Title: Locksmith
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 5.3k
Summary: Even now, after ten years together, you still aren't in the right place and it's like you can never fit right together for too long before one of you shifts and it happens again.
Notes: I wanted to write something a little different to usual. It's following along from my other fic, NKIN, and I'd recommend you read that prior to this if you haven't. Potentially could be a standalone but no harm in promoting another one of stories, right? *insert cheeky grin*
/
Life didn't quite turn out like you expected.
It's been ten years since you got your happy ending, and so much has happened to make it happier, but there's also some other stuff that you never planned for that are–well, not so happy.
To get straight to the point – you and Brittany are no longer together.
Somewhere along the line, life got in the way and you both got busy and even though you had a kid – little Lucas – love wasn't enough to keep you together. Which is ridiculous after everything you two went through, but it's one of those things you had to accept. It's not like you two didn't try though; you spent months trying to patch up the broken parts of your relationship, but you just ended up hurting each other and arguing and you were always best friends, as well as partners, and so you've made it work these last four months since you split by focusing on that aspect.
But it's not a permanent split.
It's a trial separation, to see if you could make yourself happy as individuals before trying to be happy together again, and you moved to a little apartment downtown and Brittany stayed in the flat you lived in together for all those years.
You don't sleep together anymore – you learnt that from the whole friends with benefits thing – and you're not as touchy as you used to be, as it's a little strange and overwhelming and causes this chemical reaction that just makes you never want to stop touching her.
Anyway, it's your turn to have Lucas for the weekend, as you work some boring ass office job that's Monday to Friday, and you're super excited about it. You always get excited when you get to look after your son, and okay, maybe you also get excited too because Brittany always drops him off and you get five minutes with her, like it used to be without prying eyes and hopeful stares.
(Quinn keeps rooting for you two to get back together.)
(She isn't the only one.)
There's a knock on the door and you check yourself over in the floor length mirror by your front door before opening it, and then she's there, looking as beautiful as she did the day you met her. Brittany's smiling, the smile widening when her eyes meet yours and for a second you forget how to breathe. After all this time, she still has this effect on you, and for that you're grateful – it keeps that burning flame of hope alive in your chest.
Because if she can still look at you like this; with adoring eyes and the softest smile, then you've still got a chance.
"Hey," you breathe, trying as hard as possible to seem casual as you lean against the door frame like you haven't just spent the past ten minutes touching up your hair and make-up. Your eyes fall to the little guy stood beside the blonde, Brittany's hand resting at the top of your sons head, and you grin widely, dropping to your knees and bringing him into a hug when he jumps into your arms. "Hey, buddy," you get out, squeezing him. It's only been five days since you saw him last but God, you miss him. Almost as much as you miss Brittany. "I've missed you."
"I missed you too, mama," Lucas replies, his little arms gripping around your neck like he never wants to let go but you pull out of it, gripping his biceps and looking him up and down.
"How did you grow up so much so quick?" You scrunch your nose up at him and he giggles lightly, but you can see his eyes going over your shoulder and just know that he wants to get in and play. He's only five and doesn't really understand why his moms don't live together anymore, and you really want these five minutes with Brittany, so you put your chin backwards, rolling your eyes playfully and he grins widely and bounces past you toward his toy corner in the living room, instantly diving into it.
Then it's time to get your time in with your ex. You've been looking forward to this all damn day.
"Hey, you," you say, inhaling deeply as you lean back against the door frame, folding your arms.
Brittany bites her lip and looks up at you through long lashes. "Hey stranger."
It's moments like these where you just want to cross the threshold and kiss her, make her remember why you two got together in the first place, but it just got too complicated. Only after you split up did you fall into this pattern of being good again and you don't want to mess it up. Not if there's not any talk of even getting back together going on, bar the discussions you have with Quinn–
Shit.
Which reminds you, you were going to talk to her and see what she thinks about you approaching Brittany for the talk seeing as you two discuss it all the time secretly. Or at least get a slight inkling of what the blonde's thinking about your relationship.
It has been four months, and you live in your own place, and you've been clawing back a friendship with your ex, so you think you're on a good path and Quinn always has good advice. Especially after things went south with Puck for the thousandth time and she gained a wealth of relationship knowledge from it.
