Author's note: Dear anonymous reviewer named "Anne",
Thank you so very much for your highly-trivializing, yet not-at-all-constructive, critique of Her Smile Heals Me. I found it to be thoroughly-calculated and ever so edifying. No element of my story or my ability as a writer was left unscathed. Brava!
I would, however, like to take this opportunity (since this is my story, and I can feel free to do so) to respond. Hopefully, my other readers will either skip over this or indulge me a moment, seeing that our dearest "Anne" chose to hide behind an anonymous signature when leaving such a meticulous, albeit caustic, review.
Firstly, I, like you, have always found it to be true that, should you have nothing positive to say, be sure to say it boldly and at length. Therefore, I completely understand your motivation for leaving your review. Secondly, I, too, despise reading about people who are not exactly like me. Stretching my imagination and exposure about the world around me becomes so tiresome after multiple chapters.
It is nearly inconceivable, is it not, that four lesbians and one bi-sexual would befriend each other within the confines of a single town? I mean, let us get true to life for a brief moment here. Whenever my best friend and her partner meet up with me and my female date for a movie, that is only four lesbians, but no bi-sexual, who are present. Your keen eye saw through my plot-hole, so thank you for taking the time to point it out to other readers. Further, I will be sure to ask my best friend to leave her partner at home the next time we hang out socially, since, as you astutely pointed out, that is just too many lesbians.
Thirdly, I want to applaud you for reading all twenty chapters of my story before realizing you did not want to read about a rape story-line that was established in chapter one, and you are correct, "Anne", rape is very sad. Depression is very sad too. Having homophobic parents is truly sad. Grappling with one's sexuality is stressful and sad. Suicide is also very sad. Struggling with vices such as smoking, drinking, and drug abuse is also quite sad. Is it not wonderful that there are none of those silly issues to be dealt with in real life?
Fourthly, I am indebted to you for forging ahead through all the gloom and depravity present in Her Smile Heals Me so that you would have the information you needed to sensibly point out that there was too much sex in my story. Readers, please pause a moment to thank "Anne" for reminding us that girls who have sex five times in sixty days is excessive. This is 2012 remember, not the 1960s. We're past the age of free love so there are societal expectations for proper sexual behavior and limitations. Oh, and on that note, please allow me to remind each and every one of you to always practice safe sex: at home…alone…but not more than three times a month.
So, in conclusion, dearest "Anne", I truly appreciate your attempt to trudge through a story you clearly had a problem with from the beginning. Reader dedication such as yours is respectable, and surrendering another few minutes of your life in order to leave a snarky, anonymous review is inspiring. I am so glad to know the ten months of my life which I have dedicated to writing Her Smile Heals Me has not been in vain. However, I do apologize for offending your sensibilities. Since I am not in a position to refund your money, being that you read my story free of charge, please allow me to offer this helpful hint for your future reading enjoyment: M stands for Mature. There are plenty of fanfictions available for your reading satisfaction which bear lower ratings such as T for Teen or K for People Like "Anne". I would suggest you stick with those stories next time. Warning: there may be lesbians involved, since Santana is a lesbian. Hopefully though, those authors have a much better handle on the proper number of lesbians to be included in one story. Again, I apologize for that creativity infraction.
I will be rather pleased if you venture back to this update to read this response to you. Should you have other comments or instructions on writing to offer me, I will certainly be elated to read them, if only for the entertainment value. However, if you never read this, so be it, I will be equally-elated to know that you will continue through life as surely the most dull, judgmental, sexually- disadvantaged reader I have ever had. :)
Rainbows, unicorns, and an excessive amount of sweet-lady kisses,
Kim (mamatots)
Her Smile Heals Me (part 22)
Rachel Berry rolled over in bed, waking slightly when her right arm didn't move with the rest of her body, flopping heavily from numbness. She woke even more when she heard what sounded like soft crying coming from the lump in the covers next to her. It took a moment for her senses to return enough to remember the emotional pandemonium from a few hours earlier then another moment to remember the fact that Quinn Fabray lay next to her in bed.
