AN: I think people are annoyed by this fic because the way it was written as a choose your own adventure story, and my subscribers chose where the story went, which is why it's so choppy. Fanfiction won't let me say the p word. I'm not even asking for you support me though you can. I've always been frank that all my stories will eventually end up on fanfiction, and maybe ao3 if I'm not lazy.

Dinner had been a quiet affair, filled with the chatter of children. It bothered her to no end that Charlie couldn't meet her eyes, throughout dinner. She seemed more interested in what Bela had learned today and helping her daughters with their reading. It left her alone with her thoughts, as she struggled to figure out what she could possibly say to fix this. It had been more nearly thirteen years ago.

She had been young, she had been stupid. Porn had seemed like a good idea at the time. She loved having sex, she was sexy as hell, and she had heard that porn stars got paid a grand per scene. Plus it was a good way to get her foot in the door.

All of it had been lies, she only received a few hundred dollars per scene. But she had needed to pay for her STD testing out of pocket, which cut into her profits. She was also aware that the sex she had back then had warped her view of sex now. It had been an epic mistake that was probably going to cost her the most important person in her life.

Santana stares at the door that led to their bedroom and shifts nervously, she didn't want to have this conversation with Charlie. Her excuses sounded lame even to her, and Charlie didn't seem concerned with the porn, though she probably hadn't thought to much about it. When Charlie turns to look at her she shifts uncomfortably for a moment. "Hey."

Charlie opens her mouth to say something and then frowns and runs a hand through her hair, "Sophie says she wants a puppy," Charlie says finally looking at Santana. "I said we'd think about it."

Santana nods, she could say no later, right now she needed to get Charlie in a level-headed place. If that meant agreeing to a dog, she'd do that. "Okay."

Charlie narrows her eyes at this, Santana had always insisted that she didn't have time or inclination to take care of a pet and that's exactly what would happen if they got one. The kids would make her take care of it. "Is that what it's going to be, you're just going to give me whatever I want to make it okay that you went through my emails? Hoping that I forget, that our entire marriage has been built on lies."

"Lies? Don't be dramatic—"

"I'm being dramatic? I married a fucking porn star. I think it's safe to say that you straight up lied to me." She crosses her arms over her chest defiantly. "So, go ahead. Tell me that you aren't just praying for this to all go away."

Santana narrowed her eyes, "I'm a lawyer, you married a lawyer. I did porn, not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth," Santana snaps at Charlie. "Your parents paid your tuition. Your parents paid for your place to live, and they gave you a shit ton of spending money I had to work for everything that I had."

"So, you do porn?"

"I acted in some videos that I wish I hadn't. I wish I had been smart enough to realize that this could destroy my entire career and reputation."

"It sure didn't look like acting. It looked like you enjoyed yourself pretty thoroughly." Charlie retorted snidely. She narrows her eyes slightly, "The day that we met—you were one of the girls who were hired weren't you? What else did you do for money?"

The implication was clear enough, and Santana swallows sharply. "You think that I whored myself out?"

"You're a lawyer. You know as well as I do the only real difference between a whore and a porn star is that a porn star is filmed. You're both selling sex. You were paid to be there, weren't you?"

"So, what if I was? Would you have let that guy continue to harass me if I was? You even said that it didn't matter if I was, that he should have treated me with respect or was that just some line to get into my pants?" Santana licks her lips and stares at Charlie crossing her arms over her chest. She could feel the burn of the tears in her eyes, but she wasn't going to let Charlie have some sick satisfaction in knowing that her words had hurt. "So, to make sure that we're on the same page, you just inferred that I'm a whore because I did porn, anything else you want to throw at me to make yourself feel better?"

Charlie bit her lip, she hated how Santana could just turn the tables on her. "I've watched your videos, being called a whore was something that is surprisingly common, you fucking got off on it," Charlie muttered. Santana reacts before Charlie ever sees it coming, slapping her hard and fast. It doesn't hurt, so much as shocks Charlie and forces her to take a step back.

Santana stares at Charlie, partly in shock as her vision blurs and the tears begin to flow freely. She hadn't meant to lash out like that, it had just happened. She'd heard those words before, that tone of voice, like she was less than, that someone was entitled to her because she had given herself freely. "I expected that from other people, but I thought you—you weren't like that."