Whilst you were spending the last decade creating a life, a family, a career, Quinn was out trying to make it work over and over with her own ex and things got weird repeatedly. Beth wasn't so accepting as she grew up either which didn't help; understanding more and more that her dad is a bit of an absent parent and long gone is the small six-year-old. Beth is now a freaking teenager. Driving and everything and much like Quinn, puberty, and hormones (read: mood swings) hit that girl hard.
She's basically Quinn 2.0. The Terminator version of her if you will.
"You're in your head today," Brittany says, and you snap your vision back to her, laughing awkwardly. Yeah. You're in your head all about her. Not that you can say that. That's probably a bit too much too soon.
"Just got a lot going on."
Blue eyes narrow. "Nothing out of the usual, then," she whispers, leaning against the door frame but you hear the sad undertone and find your throat thickening in reaction, eyes dropping to the floor.
Half the reason you split up in the first place was because you buried your head at work and your relationship fell by the side-lines. It was never intentional, but you lost sight of what was meant for you, instead putting all your energy and time into your career when you should've focused on Brittany.
Not that you're solely to blame though.
Brittany became a successful columnist at one of the biggest local newspapers, always busy chasing the next big headline, but it left your relationship behind as a result too. Very cliché, but the best couples break up in the most common ways and you two fell for it, but at least Brittany's successful in her job, much like you. She was always a people person, sensing others feelings before they even knew and managed to windle the greatest stories out of thin air, and you were first hand of that woman reading you. Back when you were just 'friends with benefits,' even she knew how you felt before you did.
Sure, it took her leaving for London for a year for you to truly realise what you had missed out on – even if at the time, you thought it was for the best reasons – but the old saying is true; distance really does make the heart grow fonder. That's why you got together – never got married because neither of you saw the point and you were raising Lucas together and if you're honest, you always thought you'd make it without that piece of paper.
Sometimes you wonder if that would've changed the way you two have ended up. Maybe you would've tried harder with a constant reminder on your finger and hers.
But you suppose there's no point in thinking about what could've been.
"You'll be at Lucas' show on Friday, right?" Brittany follows up, and you're glad that she's continuing the conversation because you didn't really have anything to say back to her last comment. Not without breaking down in tears. That only happened for the first month and you promised yourself if you were going to get her back, you wouldn't spent the time apart crying into mountains of tissues and watching The Notebook on re-run.
"Wouldn't miss it for anything," you reply, smiling widely at the thought of your son up on the stage and you see the brightness shine back in deep blue.
He's in this little school show as the third octopus at Jesus' birth which is extremely exciting and he's been going on about it for weeks, getting Brittany to buy the most ridiculous materials to make his costume but it's actually super sweet. You weren't aware there was even one octopus at the birth of God's son, and since the break-up, you haven't exactly wanted to mingle in a public place with everyone knowing that you and Brittany are temporarily separated but imagining seeing him perform is getting you kind of excited.
After all, he's yours and Brittany's son, so he's got a performer in him somewhere.
"Good," the blonde pushes off the frame and offers you a gentle smile. "I'll pick him up tomorrow at 6, if that's okay?"
You nod, folding your arms over your chest to hold back the urge of hugging Brittany. You haven't breached the physical side of things as of yet, which has been the hardest part. Back before you two slept together that night the electrics went out at the club, you were always touchy feely. Always brushing hands and linking pinkies, holding hips to move out the way and throwing legs over each other on sofas when settling down for movie nights.
That's the part that made this break-up feel real when you had to stop touching her. It was fighting all-natural instinct and even the thought of touching her hand gets you all hot under the collar, much like it did back in the day.
But you still can't touch her, so you clench your fists where they're tucked, suck your lips into your mouth and put a half-smile on your face. "Sure," you nod and Brittany exhales almost in relief.
She grins, a twinkle in her eye. "See you later, San."
"See you later, Britt."
Without another word, the blonde whips away and disappears down the hallway, and when you shut the door, you slump against it for a few moments before Lucas comes barrelling towards you and pulls you towards his corner of toys.
/
You decide to take Lucas out for a lunch date with Quinn and Beth.
They both make a huge fuss over your son when you get to the diner, and Beth quickly turns into a big kid herself with him as she starts coloring the little book the waiter gave Lucas when you got in after you sit down. He's using all the wrong color crayons, like yellow for an elephant and blue for a tiger, but he loves it and keeps sniggering in a way that reminds you of Brittany and Beth isn't such a teenage bitch when she's with your son, so you're going to enjoy the temporary peace.