Her voice thick with fresh sleep, Rachel acknowledged the blonde next to her, "Quinn?"
Rachel heard sniffs in the dark but no verbal response, so she reached a hand out to place on Quinn's shoulder, asking her, "Are you okay?"
Quinn answered with a shaky voice, "Yeah…sorry if I woke you."
"You didn't…you sound really upset though," Rachel told her, closing the distance between them and putting her chin on Quinn's shoulder and hugging her from behind.
Silence.
"Hey…everything's going to be okay now…right?" Rachel was unsure of exactly what to say.
Unexpectedly, Quinn turned over and put her arms around Rachel, sobbing.
The petite brunette hugged her tightly until her tears slowed.
"I've lost so much in my life," Quinn choked out.
"I know, Quinn," Rachel validated, immediately thinking of Quinn's baby, and her parents reaction to her untimely pregnancy, and now…Cate.
Quinn pulled away quickly, modest about her loss of decorum, and sat up in the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest, saying, "I'm really sorry."
"Don't be…," Rachel sat up too, trying to reassure her, "…I want so much to be your friend."
Quinn paused, her circumstances and surroundings hitting her like a ton of bricks. Am I really sitting in Rachel Berry's bed, crying over my girlfriend, she thought. The blonde shook her head to clear it before looking over at the Glee Club diva who had always been such a thorn in her side, realizing in this moment how much life could morph when you're not paying close attention. "You are, Rachel."
"Really?" she asked quietly.
"Surprisingly…yes," Quinn smiled slightly which could be seen in the cascade of moonlight coming through Rachel's bedroom window, shining directly onto the bed. Quinn wasn't sure if she had grown as a person lately or if Rachel had softened or both, but Quinn was seeing the tiny brunette in a different capacity since their junior year ended. With these thoughts, Quinn added, "I consider you a very good friend, Rachel."
"Can I ask you a question then?"
"I think you just did," Quinn had to let out a laugh, knowing it was never a good thing when Rachel was curious.
"Another question then," Rachel smiled.
"Okay…go ahead."
"Are you a lesbian?"
"Why? Would that make too many lesbians?" Quinn inquired light-heartedly.
"No, of course not…that's absurd…there's no set number that I'm aware of," Rachel giggled, trying to make light of any awkwardness, "I'm just sort of…surprised…is all."
"Nobody is more surprised than I am, Rachel…," Quinn answered bluntly, "…but why are you surprised?"
"I'm not sure really," Rachel shrugged, "You fought so hard for Finn."
"I thought Finn was what I needed in my life…at the time."
"You never thought you might be before you met Cate?" Rachel asked for clarification.
"I knew there was an emptiness inside me that I couldn't seem to fill…but, until I met Cate, I didn't know what it was that was missing."
"But…now you know?"
"Now I see everything more clearly…," Quinn tried her best to explain what she'd struggled to understand herself in the past few days, "…I was only seeing in black and white…but now that I've opened my mind…and my heart…there's so much color in the world that I never saw before."
"I'm happy for you, Quinn," Rachel said sincerely, "You deserve good things."
"So do you, Rachel…don't let anything…or anyone…hold you back…okay?" Quinn returned the sentiment, "…because you are destined for greatness…I truly believe that."
"I want to hug you again," Rachel smiled broadly.
"Even though now you know I'm a lesbian?" Quinn joked.
Rachel laughed and reached to pull Quinn toward her into an embrace. "Thank you, Quinn…for the encouragement you've always given me."
Quinn squeezed back, stating genuinely, "Thank you, Rachel…for your support."
Mrs. Pierce pulled off the main street into the parking lot in front of Dr. Shane's office, coming to a stop near the entrance door but not parking.
Santana slid open the back passenger door of the blue Sienna and stepped out, followed closely by Brittany.
"Where are you going?" Santana turned to ask.
"With you," Brittany stated as though it were obvious.
"Oh no…not this time…," Santana stepped around the tall blonde to open the front passenger door, motioning for her to get in, "…I'll be fine…and you have an appointment too."
"For what?" Brittany asked, confused, climbing into the front seat because she was being politely pushed by the Latina.