"Yeah, well maybe we didn't know each other as well as we thought." Charlie licks her lips and takes a step back before looking away. Seeing Santana cry would only make her cry and she didn't want that. "I don't care about your past. I care that you lied to me. That you hid this from me. I mean you're the most beautiful woman that I know and I figured that there were plenty of others before me, people who wanted you and I thought that I was the luckiest person in the world, that you decided to marry me of all people. I thought it was because you loved me as much as I loved and adored you. So, you doing porn, it doesn't bother me. It bothers me that I don't know anymore if you married me for my money. I don't know if you ever orgasmed when we had sex, it bothers me that I don't know you as well as I thought I did."

"I love you—"

"Then you would have told me." Charlie interrupts. "You would have been honest with me, I'm honest with you."

"Do you even remember that night? I do, we spent the rest of the night on the balcony just talking and laughing—you think that I faked that? I'm a failed actress, and it's not because I did porn. You saw the commercials." Santana admits, she was a terrible actress and she still winced at those old commercials that her colleagues still teased her about mercilessly. She sees something flash across Charlie's face, she was getting through to her. "I didn't marry you for your money, if you want we can create a post-nuptial agreement—"

"I don't want that," Charlie insists, her shoulders slumping a bit as she sits down on the bed and looks at her hands. "I just—don't understand why you couldn't tell me? I had to find out from Puck of all people."

"I wanted to tell you, but I was terrified that you'd leave. I mean I knew people in the industry, and many of them don't have the healthiest of relationships. The type of people that a job like that attracts—I thought I had something real with you and I didn't want to fuck it up. You were a Fabray, you think your parents would have let you marry me if they knew? You know how they were when it came to Rachel."

"They love Rachel."

"Yeah, now that she's a huge Broadway star. Are you honestly going to pretend that you would have given up everything, your money, the power that you crave—just to be with me? Some ex-adult actress? You want to pretend that it wouldn't have clouded your judgement," Santana challenges. "I mean you're not an idiot Charlie. So yeah, I didn't tell you. I was selfish, I knew that you were it for me—and I made the decision to take it to my grave. I wasn't that person anymore, I didn't ever want to be that person again. I was the person that you fell in love with. That's why I didn't tell you."

Charlie was quiet for a moment, it made sense. Sure, she wasn't as worried about her reputation, but she did have a close relationship with her parents. Russell and Judy both had very strict ideas on what was proper in their social circles. Would she have really been willing to put up with the headache of defying her parents? Especially when she first met Santana?

She wasn't sure.

And if she had any doubts, well maybe Santana had a good reason to try to keep her past private. It wasn't as if Charlie ever asked her. "I'd like to think that we'd still be together, that I would have told my parents to mind their own business. But I don't know because you never gave me that choice. Maybe you were right, maybe I would have done what my parents wanted and we would have broken up. I just—" Charlie sighs and inches towards her wife wanting to just hold her and pretend that this stupid argument had never happened. "Santana—"

Santana watches as Charlie shifts, and fiddles with her hands, concern in her eyes as well as uncertainty. Things had been said and Charlie realized that, she'd probably spend the next few weeks trying to be better around the house and in general until she felt like she was forgiven. "Do you really not care?"

"That you did porn?" Charlie shakes her head. "I don't. I mean now that I think about it you were probably overacting like you do during it? And most of it is fake orgasms and stuff, right?"

Santana hesitated for a moment, she had walked right into that one. She could hear the insecurity in Charlie's voice, the desperation to know that she was one of her if not her greatest lover and that simply wasn't the case. "Some of it, is fake," she says finally trying to ease Charlie away from it. "Yeah, I did fake a few orgasms here and there, and yeah I did play it up for the camera."

Charlie rubs the back of her neck, relaxing. "Okay, I mean I know people say that size doesn't—"

"Your dick is fine Charlie, you shouldn't compare yourself to them. That's the bad thing about porn it's an unrealistic expectation of sex. Look some of them weren't that great and it was a bit more painful than I would have liked. Your dick size and shape is perfect."

