A/N: Sorry about the delay. I was being particularly picky about when I would type all of this up. I'm going to start skipping handwriting one of these days.

Other stories: I have 32 handwritten pages dedicated to Gossip, Dirty Fingers and Perseverance. They haven't been forgotten; I just need to stop avoiding my computers.

Warning: Sap, Fluff, Smut and general vomit inducing Romanticism. I couldn't stop the story from writing itself…so brace yourself for all the sentimental crap.

Chapter 13

Christmas climbed to the top of Santana's priority list, sectionals breezing by with her first official solo and the subsequent tie. She wasn't proud of sharing a title, but they couldn't allow another failure like that at Regionals. School inched by as it usually did; forestalling any enthusiasm they had for the upcoming two week Christmas break. There would be no cheerleading practice, no classes and definitely no homework. She'd gone Christmas shopping online, happy that she wouldn't join the throngs of Lima citizens crowding the very small gallery mall; towing rowdy sticky children and bad attitudes. She was frugal by nature; opting to only buy her parents and Brittany gifts. She tossed around the idea of buying something for Rachel, but quickly decided that getting her a Christmas gift would be disrespectful to her religion.

Her parents however, were not religious at all. They treated Christmas like a commercial holiday, buying her anything she'd mentioned wanting throughout the year. Last year's Christmas gifts included her new car, a dirt bike to tag along to motocross practice with Brittany, and a new wardrobe; which was hilarious since she couldn't remember wearing anything other than her Cheerios uniform for the last three years. Her parents usually took the Christmas holiday off, and her mother would cook and Brittany would stop over before she stole Santana back to her house. She'd never admit it; but they usually played with the toys that Brittany's parents got her.

She knew things would be different this year. Brittany was planning on introducing Tiffany to her family, and they would probably welcome her to dinner and Santana would be left making cookies with her mother well into the night. She and Rachel had been spending a lot of time with the other couple, doing things Santana would normally never do in public. If you ever asked her; she would lie; but their "relationship" was starting to make her nervous. Santana was never in a position like the one she was currently in—the commitment, the expectations; everything was starting to grate down on her subconscious, and her diffidence had begun to whisper negative thoughts into her ear.

She never had to cope with the pressures of a relationship. It scared her shitless that she was in a monogamous…something with someone she made a point to put down in the name of reputation. She hated feeling like such an insecure little girl. She hated the vulnerabilities her relationship with Rachel was uncovering. She was starting to have doubts. It was a push and pull between too much and too fast; sometimes. She felt herself getting attached. But she couldn't stay away from the girl. She grappled with the conflicting feelings. Complete elation overtook her, happiness settling in the part of her chest under her ribcage thrumming against her breastbone; the burden of the possibilities settling uneasily on her worrying stomach. But she couldn't lie and say that she was also having a blast all the while. They never talked about their tomorrows. They hadn't discussed what would happen with what they had if it eventually came out; or after her surgery. They just were. It was liberating; it was terrifying.

She felt so naked.

They'd been spending all of their free time together, making excuses for it fell on the wayside. She was sincerely open in her feelings; yet so shockingly secret with her inner revelations.

She rolled her eyes at herself.

She was sitting in her computer chair, thumbing the small gold bracelet in her hand, the single microphone charm dangling daintily from it. She was always so frugal with her money. But she had purchased the jewelry with her hard earned money; as well as the novelty items on the screen in front of her. Money she made for reorganizing her father's patient files; money her mother paid her for cleaning the nurses break room at the hospital on nights she couldn't sleep. She knew Rachel didn't celebrate Christmas, but her birthday was coming up. And being the hormonal teenager she was, she was contemplating letting her do something she was finally sure she was ready to do. She stared at the computer screen, the shopping cart's two items sitting readily by the 'confirm' button. She submitted her purchase, shutting her laptop before putting the delicate charm bracelet back in its satin box, back into her computer desk drawer.

000 0000 000

Winter break was a few days away, anticipation slipping into her veins like the chill on Ohio. It was the night before Rachel's birthday, she'd be staying over since it was Friday, her fathers making her promise she'd be home by three the following day so she could celebrate with them. Santana had plans. She didn't realize when things like this had suddenly started to matter, but tonight was important. She was going to pick her up after her parents left for work, they were heading to dinner at the diner with Tiff and Britt, and they were all going ice skating afterward. Santana had her gift wrapped, the other box was under her bed, the UPS label showing right side up; left on her doorstep the day before.