Mrs. Pierce spoke up, "A doctor's appointment…for your stomach issues."
"How did you know about that?" Brittany looked at her mom.
"Your girlfriend loves you very much," her mom told her with a smile, leaning slightly to give a quick wink to Santana.
Brittany turned back toward Santana with a raised brow and a tilt of her head, "I'm fine."
"And after you see your doctor…we'll know for sure," Santana said firmly.
Brittany reached outward for the door then paused to place a kiss on Santana's cheek, whispering near her ear, "We'll talk about this later."
"I love you too," Santana mouthed as she helped the door shut, waving goodbye.
Once the van drove out of sight, Santana looked at her watch. 10:53 am. She walked into the building to find her mother waiting patiently in the lobby.
"Mom?" Santana acknowledged her.
Mrs. Lopez looked up from the magazine she was reading and smiled, closing it and standing. She walked over to her daughter and hugged her tightly, "You look better today, sweetheart."
"I've been drinking more fluids…and eating…slowly, but still…that's good, right?"
"Anything's an improvement," her mother said encouragingly.
"Dad didn't come with you," Santana noted sadly.
"Not this time, dear…," Mrs. Lopez confirmed, "…but…he did send these." The older Latina pulled something from her pants pocket, holding it up for Santana to see.
The young brunette instantly recognized the tiny red megaphone dangling from the set of keys. "My car keys?" she said, confused.
"He said you will be responsible for the insurance and maintenance…but he will pay the note for you."
Santana paused to ponder that offer then said matter-of-factly, "Keep them…I don't want the car."
"Santana…your father is being generous," Mrs. Lopez had a look of complete surprise at her daughter's reaction.
"Maybe…but I don't want his money…," Santana said with confidence.
"Why?" her mother could not understand, "…because it comes with conditions?"
"No…because it comes with judgment…and I don't need that sort of poison in my life…I'm having a hard enough time with stuff inside my own head."
A voice from behind them called out, "Ladies? Are you ready?"
Santana turned to see Dr. Shane standing near the door to her office. The teen smiled, internally grateful for the interruption, and answered, "Yes."
Dr. Shane politely ushered the mother and daughter into her cozy office, pointing to the chairs side by side when she said, "Please…have a seat."
Santana allowed her mom to sit in the more comfortable, leather chair, and she sat to her right in the doctor's desk chair, crossing her legs at the knees.
Both Latinas fidgeted in quiet as the doctor scribbled some quick notations on the tablet in her lap. The psychiatrist watched the two of them over the top of her reading glasses, observing how similar mother and daughter were to each other in appearance and mannerisms. They both looked down at their hands, rubbing the thumb of their left hands with the thumb and index fingers of their right hands.
Dr. Shane paused and looked up, remarking, "There seems to be some tension between the two of you right now?"
Neither responded.
"I reviewed your medical records and consulted over the phone with Dr. Westin," the psychiatrist informed them, "How are you feeling today, Santana?"
"Better, thank you," the young brunette looked up and smiled.
"Our last session together did not end on a very positive note…how do you feel about returning today?"
"I'm doing better…I've taken my medicine regularly the last few days…I'm not as paranoid about things…or people," Santana answered truthfully, looking back down.
"Am I…'people'?" her mother asked directly.
"I'm glad you're here today, Mom," Santana said, reaching over to cover her mother's hand with her own.
Mrs. Lopez squeezed it and smiled.
"Santana…is there anything you want to say to your mother?"
"Yes…Mom…," Santana turned toward her, tucking one of her legs up under her in the chair, "…I'm moving back in with the Berrys today…I hope you'll understand…and support my decision."
"Until the end of summer?"
"Until I graduate…at least."
"I see…," Mrs. Lopez responded, her disappointment showing.
"Can you understand why Santana would want to live with the Berry family?" Dr. Shane interjected, trying to facilitate discussion.
"Yes, I can…I know living with your father…and me…under the circumstances…isn't the best for any of us right now," she said sadly, "I wish I could change that, Santana…I do…but I can't control your father's opinions."
"What about your opinions, Mom?"
