and so hadn't been able to blow dry it for you. You'd toyed with asking your dad, but the last time you'd done so, he'd spent the entire time citing the praises of 'short hairstyles'. Nuh uh, you liked your long, jet black hair, even if it took ages to make presentable. "Oww Mom!"
"Sorry baby." Your mom soothes from her spot on the bed behind you. Rolling your eyes, you grumble once more how it would be easier if you were allowed to style your hair yourself. You had just turned eleven; it's not like you were a kid anymore. Besides, you were only going to a funeral, so a simple pony tail would have sufficed, right? "Honey, please, stop squirming. You're wrinkling your dress." The comb in your hair has snagged again and you can tell your mother is getting frustrated. "San, honey, you think you can do something with Sara's hair? It's worse than yours used to be..." Reaching back, you are about to grab for the brush yourself when your dad appears in the doorway of the hotel's bathroom.
"Yeah, sure, but uh, first, what do you think?" Your mom lets go of the brush in order to clap her hands over her mouth, and you roll your eyes once more at how easily she gets excited these days. Taking the discarded item, you scoot down the mattress a little, smiling up at your dad and brother as they show off their matching suits. "The jacket's still too big for him, but with the vest he should be warm enough, right?" You watch as your dad looks between your brother and your mom, uncertainty etched all over his face. "I mean, it's june so it should be okay. Then again, we're going to be in a church-"
Your mom interrupts his sudden panic, pulling herself from the bed and taking the boy into her arms. "San, he'll be fine. Relax." She presses a sloppy kiss to the four year olds tanned cheek, causing the boy to start laughing in that adorable way of his. While this is going on, you've begun pulling at the knots in your hair, working the brush through in the hopes you can get it finished before your dad actually does try to help you. You vaguely remember him having long hair like yours, back when he was still your Mami, but that was ages ago and therefor didn't count.
"Sara, please wait for your dad to help you." Your mom is frowning at you now, her eyes focused on the large tangle you'd just yanked free. Sighing, you set the brush down and lean back onto your elbows, careful not to crinkle your dress too much. William is still giggling, though he's begun to spit up his breakfast down the front of his new outfit. "Nice one, Will." Your mom notices, wiping it away with one of the many cloths reserved for such a purpose. "This is why we don't own nice clothes." She laughs, dabbing at the offending stain on his previously pristine shirt.
You smirk at this, knowing full well that your parents have a ton of nice clothing in their closets back home in New York. They just never have an opportunity to wear them. Not since your brother was born, at least. "We're like the Addams family, with all this black." You muse, glancing back and forth between your parents. Your mom snorts at this, setting your brother onto the bed next to you. Her dress is a lot like yours, both black and shiny and ending just below the knee. Only where yours has short, puckered sleeves, hers is more of a spaghetti strap. Her shoulders are covered though by a knit jacket of sorts. She looks good, even with her budding stomach ruining the line of the outfit.
Your dad, on the other hand, is no stranger to wearing black. The vest and tie on the other hand... "Dad, you look like a butler." You grin up at him from your spot still reclined on the bed. "I like it though. It's very... refined..." You tease, suddenly hoping you had the right word. At his returned smirk, you only laugh and shrug your shoulders, glancing down to the brush that's still sitting next to you then back up at him. "It would be a shame to get my hair all over you."
"Uh huh, nice try." He's moving around the bed now, grabbing the brush and helping you into a sitting position. Turning so your back is to the foot of the bed, you ready yourself for the pain to come. As he begins pulling at the knots, you occupy yourself with making funny faces at your brother. "He can't see you honey." Your dad points out, prodding at your shoulder and then motioning towards the boy's glasses that sit on the nightstand next to his hearing aids. Your mom pauses from the bags of supplies she's organizing in order to take them and perch them on his nose and behind his ears.