Her parents were shuffling about the house, getting into the routine of preparing for a long night at work. Her mother was eating fruit on the couch, her father in his study going over patient files and follow up care forms. It was already six thirty, they'd be getting ready to leave soon, and she could drive over to pick up Tiffany and Britt, and swing to get Rachel. Her father stuck his head into her room; interrupting her overactive thoughts.

"Ana. I need to talk with you."

Her father wasn't a tall man. No higher than her mother's five feet eight inches; he rarely seemed to tower over her. He stood in her doorway; finally walking inside and quietly closing her door. He leaned on her bureau, his arms crossed amicably across his chest.

"I have been noticing you and Rachel have been around each other quite a lot."

"Yea so are me and Britt, what's the problem?"

"Look, Ana, a few things have changed quickly around here, and I've been getting this little feeling that some things are going on that you are keeping from us."

"Whatever, Pops, I don't have anything to hide."

"Ana don't lie to me. Look—things are different this time. You're surrounded by all these pretty girls and maybe your body is reacting to them; I'm worried that you are doing things irresponsibly and I don't—"

"Please don't give me the sex talk. I'm good."

Santana was sitting at her desk, her chair leaned back and her arms defensively over her chest. She was faintly aware of the pout puckering at her mouth.

"Ana… you sleep with this girl in your bed and you are trying to tell me that there isn't anything going on between the two of you? If I had sleepovers with girls at your age I know damn well we wouldn't be sleeping."

She rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head negatively at his accusations; avoiding his chocolate brown eyes as they knocked down all of her defense mechanisms.

"Ana, I'm not mad. I'm not going to take away your car and make you stay in the house. But what you're doing isn't right. There are rules set and you are disregarding them and expecting me and your mother not to notice. We let things slide with Brittany. You couldn't have sex with Brittany. Well—not that kind—I mean what I'm trying to say is…"

He pinches his nose, standing straighter in his position he hiked up his pants before sitting down on her bed.

"We don't invade on your privacy, Ana. Marian doesn't tell us about your sessions, we don't question what you don't tell us. We only know what's going on from what we see. We like Rachel a lot Ana. But if you are having sex in my house I will seriously be offended. Don't lie to me Ana."

He had a way of pouring sympathy into his words like warm tea on a chest cold. His wooly eyebrows tilted toward his scalp as he asked her questions with his now open palms. All of the air blew out of her cheeks. She wiped her face with her hands, leaning her elbows on her kneecaps before settling her chin on her palm as she looked up at her father.

"Fine. We had sex. So what? Dad, I'm sixteen. I like her. She likes me."

"Ana if you're gay that's fine. But you are disrespecting my rules, and you are betraying my trust. If you would have brought a boy here I would have treated him like I treated Noah. I trust your judgment- I would expect that we meet him, and that you let us get to know him. Have the respect to obey the rules I set in this house, Santana. Your condition makes this different. You can't keep blurring these lines to your advantage. I'm disappointed in your behavior, Ana, and I hope you understand why."

Her father stood again, towering over her authoritatively. He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels as he looked behind her out her window.

"So…how was it? Do you have any questions? Are you curious about anything I can clear up?"

Santana laughed.

"This is totally inappropriate."

Her father smiled, ruffling her hair out of place before sitting back on the bed. He clapped his hands together before combing his fingers through his goatee, presumably wiping away imaginary crumbs.

"So. Are you thinking about what this means for your surgery?"

"No. What does it mean? Nothing's changed."

"Yea it has, Ana. Are you sure you're ready for it all? You know with all the new discoveries you've made?"

Santana rolled her eyes.

"If this is a father son moment I'm seriously divorcing this family."

Her father chuckled.

"No, I only have a daughter. She just happens to be a stud."

She smiled.

"Honestly, Pops, I don't know. I'm not too peachy with knives and stitches. I'm a little nervous. But I still feel the way I do."

"You know if you leave everything as is, you can define yourself."

She closed her mouth, her tongue suddenly dry against the roof of her mouth.

"Ana, it's okay to change your mind. No one will judge you for it."

"I know, Daddy."

