Brittany's life after the party fell into an easy rhythm, her only regret being not having enough courage to tell the latina how she felt. It's not that she didn't try, but every time she tried she just found herself getting lost in Santana's eyes and then losing her nerve as she didn't want to mess up the relationship they had by adding feelings in to it. Yeah, she was being a coward.

But deep down, she knew that their relationship was not just story anymore. Slowly, but surely it was becoming a reality for both of them. She and Santana were starting to act like a real married couple, even without an audience. At six they'd jog, Brittany eventually building up enough stamina to keep running for the whole hour. Then they'd have breakfast, and Santana would work on her book, and Brittany would go back to bed, crawling into the rumpled sheets with a pleasure that was almost sexual. And every day at nine, Santana would get ready for work and kiss Brittany on her forehead while the blonde sleepily mumble good bye to her missing the look of pure love on the latina's face. And after she leaves, Brittany got up again every day at noon and worked on the house, painting secret things in the garlands on the walls and furniture that first appalled and then amused Santana. They eat dinner together every night, talking about her paintings of driven women and Santana's book of rebellious women. It was Brittany's favorite part of the day, and she thought it might be Santana's too, because the latina was never late and she had a smile on her face throughout the whole dinner, even laughing out loud at some of the things the blonde said. Brittany loved hearing her laugh. She even made up random stories to tell Santana in a funny accent just to hear the latina laugh.

After dinner they would sit together on the couch watching whatever was on TV while Jupiter tried to grab Santana's attention away from Brittany. Some nights they end up cuddling on the couch and Brittany would fall asleep in Santana's arms. Santana cherished those moments when the blonde's in her arms. Holding Brittany was the best feeling for the latina. She was so in love with the girl that it physically hurt her to hide her feelings. But she knew that Brittany could never be happy with her. She was pure and bright and Santana was cold and grumpy. Brittany was better than her and deserved better. But there were moments that the blonde looked at her like she was the best thing she has ever seen. But Santana knew that, that was just wishful thinking.

Brittany was having the same fears as the latina. Most nights when they were on the couch she'd pretend to be asleep so that the latina would hold her and then carry her to bed and tuck her in. She loved Santana with all her heart but she was scared that Santana wouldn't feel the same way. She loved all the moments they spent together. She loved the honest excitement Santana showed whenever she was telling her stories or about her paintings. Santana even wanted one of her paintings to use as a cover art for her next book.

"That's amazing," Santana said when the blonde showed it to her in November. "That's my book. If I sell this book, maybe we could use it for the cover design. Would you mind?"

And Brittany had shook her head no because she was too happy to talk.

"I like your other stuff too," she told Brittany before hugging the blonde as a sign of gratitude, "but this is something different. You're really growing here."

I am, Brittany thought. Not enough yet, she still wasn't where she should be, but this painting was stronger than her earlier work. The deal was working.

Except I want it all, she told herself. I love the intellectual stuff we have, but I want the physical stuff too.

Maybe one night when they were talking, arguing passionately about some idea, she could just lean over and kiss the girl. She tried to tell herself the story, how Santana would sweep her into her strong arms and say, "My God, how could I have been so blind?" but it wouldn't come out true somehow. That wasn't Santana. She'd be embarrassed and pull back and she'd take her meals on a tray to her study and probably sleep there too, and Brittany would lose the wonderful conversations and the all the little moments she counted on. It was the first time she couldn't make a story come out right, and it rattled her a little.

You have more right now than most women have ever dreamed of, she told herself. Don't get greedy.

They were building a life together and both of them were starting lose their grips on the story. Not just by falling in love with each other, but the way they were starting to interact with the outside world as well. Their marriage was slowly becoming a reality for both of them. For Santana, the realization came gradually, built up in short encounters like the day she answered the front door to find a little old lady dressed in three different brightly colored cardigans and a lime green skirt. She handed her a pie and said, "This is for Brittany. You must be Santana. You have a lovely wife." She beamed at the confused latina. "Reminds me of myself when I was young."

