Santana winced, it had been a rocky few days and right now she just wanted to enjoy her wife's arms wrapped around her. Sure, it wasn't exactly comfortable with Charlie's morning wood poking up against her but at least Charlie was holding her. Things were still—off between them. But this felt right and more importantly normal. She would spend the entire day like this if she didn't have to take care of her kids, and then there was the fact that she really needed to pee. "Charlie, let go, I need to pee," she murmurs trying to pry Charlie's hands off her.
"No." Charlie grumbles trying to hold Santana tighter. She inhales deeply enjoying her scent, as her wife tries to squirm away.
"Charlie!" When her wife doesn't move, Santana rolls her eyes and reaches back to pinch Charlie's hip hard. Almost immediately Charlie yelps and loosens her grip for a moment. It was all she needed to pull free as she rushes to the bathroom, ignoring Charlie's loud childish groan. Things would probably return to being awkward, but she had really needed to go. She finishes up in the bathroom quickly, and heads towards their bed, watching Charlie carefully. Now that Charlie was semi-awake, there was a good chance that—
"Santana. Bed's getting cold, you're warm. Come back." Charlie waves her arms lazily.
Santana can't help but roll her eyes as she starts to crawl back into bed, "You hog the blankets, and you use me as a space heater, I don't know what I see in you," Santana pauses at her words and swallows. That had been stupid, things weren't good.
That didn't stop Charlie from pulling her close and nuzzling her neck and inhaling deeply. "It's obviously my charm, and how fucking adorable I am," Charlie deadpans after a moment before closing her eyes.
Santana snorts at this statement, but she relaxes. Maybe she was the one that was walking on eggshells, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Charlie had sworn that she didn't care about the porn, but they hadn't really talked about it. Plus, Charlie was a Fabray, they were notorious for keeping things bottled up until it became unhealthy.
"Penny for your thoughts," Charlie says after a moment. She could feel Santana's mind working and it was interrupting her beauty sleep.
"My thoughts are worth much more than a penny," Santana scoffs before rolling over so she could face Charlie, resting her head against hers. When Charlie finally opens her eyes, she leans in for a small kiss, and is rewarded with Charlie's crooked smile. "Tell me something that you've never told anyone else," Santana presses.
Charlie grunts in response and closes her eyes again. "I was almost engaged once, before you."
That was a shock, Charlie had mentioned other girlfriends in the past but she'd never mentioned that she had ever thought of marrying someone else. "Almost?" Santana presses.
"She wanted an eleven-thousand-dollar engagement ring," Charlie shrugs.
Santana pauses for a moment, "You spent nearly thirty thousand dollars on my ring with taxes, I was terrified of losing it. I was also scared that I was going to get mugged. So, that's not a reason. At least, that's not a reason for you."
"She also wanted a house on a lake. Some purebred horses, wanted to vacation in Monaco. Also, she wanted me to buy her a car."
"Oh."
"So, I broke up with her. She didn't love me she liked the gifts I bought her. You didn't like the gifts I bought you, it was infuriating. Wouldn't let me help you for the longest time, I mean it was maddening. That was what our first fight was about. Remember? I think—that's when I decided you were going to be my wife."
Santana rolled her eyes, "You're an idiot."
"I'm a masochist, is what I am. I needed you in my life and I recognized that. Plus, I was pretty sure I was madly in love with you." Charlie shifts against the bed for a moment. "Your turn."
"I did porn. Hardcore porn." Santana says after a moment half expecting Charlie to pull away, but Charlie doesn't move.
"Why?"
The question isn't really a surprise, "The Spotlight diner cut back on my hours, and I was struggling to pay my half of the rent. I mean I thought it was good money, at least what they were offering. I didn't read the fine print—" Santana pauses when she hears a snort erupt from Charlie's lips. "This was before I became a contract lawyer." When Charlie starts to giggle, she doesn't hesitate to gently tweak Charlie's hip again. "You're the worst."
"I can't help it. Go on. I promise I won't laugh." Charlie nods earnestly causing Santana to sigh. "We were talking about why you chose to do hardcore porn."