"How's work, then?"
Your eyes slide to Quinn who's chowing down on a waffle, and you chortle before you reply. She's a thing of beauty and the waiter hasn't even bought over your food yet, but she's digging in like it's the last meal on death row. So much for manners and all.
"Like you give a shit," you lift your brow but then horror occupies your expression. "Oh God, you're not spawning another Satan are you?"
"Shut up, I'm just starving," the blonde hisses, eyes flickering to Beth even though there's no chance in hell she's pregnant. The last time someone got into that tightly locked chastity belt, humans used to carve pictures into the insides of a cave. She finishes her mouthful and picks up her coffee with both hands, blowing over the steam before taking a sip. "No, I mean is it going well? I know it keeps you on top of things," she shrugs.
You roll your eyes. You hate sympathy and you can feel it emitting from your friend. "It's fine," you half-spit, but smile sweetly as Lucas when he looks up and decide it's best to lower your tone. Kids don't understand much, but he's seen enough of you and Brittany's… disagreements to know about raised voices. "But I actually wanted to talk to you."
"About what?"
You lean forward, feeling like you're about to share a secret. You guess you kind of are. "I've got Lucas' show on Friday," you start, eyes darting around, and heat begins forming at the base of your neck. Why are you getting nervous? "And I wanted to know if you and Beth wanted to come."
It's not exactly a well thought out plan but seeing as Quinn is your number one supporter of you and Brittany getting back together, you feel like she might transfer some hope and confidence into the conversation you're hopefully going to have. It's been long enough, and you've been eagerly awaiting sharing a bed with your ex again and doing all the mundane crap you didn't think you'd miss until you split up like washing the dishes and buying groceries. Everything's been put into a much clearer perspective with this time apart, and you guess that was the reason for a trial separation; to know what you've lost.
"I wanna talk to Britt."
Quinn raises an eyebrow at you, hazel orbs narrowing. She lowers her coffee back to the table and clasps her hands together. Guess she can sense the importance in your tone. "You mean about…"
"Yeah," you nod your head, understanding the suggestion your friend is giving you as she's dipping her head but not wanting to say it out loud. It's scary enough as it is.
She grins instantly, jolting Beth a little and the teenager snarls at her mom before turning back to the coloring book. It's times like these where you're super grateful for Quinn though, even if she's a bitch like ninety percent of the time. All those years ago, she was the one who walked in on you and Brittany messing around at the coffee shop and kept it secret because she knew you two weren't ready. Then when the time came, she was there with her hand pressed to your back to stop you from falling to pieces when Brittany left for England, and on top of that, she bought the girl straight to your door the second she returned a year later and just always supported it.
Skip forward a decade, and shit doesn't change.
"How are you going to do it?" Quinn whispers.
"I think I'm just gonna wait until after the performance and pull her to the side," you suggest. You haven't really thought about how you're going to do it, rather putting more focus on to what you're going to say.
Apparently, it's not the right response though. Quinn wrinkles her face up and twists her lip like she's almost disgusted. You didn't think it was that bad.
"That's your romantic gesture?" She asks in disbelief, tucking back into her waffles. "Good luck, Brittany."
You think you're not supposed to hear the last part as it's said under her breath, but you still click your tongue her way. "You're lucky my kid is here," you jut your chin towards the little guy and bare your teeth. "Puta."
Quinn throws you a wide, cheeky smile. "Learned from the best," she winks, and you let yourself enjoy the moment, chuckling lightly because if you do that, it doesn't make the conversation so intense.
It makes it feel like pfft, it's only the next biggest thing you're going to do and so what if it tee-totals and you're left crashed, burnt out and completely destroyed after an emotional car wreck? After marriage and a separation, it's pretty hard to top those drama wise, but you're guessing a reunion is the next big step and you're trying to keep calm but it's not really working. You're more nervous than when you used to hide your feelings from your ex and the way your knee is bobbing insistently beneath the table is a sure sign of that.
"Maybe make it a little more…" The blonde opposite you waves her knife and fork around and you bite down on the urge to remember table manners. Kids learn quick from the people their closest to and you don't want your kid to be an ass at the table. He's going to be polite because that's the way you were brought up, and the way Brittany was brought up. Manners maketh man, as your mom used to say. "Special."