Charlie smiles at the compliment puffing out her chest a bit, "Okay. Yeah, that makes sense. I mean I guess I just felt insecure because I was afraid you thought our sex-life was boring." When Santana's gaze darts to the side and she bites her lip Charlie's smile slowly fades from her lips as she stares at her wife. "Do you fake your orgasms with me?"

Santana freezes. She really hadn't been exaggerating when she admitted to being a terrible actress, and she is even worse at lying to Charlie at least. But she's damned either way, and valiantly decides to try her luck with honesty. "I mean, not usually. Like everybody does it sometimes, right?"

Charlie's jaw drops. She's not sure if her heart stops beating, but it sure as hell feels like it. Santana fakes it? What type of woman is she, that she can't even satisfy her wife?

Santana rushes to fill the silence. "I mean, it's been ten years. Ten great years. But ten years is a long time and that doesn't mean—"

"How much is sometimes?" Charlie presses crossing her arms.

Santana grimaces this was not going her way, she should have just lied and waited until Charlie wasn't in meltdown mode to broach the subject, "It's hard to put a number on—"

"Fine when was the last time I made you orgasm for real?" Charlie demands. When Santana doesn't answer right away her heart sinks at the thought. "Santana!"

"Okay, fine before Sophie was born."

"That was four years ago!"

"It's no big deal Charlie—"

"Like hell it isn't! Am I that shitty in bed—?" Charlie inhales, the insecurities coming back. Well it certainly explained a few things. "Is that why you give me blowjobs all the time?"

Santana winces this was all unravelling faster than she wanted it to. "Charlie, you like getting blowjobs—I mean I don't understand why you're complaining about this."

"I like eating you out too, but I thought you didn't like me doing it, for some silly religious reason. I mean I always felt bad because it felt like you were just doing it, while I never got to return the favor because—well I never figured out why, but obviously now I see it was to get me to go away! I thought you liked giving me head."

It was closer to the truth but there was no way in hell she was going to admit that right now. "It's not you Charlie, you try really hard when we have sex, and I love that about you but it's not you, it's me."

"Oh bullshit, don't give me that lame excuse," she was practically vibrating, and she didn't quite know why. Her skin itched and all she knew was that she didn't want to be here in this room with Santana anymore. Sure, Santana had said some nice words that made her feel better but she didn't know who this woman was. "I—I need to get out of here," she mumbles under her breath.

Santana moves to stop her, reaching for her arm only for Charlie to slap it away gently. "Charlie—"

"We're supposed to be honest with each other, except you lied, you keep on lying and I don't know who you are. I thought for the past ten years that I was pleasing my wife, that even with her hang-ups I could bring her some modicum of pleasure, maybe I wasn't the best lover you had but I was a semi-decent lover but nope. You lied to me about that. So right now, I don't know if up is down, or down is up or whatever. I don't even know if you honestly love me like you claim to. Maybe you think you do but who knows cause you're a liar."

"Charlie—" Santana begins again, she could have just let it go. Had some reconciliatory sex with Charlie and things would have been fine.

Charlie pulls back and looks away before heading to her side of the closet as she begins to throw some shit into her gym bag. She didn't actually go to the gym, and she had no idea why she even bought the thing. "I'm going to go—I need to get out of here right now. I'll be at Quinn's—or some hotel I just—need some space to think."

Santana swallows, "I know you think that I don't love you, but I do. Charlie, I love you so much. So please don't doubt that."

Charlie doesn't say anything right away but nods, as she grabs her bag and slips past Santana. She felt bad for leaving her kids, but she needed a night or three away from Santana to think.

Okay, I'm looking for someone to keep me focused and manage my general weirdness. That includes listening to random thoughts and drabbles that I debate whether to post. I'm currently overextending myself and I need help someone creative and someone who doesn't mind me being a bit of an asshole sometimes when I throw my little writer tantrums. This isn't a job for just anyone. It's borderline thankless. It involves dealing with me whining. But I mean the upside is that I'll open the books for you and you get access to about 90% of what I've written. The abandoned stories, the new works, the ideas that just need you to push me, this includes me telling you story ideas randomly and then never doing anything about it. My last one lasted for about a year and a half. So if you're interested drop me a line and if we click I'll do a trial run with a story that I'm working on.