"What do you mean?"
"I know you're trying…and I appreciate it so much…but what do you really think? About me?"
"About you…?"
"About me being a lesbian? Because I'm always going to be a lesbian…that will never change."
Mrs. Lopez glanced nervously at Dr. Shane then back at Santana, "Yes, I…I know."
"But you hate that…don't you?"
"I love you, Santana."
"But you hate what I am…otherwise you'd just say it."
"Say what?"
Santana looked over at her psychiatrist, who watched the exchange between mother and daughter silently. "I see the way she glances away any time Brittany and I show affection toward each other," Santana told Dr. Shane. She turned again toward her mother, "Do you not think that affects me? Do you think I don't feel judged by you too?"
"I want you to find happiness, Santana…I want you to be loved…any mother wants that for her child…but to tell you that it doesn't make me uncomfortable that you're…," Mrs. Lopez trailed off.
"You can't even say the word, can you?" Santana quietly challenged, her voice thick with hurt.
"What is it you want to hear me say, Santana?"
"I want to hear you acknowledge my sexuality!"
"I do…," Mrs. Lopez stressed to Santana then turn to Dr. Shane to emphasize, "I do."
The young Latina took a deep breath before requesting, "Then say…'My daughter is a lesbian'."
Her mother just looked at her, making it difficult for Santana to know what her thoughts were.
"Say it…please?" Santana pleaded for this simple act of acceptance from her mother.
Mrs. Lopez sighed heavily, seeing the desperation in the eyes of her only child, then she said devotedly, "My daughter is a lesbian…and…I love her with all my heart."
Santana hugged her mother tightly, warm tears escaping the corners of her eyes, "Thank you, Mom…that means everything to me."
"I don't want to lose you again, mija," the older Latina told Santana, "I want you to learn to trust me."
Santana pulled back, responding, "It's not that I don't trust you."
"But you don't tell me anything about yourself anymore…like the night you were raped…why wouldn't you feel safe coming to me…I'm your mother…why wouldn't you let me help you."
Santana looked over at Dr. Shane who gave her an encouraging smile and slight nod of her head.
The compassionate psychiatrist could see that the teen's demeanor altered and her body tensed. The doctor saw Santana start rubbing her thumb again with her right hand in an almost self-soothing manner.
"Santana?" Dr. Shane prodded.
The younger Latina only looked down at her lap and shifted again in her seat to re-cross her legs.
"Talking about your rape is very difficult for you, I know…," the doctor validated, "…but your mother is here today in an effort to help you with healing…is it possible for you to push yourself a little further…to open up to her?"
"I'm embarrassed," Santana said, hardly lifting her head, not making eye-contact.
"I could tell you that there is nothing to be embarrassed about, Santana…but, in actuality, rape is a very degrading act, isn't it?"
Santana nodded, and her mother reached over and took her hand again.
"Although the discussion is very sensitive, Santana…it is important that we continue to remind you that there is nothing shameful about what happened to you…and talking about it helps to remove that notion of shame."
"I am ashamed though," the teen swallowed hard, tears forming in her dark brown eyes.
"Is that why you hid this at first?" her mother asked.
Santana nodded again. "I didn't want you to know I got myself in that situation."
"I would never think it was your fault, Santana," her mother assured her.
"I've done things…I'm not proud of, Mom."
"Nobody's perfect, dear," Mrs. Lopez said tenderly.
"But…it's just that…I didn't want you to know how un-perfect I really am," Santana confessed, a wet stream of tears rolled down both cheeks as her voice cracked.
"Oh, honey…," Mrs. Lopez put her arms around her daughter's shoulders.
A hush fell over the room. Dr. Shane watched as the teenager broke in front of her mother. The doctor leaned forward to offer her a tissue from a box she took off her small side table, holding it up until Santana removed two of them. The psychiatrist then pointed the box toward Mrs. Lopez who was also emotional.
"Thank you," Mrs. Lopez said, taking a white tissue and dabbing at her eyes.