She dresses like you too, Santana thought, but she couldn't help but smile at the friendly woman, regardless of not knowing who she was.

"Thank you, Mrs.—uh…"

"Hudson. You tell Brittany I said thank you."

"I certainly will."

She said good bye to the friendly woman after accepting her dinner invitation and smiled to herself and took the pie into the kitchen and put it on the counter in front of Brittany.

"Britt, who's Mrs. Hudson?"

"Our next door neighbor on the right. She's very nice. I helped her with her lawn mower yesterday. She said she was going to make us a rhubarb pie."

She's so nice, Santana thought, but she didn't say anything and Brittany went on. "Mr. Carter lives on our other side. He used to teach romance languages at the college before he retired. He said we needed to put potassium on our dogwood or it won't bloom. And Dr. Banks lives across the street. He helped me catch Annie when she got out the other day. Next to him is…"

"Britt?" Santana smiled while trying to get the girl to breath but Brittany misinterpreted the interruption as the latina saying Please don't let people know how weird you are, and flushed.

"I know. I'm supposed to lie low. But these are our neighbors. We have to be neighborly."

Santana smiled back at her warmly.

"No Britt. That's ok. I like it that you're so friendly. Besides telling you not to be neighborly is like telling Jupiter not to get fleas. Jupiter and his mommy just naturally attracted other living things."

She laughed out loud when Brittany swatted her with a towel and chased her out of the kitchen.

And these incidents kept happening. Evan came to her at school and asked if it was all right that he was dropping by the yellow house three or four times a week in the afternoon. He assured Santana his attentions were honorable, and Santana nodded, bemused by the thought of Evan seducing Brittany. Harper mentioned that Julie sure enjoyed having lunch with Brittany every day, and shortly after that Grey told her that Lacey was coming over in the afternoons to help Brittany paint ivy leaves in the bathroom so she could learn to do them in her dining room. "Do I want ivy in my dining room?" Grey asked her, and Santana said, "If Lacey wants it there, do you have a choice?"

She'd also lost her grip on keeping her professional and personal lives separate. Brittany pouted once and she agreed to bring her tutorial students home to work in the dining room like the other professors did. Although after the tight hug that she received from the blonde after agreeing was more than enough compensation for her. After that, students regularly stopped by and used the dining room as a study table, checking out the cookie jar to see if Brittany had felt like baking, baking themselves if she hadn't. Santana worried that they'd bother her, cut into her painting time, but Brittany told her that she liked them, and that they were very respectful of her work.

Olivia, one of the students, told Santana, "You think they're just pretty pictures, but they have whole lives in them, wonderful lives of weird women who do something strong and important and dangerous. And they're always true." She'd stopped for a moment and then said, "You've probably already noticed this, but they're all like Brittany."

"I hadn't noticed," Santana had said a little stiffly. There was something so intimate about Brittany's painting that discussing it with a student seemed wrong, invasive, personal, and Olivia had looked at her sadly before she went back to the study table.

Even though she was aware of what was going on, Santana didn't realize the extent to which her house and her wife had become part of the fabric of Prescott, until a phone call sent her home unexpectedly one Tuesday in late November.

First, She met Julie coming out the door.

"Hello, darling." Julie hugged her and then stepped aside so she could get through the front door. "Brittany's with Lacey upstairs painting the bathroom."

Santana knew there was something different about Julie, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She watched her walk out to the sidewalk and realized she wasn't swaying. Julie wasn't drunk. It was the first time she'd seen Julie completely sober. She knew it was Brittany's effect.

How does she make everyone better?

She shook her head and went inside.

Two of her students, Olivia and Larry, were working over their notes on World War II at the dining room table while Charity sprawled across Olivia's lap and Annie batted at Larry's pen. She started to tell Annie to get off the table, but Andrew, another student, came out of the kitchen with a bowl.