"I needed to pay for my tuition, I wasn't getting jobs like Rachel was and that god-awful yeast commercial didn't pay all that great. I mean I'm just as talented as Rachel is, and Rachel even admits it, but there are hundreds of talented women who never get their shot. I was hoping that this would be the break that I needed," Santana explained. "Despite there have been very few actresses that have made the switch, I mean at the time I didn't think it was impossible. So, I did it." There was a quiet pause, and for the life of her Santana can't figure out what Charlie's thinking, but she knew her wife was thinking. She could see it in her eyes.
"I liked the videos where you were alone," Charlie said after a moment. "I watched them—every single one that I could find. The others—I mean it turned me on, but—I didn't like it. I didn't like seeing you with other people. I definitely don't like the fact that Noah now knows, and has seen you naked. I don't know how to handle that part."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, when he smirks at me I want to fucking kill him. I can't fire him because if I do he might put those videos out just for revenge, so I go back to wanting to kill him. But I don't think I'd do very well in jail, so I let him smirk at me and act like a douche." Charlie shrugged. "I don't care, but we need to be honest with ourselves. It's going to come out eventually. We should probably figure out a way to deal with it that doesn't involve me going on a massive killing spree."
"Rambo, you are not," Santana smiles when Charlie huffs at that. "I think we need to tell the people closest to us. Your parents, my parents, and the kids. The kids—Bela's six and Sophie's three how do we begin to tell them this? You know they're going to lose friends and playdates—"
"My last name is Fabray, their last name is Fabray-Lopez, they aren't losing any friends, my parents will freeze the lot of them out of the fancy country club." Charlie scoffed and patted Santana's side. "Don't worry about the kids, if it does get out to that point I assume my parents will stop being scandalized, and actually move to protect their grandchildren. All my parents are going to do is yell at me for not doing my due diligence."
"You know that they'll try and do more than that," Santana bit her lip. Charlie was not the best person with money. They were fine because Charlie had a huge well of money to draw from, but if her parents took that away—which they threatened to do all the time, Charlie was screwed. Their finances would take a hit.
"I imagine that they'll threaten to write me out of their wills, but I have a massive trust in my name. I've been in charge of that since I turned twenty-one, which they forget. We'll be fine, the kids will probably get my half instead which is fine," Charlie shrugs. "Though if we're being realistic, the old man will probably die, before he finalizes changing everything. Sophie's been around for three years and he just added her to the will like last month."
"Charlie!" Santana gasped horrified. She had heard Charlie and Quinn joke about their father before but this was a bit callous even for her.
"What? He smokes those awful cigars of his, he eats bacon like every morning, he's fat, doesn't go to the gym and gorges himself on fancy food that isn't really good for him. I've made my peace with the fact that my dad is going to drop dead of a heart attack. I mean he's pre-diabetic according to my mother. We'll be fine," Charlie waved her hand. "You on the other hand are fucked. Your mother is going to murder you. Somehow of course it'll be my fault, but she's going to kill you."
"That's why I'm going to tell her over the phone and then we're going to leave the country until she calms down," Santana muttered.
"Because your mother won't show up and murder you anyway." Charlie grinned and immediately rolled off the bed to dodge Santana attempting to swat her with a pillow.
"I hate it when you're right," Santana mused. "We could always get pregnant again and then tell her then."
This time it was Charlie's turn to roll her eyes. "The last time you were pregnant your mother practically moved in, I don't want that. You don't want that. Just tell your dad and then have him tell your mom and then leave the country. I mean our anniversary is coming up." Santana doesn't exactly look convinced that will save her causing Charlie to rethink her plan. "How about this, we tell them that we're going to Bora Bora, and then before our flight "leaves" we tell them and then we get on a plane. Give them a week, then we show up and then you know, deal with it. We spend the week you know just the two of us."
"You are not making me cum on every—" There's a banging on the door causing Santana to stop and turn to it, glancing at the time. Of course, the kids would be up, it was a weekend which meant early Saturday morning cartoons with Charlie. "Go entertain our children, we'll talk about you making me orgasm on every single surface of this house another time," she hisses the last part at Charlie.
"Fine, fine. But I'm totally in the mood for French Toast, or waffles," Charlie muses.
Santana nods, "That actually sounds pretty good with some fresh fruit, with a proper syrup on them. The girls would love that."
Charlie grins, "Yeah they would and I—"
"Breakfast in bed, that's why I married you," Santana smirks as Charlie's jaw drops. "Hurry it up and then we'll watch your awful cartoons together in bed with the kids."