As the doctor settled back in her leather seat, she said, "Santana…I realize that you are struggling with your role in what happened the night of your prom…but there is no portion of your rape that you are responsible for…your attacker could have…should have…stopped at any point before he did what he did to you."
Santana sniffed hard and blew out a shaky breath, "He wants to meet with me."
"What? I did not know of this," Mrs. Lopez spoke up.
"How do you feel about seeing him again?" Dr. Shane asked, holding up her hand to politely wave off Mrs. Lopez's interruption.
"Scared…sick to my stomach…," Santana confessed, more tears falling from her eyes, "…but I just want it all to be over."
"And you feel as though it will end if you meet with him?"
"Yes…because he said he would confess if I did…but it just seems like he's violating me all over again…making me do something I don't want to do."
"What good could possibly come from this meeting?" her mother asked Dr. Shane.
The doctor took a deep breath, contemplating an answer, then put down her pen on the notepad in her lap before responding, "Other patients I've treated who were victims of violent attacks have told me it felt emotionally cathartic…cleansing for them…to confront their attacker…to look them in the face and claim back what was taken from them."
"So like…make it about me rather than about him?"
"Is that something you feel you could do?" the doctor asked protectively.
Santana nodded, "Yeah…I think maybe I could."
Brittany pulled off Santana's sandal and dropped it over the side of the bed to land with the other one then she started massaging the ball of her right foot.
"There?" she asked the Latina.
"Yes…oww…I don't know why those shoes always end up hurting my feet," she said, her eyes closed, enjoying the massage and the physical closeness of her beloved.
"Because you have a high arch…and your feet got used to wearing sneakers for so long with our Cheerios uniforms…," the blonde informed her, "…those sandals have no arch support."
Santana opened her eyes, furrowing her brow, "How do you know all that?"
"I'm a dancer…I know feet." Brittany smiled and winked, "Go on…finish telling me about your session."
"Well, so…I got a new prescription for my anxiety and depression…and Mom took me to get it filled before she brought me home."
"That's good, honey," Brittany said excitedly, moving up to lay next to Santana, "Right?"
"It'll take time to adjust to it…so please be patient with me, ok?"
"Of course…have you ever known me not to be patient?" Brittany teased.
"Well…there are times when you are quite impatient," Santana teased back, running a playful hand across Brittany's center, applying a soft pressure against the denim of her shorts.
"Oh…well…if you're talking about that…then yes…I can be very impatient," Brittany giggled as her body involuntarily folded into Santana's stimulating touch.
"What did your doctor tell you?" the Latina paused their tantalizing playfulness in order to inquire.
"About that…you went to my mom behind my back," Brittany raised her eyebrows and a serious expression spread across her freckled-face, "Why?"
Santana ran a soft caress along Brittany's jawline, telling her simply, "Because I love you…and I know you worry so much about me that you forget to think of yourself."
"I do worry about you, that's true," Brittany agreed.
"Then you need somebody to worry about you in return," Santana smiled, kissing her softly, "So…what did your doctor say, Britt?"
"Oh nothing…," Brittany sat up, biting at the fingernail on her right middle finger, "…I'm as healthy as a horse."
"Uhuh," Santana sat up too, pulling Brittany's hand from her mouth, "What did he really say? Cause I know you would never lie to me."
The blonde let out a deep sigh. "That I need to 'de-stress' or I'm going to develop an ulcer."
Santana grimaced, pausing to reflect a moment. "What can we do for fun? To 'de-stress' our lives?"
"This?" Brittany leaned into Santana and kissed her deeply, running her hand along the inside of her thigh, her fingertips sneaking up under the hem of her shorts.
"Tempting…," Santana smiled broadly, "…but I'm being serious, babe…we need to do something to clear our heads."
"My mom mentioned today that we're taking a trip to the beach in a couple of weeks…we're meeting up with my aunt and uncle…," Brittany suddenly sounded excited as she thought aloud, "…come with us…I know they won't mind…you've gone with us before."
"I didn't go as your girlfriend those times," Santana was more hesitant than the blonde.
"I'll ask them…I can be pretty convincing," she said matter-of-factly.
"Yes…yes, you can," Santana agreed with a wide grin.