She was playing with her fingers, wringing them against each other as she pulled at her messy thoughts.

"No one's rushing. But Ana…I hope you know that your mother and I are going to talk to the Berrys about what's been going on… We are responsible for their daughter just as much as we are of you when she is here."

She was horrified. She looked at her father, the stern look on his face shutting down any of her quick quips. She shook her head.

"Fine. But can it wait until Sunday, tomorrow's her birthday."

Her father rolled his eyes.

"This will be the last time she stays over for a while, Ana. Make it worth it."

Her father kissed her forehead, leaving her room as he sat on the couch with her mother, propping his arm around her shoulders and stealing all the grapes out of her bowl.

000 0000 000

They were at the rink, Tiffany and Brittany gliding along together across the ice, free flowing together as they played around with dismounting tricks, their balance impeccable. Rachel and Santana were sitting on the benches, breaking for hot cocoa with their skates off. She felt like such a wreck. She was twirling the box in her coat pocket, toying with the idea of giving it to her in public. She pulled it out abruptly, awkwardly halting their conversation to draw attention to the velvety black box she was pushing into the other girls lap. Rachel put her cup down, staring at the box curiously, slowly taking it from her and snapping it open, playing with the bracelet in her hands. She undid the latch, pulling Santana's hands to clasp it back together around her wrist. She holds her arm in front of her, staring at the tiny charm; beaming. She shot into her arms.

There were no words exchanged, they changed into their shoes and called Britt and Tiff and all drove to music in the car, Brittany bouncing in the back seat until they dropped them both off at Tiffany's house. The drive to Santana's house was loud, midnight rolled around to a screaming rendition of happy birthday as they pulled into Santana's driveway. They went straight to her bed room, crawling out of their cold clothes and digging into the warm blankets in their underwear. They stayed quiet, listening to the contented air between them. Rachel was on Santana's chest, soothed by the calm rise and fall of her breaths, the ice from outside oozing to the tips of their toes and dissipating beneath the blankets.

Rachel kissed her first, grabbing her face and stealing her air as she rubbed her fingertips through her scalp. They were a bundle of frustrated energy, hands pulling at body parts and flesh smashing together like magnets. Santana sat up, pulling away from her and stopping their embrace.

"I want to lose my v-card to you."

Rachel was confused. Santana climbed off the bed, sliding the box from under her bed and opening the flaps. She pulled it from the box, holding it up curiously in front of Rachel, somewhat nervous about her reaction.

"I got it online. It's about the same size as mine is…"

Rachel bit her lip. She got out of the bed to stand in front of Santana. She bent down in front of Rachel, holding the harness off the floor for her to step into. She tugged it up her hips, her chest rising a little faster than before, secretly anxious as she tightened the straps around Rachel's thighs. Rachel cupped her face after the last of their adjustments, kissing her lips softly as she lowered them both onto the bed.

000 0000 000

Rachel was buzzing. She'd done her research; she was going to broach the subject with Santana as soon as she could fit in the subject matter. If she did anything, she always did it well prepared. She was kissing her, puckering her lips against Santana's skin, working the kinks out of her coiled body. Rachel worked her, rubbing her hardening penis as she rolled her tongue into her moist sex. She tugged the tip of her tongue up her shaft, rolling the head of Santana's penis into her mouth and swallowing her whole.

Santana was trying to keep her mouth closed, following the bob of Rachel's head with low lit eyes, enjoying the sensation but aching for release. Rachel climbed up the sheets; seemingly floating above her- the tip of the dong attached to the strap-on harness pressing against her opening. Rachel disappeared from her line of vision, leaning on her knees to see what she was doing, She lined the toy with Santana's opening, grabbing the base of her hard penis before leaning into her, pushing into her. Santana could only release the air from her constricted lungs, letting her eyes roll closed as Rachel inched inside her, the feeling of something invading her body for the first time overwhelming her senses. She felt something inside her give way, tears pinching at the corners of her eyes as they slipped down her cheeks, Rachel staring down and what was happening before her, her hand slowly stroking her still erect penis, the sensation of pleasure distracting Santana long enough to let out a low, guttural grunt. Rachel started moving. The shaky rhythm was uncomfortable, the pressure of her core thumping in acknowledgement, her burning flesh forcing winced hisses from her mouth.