"Decide now. Nuts in the chocolate chips or not?"

"Nuts," said a voice from the living room, and she turned to see Tracy, yet another student, lying on the couch with Jupiter on his back on top of her. She was scratching his stomach slowly, and Jupiter looked as if he were in ecstasy.

"You'll probably break a tooth." Evan came out of the kitchen behind Andrew, holding an apple. "Shell pieces. There's always a risk."

There were too many people in her house. Santana looked around a little frantically. "Is Brittany here?"

"Upstairs with Lacey in the bathroom." Olivia waved her hand toward the stairs. "They're finishing the ivy today. It looks super."

"She's going to do the kitchen in trompe l'oeil." Tracy sat up. "She said she'd teach me."

"Have you seen her last painting?" Evan asked her. "It's Sanger. Brittany's really got something. Of course, it will never be recognized. I tried to get her a gallery show, but Bill's booked through next year." He bit into the apple. "Probably covered with chemicals." He wandered out the front door.

Santana watched him go before she turned back to Tracy. "There are a lot of people here. Is it always like this?"

"Pretty much." Tracy lay back down, much to Jupiter's delight. "That's why we call it the Hive."

"The Hive?"

"Little yellow house, always busy. The Hive."

"Nothing about Killer Bees3" Santana asked suspiciously.

"No." Larry looked up from his notes. "Are there any?"

"No." Santana went upstairs to find Brittany.

"You're much better at this than I am," Brittany was saying to Lacey when she reached the bathroom.

"I like this." Lacey gazed at the wall with satisfaction. "Teach me to paint something else."

"Like what?" Brittany put her brush to soak. "We're almost finished in here."

"Roses, daffodils, tulips, irises…"

"Not in here," Santana said from the doorway. "Have a heart Britt. I brush my teeth in here. I have hangovers in here."

"Well, hi baby. When did you get home?" Brittany smiled up at her, and for some reason she forgot to breath And she also forgot all her stress and tension of having too many people in her house. And if Brittany wanted to she could paint a whole damn forest in the bathroom as long as she smiled at her like that.

Brittany stood up and walked toward the latina and hugged her. They forgot everyone around them and got lost in each other. Santana kissed her cheek as they separated. Brittany didn't want to lose all physical contact from the latina so she held her hand and stood close and said,

"What brings you home this early, San?"

Then she remembered her mother's call and her stress levels rose again. "My mother called." Brittany noticed the worried look.

"Oh, dear," Brittany said.

"Don't mind me," Lacey said. "You go talk. I'll stay here and finish the painting."

They went into the bedroom and sat on the bed and Santana thought for a moment about how great it would be if they were alone and she could just have her arms around Brittany and cuddle on the bed like they usually do. It would be such a comfort, such a distraction from all her problems.

"There are a lot of people here, Britt" Santana said. "How can you stand this?"

Brittany blinked at her, surprised. "Stand what? They leave me alone. If I go in the studio, nobody bothers me. They answer the phone and take messages and since they've been here, Harper doesn't stop by in the afternoons."

Santana's grip on her hand tightened. "What?"

"He used to come by and ring the doorbell, and I'd just stay inside and wait until he went away. When the kids started coming over, he gave up."

Santana looked murderous. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

Brittany shrugged. "What could you have done San?"

"What I should have done the first day. I should have told him I'd break his fingers if he ever touched you."

Brittany laughed a soft little chuckle. She loved Santana's tough act.

"Did you ever actually break anyone's fingers?"

Santana's annoyance faded with her chuckle. "No, but as your sister from New Jersey, I figure Harper's the place to start."

"You're not my sister, San." Brittany looked at her. Santana's eyes met hers and the blonde felt herself shiver at the look in Santana's eyes.

Brittany swallowed and said, "So, um what did your mother want?"

"Oh, Lord." Santana put her head on Brittany's shoulder. "I forgot. She's coming to stay. She'll be at Mike's for Christmas, so she's coming to stay with us for the first week in December. That's next week."