Brittany smiled a smile only she could make, and all of Santana's worries melted away instantly.
There was a firm knock on the bedroom door.
"Come in," Santana said loudly, expecting it to be Rachel, so she was surprised when Kurt opened the door and stuck in his head.
"Hola!"
"Hey there!" Brittany and Santana both greeted him enthusiastically.
"You look fantastic," Kurt said animatedly, approaching the bed and kissing Santana then Brittany on their cheeks.
"You're lying through your pearly-white teeth," Santana chided good-naturedly.
"You're right…," he continued to smile, adding with a broad hand gesture, "…but even on your worse day…you still look gorgeous."
"I always knew I liked you," Santana winked.
"So you guys are needed downstairs in the basement," Kurt grabbed them each by the hand, "Pronto!"
"Why?" Brittany asked climbing off the bed while being gently pulled by Kurt.
"Because we're having game night…and the more the merrier."
"Ok…science and nature…," Finn read from the small card in his hand, "…what is the only left-handed animal?"
"The polar bear," Brittany answered quickly.
"Correct," Finn confirmed, "Collect your green pie."
"Yay, BritBrit!" Santana cheered as Brittany beamed and high-fived her.
"How do you know these things?" Kurt asked in dismay as he dug around in a clear, plastic baggie to pull out a tiny, green wedge, handing it to Brittany.
The blonde smiled and shrugged, "I don't know…I pick up things when I watch Animal Planet on the weekends with Emily."
Kurt looked dumbfounded and grimaced toward Rachel who just smiled and shook her head.
"Brittany is smart, you guys…she's just…you know…ninja smart…without you even realizing it," Santana lovingly defended, picking up the dice and leaning forward to roll then move her game piece around the Trivial Pursuit board.
"Britt…you told me once that the square root of four is rainbows," Kurt shook his head in confusion, rolling his eyes toward Blaine who sat on the floor next to him in the circle of friends.
"And you believed me?" Brittany smiled innocently.
"Wait, it's not?" Finn asked, furrowing his brow.
Rachel patted him on the shoulder before rolling her eyes and taking the box of questions from him.
"Ok, Rach…ask me a pink question," Santana focused their attention back to the game.
Rachel pulled a card from the box then read the question aloud, "Who is the top-selling artist of all-time?"
"I know this!" Santana said excitedly, "The Beatles…duh."
"That is right," Rachel told her.
"Yay me," the taller brunette celebrated her successful answer, receiving a congratulatory kiss on the lips by Brittany who was seated to her right.
"You two are cheating," Kurt challenged with frustration, motioning toward the board and the two game pieces with several colorful wedges among the other game pieces with one or two wedges each.
"How?" Brittany laughed.
"Yeah…you came and got us…," Santana laughed, enjoying the way the game was going so far and standing up from the circle to walk over to the counter of the bar, "You want another slice of pizza, hon?"
Brittany nodded.
"Ladies…I think our fellows here underestimate just how clever the female brain is…," Rachel added, appreciating that she at least had the third-most correct questions, even though, internally, she hated losing.
"Oh whatever…," Blaine laughed, "You all get questions about polar bears and Funny Girl…and I get 'Who was the 1988 gold medalist for women's figure skating?'"
"How did you not know that was Katerina Witt, dear?" Kurt said with extreme disappointment, putting his face into his open palm.
"Um…because, dear… I wasn't alive then?" Blaine retorted.
"Minor technicality…every gay man should be able to list the women's figure skating gold medalists…it's like not knowing what year Judy Garland died…," Kurt surmised, looking at his boyfriend who clearly did not know that information either, "…are you kidding me? 1969, Blaine."
"I knew that…," Blaine grimaced, shrugging toward the rest of the group of friends, "…no seriously, June…1969."
"June 22nd…1969, to be exact," Rachel added, looking up at Santana who stepped back over to the group to sit down, "You should probably learn that."
"Why? Just because I'm gay?" Santana rolled her eyes at Brittany as she handed the blonde a slice of pepperoni pizza on a paper napkin.
"Noooo…because you live here now," Rachel winked.