"What the hell am I gonna do?" You ask, but it's rhetorical. "I think we're the past the age of rose petals and baths by candlelight."
It's at that moment that the waiter comes by and puts your food in front of you, nodding her head and helping Lucas remove his coloring book to replace it with a small hamburger and chips. You usually like him to have vegetables with each meal – apparently, carrots can make him see in the dark better – but this is a treat and his little face lit up when he saw it on the menu. Mostly because a cartoon was holding the burger up and it looked just like him.
You pick up your own cutlery to start, but then there's a hand settling over the back of yours and you glance up to find Quinn. Sure, she's like, your best friend, but you've never been touchy with her. Truth is, you were only ever touchy with Brittany, even back when you really were just friends, before that night at the club and it still makes you laugh at yourself because really, how could you not know that you two were going to be what you became?
Well, what you were.
"A girl's never too old to be romanced, Santana," Quinn says softly, and you hold her eyes for a few seconds before taking your first forkful of food.
You don't reply, but the silence speaks volumes.
/
Later that night, you tuck Lucas into bed and drop a kiss to his head, sneaking back into the living room and pulling the door to, enough that the light won't get in, but wide enough to hear him should he have any night terrors.
He hasn't been getting them as much lately, more so when you and Brittany first split up, but you like to be there to calm him down. Being apart from him for the majority of the week does take a toll, and you wonder what you miss day to day because you swear every time you see him, he shoots up a couple of inches in height, so he must evolve intellectually and emotionally as well. You have noticed he's been getting more and more like Brittany every day, which is kind of making having stay the night harder.
(It makes that hole in your chest ache that little bit more every time he does something that she would do.)
But still, you love him staying with you and throw yourself down on the couch, finding your phone down the side and flick it open, scrolling to your social media feeds. There are a few pictures of your friends kids, even Mike and Tina who seem to be popping out baby number four together and you chuckle to yourself when you see a funny meme from Quinn, but as you refresh it one more time before shutting everything down and switching on the television, a notification pops up and you click it open.
It's your memories, from five years ago, back when Brittany was just about to give birth to Lucas, and you're both standing in the bathroom, grinning into the camera after you felt him kick. It wasn't the first time, but it was the time right before he arrived and your heart swells at the memory. Your hand is set on her bump, her back pressed to your front and you look happier than ever.
You were happier than ever, and you feel a hard pull in the bottom of your stomach when you begin wondering if you'll ever feel the same again because you lost that. Somehow, you let that happiness slip away and the image suddenly gets too much to look at.
You have to stay positive, and you stare at the picture for another thirty seconds before you drop your phone to the sofa and flick on some trashy reality show to distract yourself.
It doesn't work.
/
"San! San!"
You ran into the bathroom, feeling a little out of breath because all you heard was Brittany yelling your name and automatically thought she was going into labour as her due date was rapidly approaching, but when you got to the bathroom, you found your girlfriend stood in front of the mirror, grasping her stomach with large, watery blue eyes that flashed to you when you slid around the corner.
"He's kicking like crazy," Brittany got out, voice hoarse from holding back tears. "You have to feel this."
You moved towards her, placing your palm over the back of hers and felt like you could have imploded with excitement when there was a little kick delivered to your touch. You jerked back, still not quite understanding how you could love something so much when it wasn't even in the outside world yet, but Brittany was pressing the back of your hand harder and it happened repeatedly, until you were both sobbing quietly.
"He's gonna be a little fighter," you said, blinking away the heat at your eyes.
Brittany nodded, and you glanced up to find her eyes beaming back at you. "He's gonna be here soon," she whispered and bit her bottom lip. "We're gonna be a family soon, San."
Despite having known that for almost nine months, the words still managed to sucker punch you in the gut and steal your breath.
"Yeah, Britt," you sniffed, smiling softly before glancing back down to the bump. "We're gonna be a family."
Brittany continued to grin at you, and you held the gaze for a long moment before she broke it. "Let's take a picture before he gets here."
Because you were so fucking happy that you needed to document this moment, you agreed and she pulled her phone out, twisting in your arms until you could wrap your own around her. She shuffled back, pointing the lens towards the mirror and you grinned widely, feeling so much emotion that you began to feel dizzy as the flash went off, but then your girlfriend was handing over her phone and you were staring down at the image of you two, looking happier than ever, waiting for the arrival of your baby boy.