"Oh." Brittany smiled brightly. "That will be nice. Get a room at the inn."

Santana patted her hand, knowing she was going to hate the next part. "There are none. I tried. It's Winter Fest on campus. And I think she wants to stay here anyway."

"Oh."

"It's just for a week," Santana said lamely, knowing that a week with her mother would be hell.

Brittany nodded, her head a little wobbly on her neck. "We'll be fine San. Really. We will. She can have the guest room, I'll finish it up tomorrow. No big deal. And she'll get along great with Evan; he never smiles either. By the way, Evan is coming here for Christmas Eve."

Santana's visions of Christmas as just another great dinner for two with Brittany disappeared. "Why?"

"Because he's not going home, and because Quinn will be here." Brittany grinned.

"Which is why he's not going home. And I asked Sam too, and Evan introduced me to Bill from the gallery and he's nice and alone, and things were getting so big that I asked the Harpers and the Greys too. It will be cozy. Pansy will be in the Bahamas, but maybe your mother will stay."

Oh, yes, her mother introduced into that group was all they'd need to make the holidays perfect. "Maybe she won't." Wait, did she say Sam?

"Stan is gonna be here?" Brittany could hear the distaste in her voice. She knew Santana was jealous of Sam, which was why she invited the vet, for the most part.

"It's Sam. And yes. He takes such good care of my dog and pussies." Santana nearly choked at that. Brittany smirked. If she won't tell me how she feels, maybe I can force it out.

"What?"

"Jupiter and the cats, San"

"Oh ok. Well whatever you want, I guess" She sounded so gloomy that Brittany felt her heart hurt for the girl. Maybe I shouldn't have done that.

"Are you not ok with this? Because I can cancel the dinner and we can just have dinner together, the three of us"

"No Britt. It's ok" Santana straightened up. "It's just not what I had planned."

"I know. I was supposed to lay low and stay away from people. But that's hard for me."

Santana smiled at her. "I know Britt." she put her arm around the blonde and pulled her close in a semi-hug, and Brittany rested her head on the latina's shoulder. It was a little awkward, as she was taller than Santana but it felt so good, she closed her eyes. "But you know Britt, we've been married for only three months. Is there anyone in town who doesn't know you by your first name?"

Brittany nodded lazily, feeling at peace with Santana's arm around her. "Lots. I spend most of my time here, painting. I've gotten so much done, Santana. Really good work, because I haven't worried about money or anything. This is all because of you." She kissed her on the cheek. "This is great."

Santana froze for a moment and then tightened her arm around her, making Brittany wrap her arm around her waist, bringing them even closer together.

"My book's done."

"What? You're kidding!"

"Nope." She grinned like a little kid. "I have to edit it and smooth things out a little, but essentially, it's done. And that's not all. I've got a publisher."

Brittany shrieked and hugged her, and she laughed. The force of the hug made them fall into a lying position with Brittany on top of the latina. She moved off the smaller girl but cuddled in to her side and rested her head on Santana's chest. Santana wrapped her arm around the blonde and smiled down at her.

"A publisher." Brittany glowed at her. "Imagine. Just like that."

"Just like that, hell." Santana tried to frown at her wife but she could see the delight still bubbling underneath those baby blues.

"I submitted the damn thing eight places in the past year before I got anyone to look at it."

Brittany was incredulous. Santana was one of the most brilliant people she'd ever known, not to mention a great writer with a great subject.

"Eight places turned you down?"

Santana laughed and tightened her hold.

"You know, you're good for my ego, kid. Stick around."

Brittany got distracted by the latina's laugh, but the enormity of what she'd said came back. "But wasn't it awful? Eight times?"

"Well, it wasn't fun. But that's the way it goes Britt."