"Ok, Judy Garland…who cares…Finn, roll please," Santana directed the tall teen next to her.
"Even I knew that, dude…," Finn said deadpanned to the handsome brunette male across the circle from him, rolling the dice and moving his game piece three spaces.
Blaine just shook his head in response.
Rachel smiled widely and nodded, pleased with the confirmation that Finn actually listened during her power-point presentation on "Hollywood, The Golden Era".
"So who is going to the river for the Fourth of July fireworks Tuesday night?" Brittany asked, sensing a change of topic was needed.
"You know…I've never been to that," Blaine offered, turning to Kurt next to him, "We should go."
"We should all go," Rachel said excitedly, "Let's get everyone from Glee Club to go…that would be so much fun!"
"Yeah…that sounds pretty cool actually," Finn agreed, "I haven't been since summer after freshman year."
"I remember that…you went with Quinn…right?" Brittany replied, thinking back to that summer and the memory that flashed in her head, causing her to turn toward Santana with a knowing smile.
Santana smiled back at Brittany, knowing what she must be thinking, seeing Brittany's fair skin flush slightly. A deep heat instantly moved through Santana's entire body, settling in her groin, and her heart fluttered slightly as she remembered the first time she and Brittany made love.
"I would love that…let's do it!" Blaine smiled.
Rachel picked up her pink, bedazzled cell phone, "I'll send a text to everyone right now!"
Cate gingerly rolled from her side to her back, grimacing as a pain shot through the right side of her ribcage. She took as deep a breath as she could without triggering another jolt of pain, opening her eyes to find a beautiful blonde with uniquely-green eyes, smiling back at her.
"Hey," Cate smiled too, soothed immediately to find Quinn sitting in a chair at her bedside, reading a book, "Whatcha reading?"
Quinn lifted up the book she held in her lap so Cate could see the cover, "The Girl Who Played with Fire…I picked it up earlier today."
"Oh cool, so you finished The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo?" Cate asked with a huge smile.
"Yes…and I loved it as much as you said I would," Quinn said as she slid her bookmark in between the pages she'd been reading then closed the book and set it on the side table next to Cate's hospital bed.
"I knew you would…now we can see the movie when it's released…I can't wait to see Rooney Mara on the big screen," Cate told her, "She's totally hot in the movie trailer."
Quinn was suddenly quiet, and she got up, busying herself with checking Cate's water pitcher. Finding it empty, she turned to the in-room sink and filled it with cold water, replacing the lid and setting it back down on the table next to Cate's bed.
"Did I say something wrong?" the brunette asked her, catching her by the forearm as she passed again by the bed, "Quinn?"
"Everything's fine," the blonde teen tried to convince the older girl, wiping quickly at moisture that was collected in the corners of her eyes.
"You don't look fine," Cate frowned, the bridge of her nose looking more bluish-purple this night than the night before and the larger piece of gauze over her eye was replaced now with two butterfly-closure strips.
The younger girl sat back down in the bed-side chair and sighed heavily, feeling more and more ridiculous with every emotional breakdown she continued to have.
"Quinn?" Cate prompted softly, "Talk to me, sweetheart."
"You've been so excited about that damn movie…ever since you loaned me that book," Quinn laughed slightly at herself.
Cate's eyes narrowed, "I don't get it? I thought you said you liked it?"
"I did."
"You don't like Rooney Mara?" Cate tried to joke, "Is it the piercings? The mohawk?"
Quinn laughed more, despite a tear escaping down her face, thinking of Puck's bad-boy image, probably the only thing she could say attracted her to him, "No, I like mohawks actually."
Cate pulled Quinn by the wrist, motioning her to climb into the hospital bed beside her, "Tell me what you're thinking."
Quinn settled into the bed, wrapping her arms around Cate's long, thin frame, careful not to pull on any of her tubes or wires. She laid her head on the older girl's chest, breathing in her familiar scent, letting Cate's closeness help compose her emotions.
"I'm thinking that if you had gotten yourself killed on that damn motorcycle…and I had to go see that movie without you…I'd be so pissed off at you," Quinn formed her thoughts into words as best she could.