Rachel slowed her movements, lifting both of Santana's lithe legs up to her slender shoulders, her head tucked between her calves, her arm holding her knees straight, the dong still inside her. Her other hand was reaching around the other side of her legs, wrapping again around her somewhat softer penis. She rolled her hips slowly, the harness of the strap on tapping against her clit as she made contact with Santana's hips. Pulling out she stroked her penis again, rolling her thumb over the leaking head of it and experimentally bringing it to her mouth, sticking her tongue out to taste Santana's anticipation. Santana's body relaxed, softening and heavy against Rachel's slowly moving body. She was finding her rhythm now, thrusting into her and knowing it was pleasurable when the harness stroked her own clit, working moans past her tight lipped mouth, bunched in concentration.

Santana was holding her hand out, shorting the depth of Rachel's thrusts. Rachel was aiming higher, rolling her hips and slamming into a part of Santana that felt like she was ticlking the base of her penis from the inside, the raging hard-on pointing heady accusations into Rachel's still moving hand. Santana was whimpering between breaths, the low noises falling from her mouth coinciding with the sounds the impact of their bodies made together. The rhythm was reality shattering—Santana closing her eyes and relishing the feeling of the poly-arousal, the sounds of Rachel's grunts so unladylike as she rolled into her, sweat furrowing her brow as her clit rubbed against the back pad of the harness, the dong double tapping the swollen nub and sending her over the edge. She rode out her orgasm inside of Santana, trying to stop her hips from shaking as she came, trying not to slam into Santana mercilessly. She caught her breath, resuming the up and down pressure she was applying to Santana's throbbing penis, stroking into her now wet sex.

Santana was overwhelmed with every feeling imaginable. Rachel was touching her in ways her mind couldn't quite process and she was coming undone. The pain was quickly forgotten, soreness rubbing into her tired legs as Rachel worked on reaching Santana's orgasm. She hadn't ever really thought about the reality of the moment, Rachel above her wanton with power, raging inside of her and working her hard penis. The image was sexy; it was unforgettable. She could feel herself squeezing the strap-on, clenching around it as her stomach tightened from the release she felt pushing up the shaft of her penis. She wanted to stop; if only for the reason that she didn't know if she could survive such a powerful current pulsing out of her pores.. She felt herself contracting; her walls fluttering wildly around the stilled toy inside her, erupting as Rachel's hand caught the remnants of her climax on her sullied fingers, getting up and wiping the clear fluid on the tissues Santana kept on her vanity. Rachel loosened the straps of the harness, letting it fall to the floor of Santana's bedroom. She did away with it in the cardboard box, noticing that she would have to clean it the following morning, too spent to worry about it then. She climbed into the bed with Santana, wrapping her around her and drifting off to sleep.

000 0000 000

Santana had managed to wake before her parents came home the following morning to clean. Well, that was her plan. She woke up aching, her inner thighs burning with each step she took toward the bathroom. After running a bath she eased into the tub, she could hear Rachel pulling the sheets off her bed and coming into the bathroom momentarily to wash off the remnants of the night before.

Santana emerged shortly after, noticing that most of the room was cleaned already, their clothes from the night before bent awkwardly over the back of her computer chair. She dressed, sitting down at the vanity; she tried to brush the curls from her wet hair, opting to turn her blow dryer on while Rachel showered noisily in the adjacent room.

They ate breakfast with her parents, saying goodbyes as Santana drove the familiar way to Rachel's house.

"My Dad's going to come over tomorrow to tell your Dads about us."

It was quiet.

"How did he find out?"

"He just knew."

Rachel stared out of the window, frowning.

"Fine."

They said nothing else in the car, wondering all too suddenly about their unspoken tomorrow.

000 0000 000

Rachel had conned her fathers out of going to therapy, so Santana finished out her morning doing homework for the upcoming break; that she wouldn't be doing when she was actually breaking from school. Her appointment rolled around and she sat in front of Marian, filing her fingernails and shifting from soreness in her seat. It would be a long session; especially when all she could think about was what was going to happen the following morning.

000 0000 000

This would have been around 20 pages in word had I continued to type it. So instead of posting this epic chapter all tonight, I am cutting it in half so that the next chapter focuses on Rachel's parents finding out, Finn pushing back into the picture, surgery conclusions and hopefully some angst.

Please review.