Brittany felt immense pride at her wife's determination. Santana had kept going after eight rejections. She'd given up after one, after Bill, who'd become a friend, told her that he already had his shows booked. She hadn't even checked with other galleries in other cities. "You know, I'm proud of you San," she told her..

"Thanks britt, You made it easier for me to work on my book. I couldn't have done it without you." Santana stared at her affectionately. "This is one terrific deal, huh."

I can think of some things that would make it more terrific, Brittany thought, but all she said was "And we've got six months left to go before the deal's over. Think of all the things we can get done. You can write another book."

Santana felt her heart drop at that. Six months and then the blonde will be gone. She looked away from Brittany. "Let me get this one done first." She stood up making Brittany frown. "Mother will be driving down next week. Do you need me to do anything?"

"No." Brittany felt cold as she moved away. It had been nice cuddling with Santana. She felt her heart sting when Santana refused to look at her.

"Just be home for dinner and the evenings; I'll fake the days. Maybe she naps."

"I doubt it. I don't think she sleeps." And with that Santana left the room, making Brittany stare after her sadly.

Santana's mother drove in the next week, and Brittany went out to the car to help her with her bag. "How was your drive?" She moved to take Gertrude's suitcase. "You must be exhausted."

Gertrude gave up her suitcase without a fight. "Yes."

Brittany looked at her closely. She was even paler than usual. "Hot tea." Brittany put her arm around Gertrude and led her into the house. "And a nap. We'll have dinner at home tonight, just the three of us. You can relax."

Gertrude nodded and followed Brittany up the stairs to guest bedroom. Brittany let her settle and turned back and left her to go make tea.

When Brittany came back, Gertrude was in bed looking shockingly frail. Gertrude had always been such an overwhelming presence that she'd seemed massive. Now she looked translucent and brittle, like very old, very thin china.

"Let me put some pillows behind you." Brittany supported her firmly with her arm while she stacked the pillows behind the older woman. "I've brought you tea and some cookies that one of Santana's students baked."

"Thank you." Gertrude's voice was faint, and Brittany was really alarmed. She ran downstairs and called the doctor who lived across the street.

"This is Brittany Lopez. It's my mother-in-law. She's really ill and I don't think she can make it across the street. It's either you or the rescue squad."

"I'll come," Dr. Hummel said. "The rescue squad makes too much noise."

Half an hour later he came downstairs. "Flu."

Brittany felt her own stomach heave at the thought. "Flu?"

"She'll be sick for about a week. This is that nasty strain they've got up north. And we want to keep it up north. This place is in quarantine."

Quarantine. With Gertrude. And Santana. Oh, God. "Can Santana go to work?"

"Only if she promises not to breathe on the students. You keep the students out, understand?"

Brittany nodded. The last thing she needed was a lot of people while she coped with Gertrude, a woman she was fairly certain saw illness as something only weaker people encountered. "I understand. What about Gertrude? What do I do?"

"Keep her warm and give her plenty of liquids. She should be through this by Friday."

"Great." Brittany sighed. "Thank you. I know you don't make house calls, so I really appreciate this."

"Across the street isn't a house call." He looked around at Brittany's painted walls. "Besides, it's a nice house."

I'm going to miss living here, she thought as she watched him cross the street. Such nice people. Such a nice town. Such a nice house.

She wrote a sign that said Flu Quarantine and taped it to the front door and then went to make vegetable soup. Vegetable soup had a lot of liquid in it.

"Is that a joke?" Santana gestured to the sign as she came through the front door, and kissed Brittany's cheek, and Brittany flapped her hand at the latina to shush her.

"Shhh. Your mother's upstairs, and she's really sick. You can go up and sit with her after dinner."

"Do I have to?" Santana asked appalled.

"Yes, Santana." Brittany restrained herself from saying something exasperated. "You have to."

After dinner that night, Santana reluctantly climbed the stairs.

"Read her this." Brittany shoved a book into her hands as she went up, and she carried it with her when she went in to see her mother.