Cate couldn't help but laugh even though it was excruciating, "I love you so much."
Quinn smiled, "I love you too."
The two lay together quietly for several minutes before Quinn asked matter-of-factly, "So do I need to get a piercing for you to think I'm 'totally hot'?"
"What?" Cate laughed more, looking down at Quinn who looked up at her.
"You seem to like girls who are pierced is all."
"Oh, Quinn Fabray…you could not be more hot than you were the other night…," Cate kissed her on the forehead, "…even if you got a hundred piercings."
"I wouldn't even know where to start to put a hundred piercings," Quinn found that idea amusing.
"Well, you would definitely have to get creative with placement," Cate smiled then leaned in to kiss the blonde firmly on the lips.
"Who knows…I may surprise you one day…and just show up with one."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah…really…then you'd have to go hunting for it," Quinn teased.
"Oh really?" Cate repeated with a sexy tone to her voice, "I'm up for that challenge."
Quinn ran her hand up Cate's neck, pulling her into a more passionate kiss, until the brunette pulled back, saying with a playful frown, "Oww…my nose…okay, maybe I'm not quite up for the challenge…yet."
Brittany sat on the floor of Santana's room folding and organizing her suitcase as Santana lay on her stomach on the foot of the bed, watching her.
"I'm going to miss you tomorrow night," the Latina said sadly.
Brittany folded a pair of denim shorts and stacked them on top of some light blue, cotton shorts. She paused and looked up at her girlfriend's gloomy face, telling her, "I know, honey…I'll miss you too…but my mom wants me to come home for a few days."
"Yeah, I know…I understand...you need to spend time with your family."
Brittany shifted to sit up on her knees so she was face to face with Santana. She kissed her lovingly on the cheek then on the lips, cupping her chin in her hand, "You are my family, Santana Lopez…don't ever think you're not."
Santana smiled broadly. Her big, brown eyes had a return of her former sparkle which was not lost on Brittany, giving the blonde even more hope that things were slowly returning to normal for them.
"Do you know what I was thinking about tonight?" the Latina asked.
"What?" Brittany ran a soft touch down Santana's bare arm.
"Fourth of July," Santana stated cryptically.
"Yes…?"
"Two years ago."
"Uhuh…?"
"Fireworks…," Santana narrowed her eyes as her lips curled into a sexy smirk.
"Down at the river?" Brittany tilted her head, doing her best to blithely play innocent.
"Well…I recall us making some fireworks of our own…before the river," the Latina purred.
Brittany inched closer to the bed, leaning into Santana's neck, whispering with hot breath into her ear, "Uhuh...I definitely saw lots of colors that night."
"Me too," Santana tilted her head to kiss Brittany, the Latina's tanned-fingers tangling in her long, blonde locks.
"I loved you very much then…did you know that?" Brittany asked breathlessly, breaking away from their intense kiss.
"I was never sure…and I was too afraid to ask," Santana confessed.
"I should have told you…but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable," the blonde said honestly.
"I loved you with all my being…," Santana said boldly, "…especially that night."
"Yeah…I know…," Brittany confirmed, looking deep into Santana's eyes, "…it was written all over your face."
Author's note: Thank you for continuing to read my story and for your patience in between each update. I tried to give you guys some light-hearted scenes in this chapter, since the last several updates have been quite emotional and intense. I hope you enjoyed the playful side of Brittany and Santana and of Quinn and Cate. I threw in a Faberry scene for everyone who adores that pairing (including me). I also hope my lovely Klaine-shippers enjoyed a brief visit by those two.
This story will be ending soon, so start to prepare yourselves for that in the next three or so chapters. Let me know what you think about the idea of a sequel, future!Brittana, set several years later.
As always, please let me know what you think about this chapter or the story overall. Your constructive comments and questions are invaluable to me as I write these chapters. But, as a side note, thank you for allowing me some space at the beginning of this update to address one reviewer who was extremely harsh and somewhat unfair in her assessment of HSHM. I found my response to be very cathartic! Love you guys, Kim