Once the insanely thick lenses are in place, the previously inattentive boy glances up at the hands you have begun waving in front of his face. "Hi cutey." You smile across at him, then begin making funny faces once more. This gets the boy giggling, his tiny hands flopping as he waves his arms in your direction. He may have been four, but developmental wise he was still a baby. Your parents had explained it to you a few times, about how being born so early meant he hadn't had time to fully develop his senses. You know that this is only partially true and that it also had to do with the machines he was on at the hospital for almost the entire first year of his life.
"Sara, baby, do you uh, remember what we discussed last night?" Your dad's voice is shaky, causing you to sigh as you nod your head the best you can with his fingers now weaving through your hair. "About how some of the people we're going to see, um, may not, well, recognize me?" You wince at his faltering and look across at your mom. She's paused once more with her packing, this time taking a seat on the edge of the bed, pulling your brother into her lap. You can see that she wants to help your dad with what he's trying to say to you, but instead focuses on setting up your brother's hearing aids.
"It's okay dad, I get it." You reassure, wishing he was finished with your braid so you could turn around and look at him. You love your dad more than anything, but sometimes his complete lack of self esteem bothers you. That, and you had heard your parents arguing that morning over his facial hair as well as the subsequent cry-fest. "You were still a girl in high school, so they might freak out when they see you all handsome and stud like..." You raise a brow, hoping your attempt at humor will lighten the mood a little. You were old enough when he transitioned to still have some memories of him as your other mom. Plus, you were eleven; you totally understood these things. "Don't worry dad, I've got your back. If anyone tries to mess with you, I'll go all Brooklyn Heights on their as- I mean- butt."
You smirk at the chuckle that comes from behind you, choosing to ignore the 'look' your mother's giving you at your almost cursing. You know she's just as protective of your dad, and if not for the baby, would totally be on the front lines with you if someone started making fun of him. "Well, we're hoping it doesn't have to come to that, sweety. Though I know your dad appreciates you looking out for him." Your mom responds, having finished getting your brother ready and once more fussing with her bags. Your dad remains silent though, his hands still toying with your hair; your braid almost complete.
Once he's finished, you quickly pull yourself to your feet on the bed; turning and throwing your arms around him as you bury your face into his neck. "I love you daddy," you whisper, lifting your head and placing a kiss to his stubbly cheek. His eyes are red and puffy, clear signs that he's about to start crying. "Seriously, dad, it'll be okay. Just please don't cry on this dress. It's silk." You grin at the laugh that leaves his lips, resting your head on his shoulder as he tightens the embrace.
"I really hate to interrupt such a touching father, daughter moment, but if we don't leave soon, we're gonna be late." Your mom pipes up as she moves into your field of vision; bags over both shoulders with your brother perched precariously on her hip. You pull away first, pretending not to notice the tears that had made it onto your dress as you hop down off of the bed and begin to collect your things. "Honey, can you take him?" Your dad finishes wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt before taking your brother into his arms. Even though he's tiny, your mother isn't supposed to carry him while she's pregnant.
"Hey little man." He coos, brushing the boy's puffy hair down with his hand. With his hearing aids in, the boy's face lights up at his fathers voice, his lips smacking together in a string of incoherent babbles. "You don't say?" Your dad laughs, placing a half dozen kisses to your brother's face. You pause from packing up your purse to watch the two, unable to hold back a snort as William once more spits up, this time down the front of your dad's vest. "You goober. You totally did that on purpose, didn't you?" Your mom tosses a cloth to your dad, rolling her eyes as he attempts to keep the mess from getting onto his white shirt beneath.
"Are we ready?" She has her purse over her other shoulder with your dad's jacket over her arm. "I've got your wallet and the hotel keys as well as the ones to the rental..." She looks like she's going over a shopping list in her head, her eyes squeezed shut as she concentrates on not forgetting anything. You absently take a look into your small, matching handbag, making sure your phone, ipod and other necessities are still there, despite having only just packed them moments ago. "I guess that's everything." Your mom nods, satisfied that she hasn't forgotten anything.
"Alright, let's do this." Your dad's voice isn't shaky anymore as he glances down at you, his free hand reaching out to take yours. Beaming back at him, you wrap your hand around his as you both exit out into the hotel hallway, your mom following and locking the room behind.