Santana was as shocked as Brittany had been at the change in her. She looked old and fragile, not the Iron Mother she'd grown up with. "Hi Mom," she said softly. "Brittany sent me up to read to you. Would you like that or would you rather just sleep?"

"I would like a little reading." Gertrude tried to focus on her.

"I have been sleeping all day. And the dinner was very good. Real homemade soup." She sighed a little. "Brittany is a good girl."

"Yes, she is." The thought of the girl made Santana smile. It was unlike her mother to be so mellow, and it made Santana nervous. She sat next to her mother on the bed.

"Let's see what she's given us to read." Santana opened the book and then laughed.

"What is it?"

" 'There was a man in the land of Uz, whose name was Job; and that man was blameless and upright,' " Santana began. She looked over at her mother, who was blameless and upright, and Gertrude smiled weakly and she smiled back, and for one moment she felt united with her mom in affection for Brittany.

"This is good." Gertrude relaxed into her pillow. "I feel better. The boils, I have not got yet."

" 'He feared God and turned away from evil,' " Santana read on, and her mother closed her eyes, and when she glanced over as she read, Gertrude was smiling slightly, and she looked comforted. God bless Brittany, Santana thought, and read on.

Later that evening, after Brittany had checked on Gertrude and given her aspirin for her fever, she went into their bedroom. Santana was still reading the Bible.

"Job." She shook her head. "I would never have thought of it, but she liked it." she looked over at Brittany, smiling. "She really liked it."

"I love it."

Santana watched as Brittany changed her clothes with her back to her. The blonde looked so innocent in her yellow night shirt with ducks on them. She switched off the main lights and joined her wife on the bed. Santana lifted the covers for her and she smiled at the latina gratefully and she went on.

"Job's wonderful, although not the arguing bits. The good stuffs the part where God rips a strip off Job for whining. Here." She took the book from her and flipped forward a few pages. "Chapter Thirty-eight. 'Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements—surely you know!' I love that bit, God getting sarcastic. 'Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone, when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.' "

Brittany put the book down on her lap and stared into space, a delighted smile on her face. "Except I see the daughters of God shouting too. All the people together, shouting for joy, and the morning stars singing." She closed the book and leaned her head on Santana's shoulder, while wrapping her arm around the latina's stomach. "Our church was gray stone on the inside and it was so beautiful. The sun would come through the stained glass windows and warm the wooden pews, and our minister would read this stuff and I'd feel so safe." She lifted her head and looked into the brown eyes. "I never felt that safe again until I moved in with you. Thank you, San."

Santana was speechless. The combined effects of her mother, frail and ill and needing her, and Brittany, warm and healthy and trusting her, left her dizzy. Stay with me forever, Britt, she wanted to say. Be my wife. Then the room started to spin around and she realized she wasn't breathing. She drew in a deep breath and smiled down at the blonde and took the book from her.

"I like keeping you safe Britt. What's your favorite book?"

"Ecclesiastes. Song of Songs. Esther. Peter Pan. Ruth." She snuggled more into her. "Different things for different moods." She yawned. "If you hear me get up later, I'm just checking on your mom. Don't worry."

She closed her eyes, and Santana looked down at her pale face framed by the golden hair. She was so sweet and warm, and Santana loved her so much.

Stop it Lopez. Maybe I love her like a sister, she told herself. Except that I want her too. Evil thoughts for a woman with a Bible on her hands.

She flipped through the pages until she chanced into the middle of Song of Songs and read, "I come to my garden, my sister, my bride," and thought, huh, everything really is in the Bible. Then she went back to the beginning and read, "Oh that you would kiss me with the kisses of your mouth! For your love is better than wine."

That's it, she thought, and put the book on her bedside table. Enough Bible. Then she turned out the light and wrapped her arm around the blonde's waist, bringing her closer and fell asleep, losing herself to everything Brittany.

A/N

So, I hope you guys like it. It's a long one. Next one should be up in a couple of days. R&R guys..xo