"I love you, San."
You met her eye and smiled. "I love you, more."
/
Just as promised, Brittany arrives just at 6pm.
You're knelt on the floor next to Lucas by the coffee table, colouring in one of his books with him as he sits next to you when the buzzer goes off, and you press a kiss to his head, running your fingers through his hair as you go to press the button and head to the door. Then Brittany's there, looking better than ever on the other side, blonde hair wild around her shoulders, make-up light but outfit slightly dressier than usual. You tilt your head to the side, curious as to why she looks so damn good – not that she ever looks bad, but she's kind of dressed up – and smile hesitantly.
"You look great," comes from your mouth instead of the question, and find yourself blinking away the embarrassment because it came out far more honestly than you intended. You need to be chill around her and not lose your cool.
The compliment isn't unwelcome to her though, and she pushes her bangs back before ducking her head shyly. "Thank you, San," she replies, voice low.
You hang on the eye contact for a beat too long, swiftly reminding yourself that you can't do shit like that anymore – even though she makes it really damn hard when she looks like that – and push the door open, urging her in. She takes a few steps into the apartment, clasping her bag between her hands and looking like she doesn't belong here, and you shove your hands in your pockets when you kick the door shut, moving to stand beside her as you both stare at Lucas because you fucking hate that.
And you want to tell her about the time you spent with your son and everything you did, but truth is, ever since you opened the door and saw she was slightly more dressed up than usual, you've been wondering why. Is she going out for a date? Is she going to night school or something? You want to know, but you don't know if you're allowed to know anymore. The lines have been incredibly blurred in your split, both of you doing things that you're sure exes don't – like lingering touches and stares and acting like you never parted bar the physical side of things – but you've never initiated anything, and you don't think that dating other people is even on the cards.
You hope it's not. You can't even stomach the mere thought of someone else even speaking to Brittany with more than platonic intention, let alone her actually dating someone.
The debate is so strong in your mind that you can't even stop it when the question comes out. "Going somewhere nice?"
Brittany flashes her eyes to you, looking a little confused and it makes you feel slightly better. If she's confused, then she's not surprised you've asked which means she isn't trying to scramble for a lie in response. "Just going for a few drinks with some girls from work."
You bob your head, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible but the way Brittany's head cocks to the side, silently asking why you're asking, you don't think it works so you quickly try to avoid answering it. It was only because you were just being nosey, and you needed to quell the nag in the back of your brain that's convinced one day, she's going to move on without you, but you can't admit that.
(Even if you think she sees straight through you, like, all the time.)
"Sounds nice," you reply and fold your arms across your chest, turning your attention back to Lucas. "He's all packed and ready, but if you're going out for drinks, want me to keep him another night?"
"No, it's okay," the blonde steps forward and spins, facing you now. "Beth's been asking to babysit by herself for a while now," she explains and sucks her lips into her mouth. "Thank you though."
You don't reply, instead shooting her a small smile and head over to your son, ruffling your hand through his hair to gain his attention and his big blue eyes flit up to you. "Time to go, buddy," you say, and his bottom lip immediately juts out into a pout. God. He's so Brittany. "But I'll see you on Friday at your show," you add on and scoop him into your arms, his legs either side of your body and your arm propping him up on your hip. "That cool with you?"
Lucas grins and shakes his head up and down excitedly. "I'm the third oct-pus," he beams, and you can't help but chuckle.
"I know," you scrunch your nose up at him and walk over to the door where Brittany is, setting him to the floor and crouching to meet his height. "And here's me thinking there wasn't even one."
Brittany giggles at your sarcasm, Lucas looks confused, and you can't help but smile up at her at the sound when your son ignores your comment and goes off talking gibberish about octopi's number one and two and how the third one is always the best.
Even after all this time, you could listen to her laugh on repeat and never tired of it, but you seriously need to stop getting distracted by every little thing she does. You know it's only because you're rapidly approaching Friday when you're going to talk to Brittany about the status of your relationship, and you're super nervous. Now adding that Quinn's stuck her oar in and rattled your plan, you have no idea what or how you're going to do it and it's making you feel all sorts of uneasy.
It's a problem, but it's a problem for another time and you flash a smile towards your ex as they begin walking out the door.
"Everything okay?" Brittany questions, pausing briefly before stepping out into the hallway and you curse the sky, wishing she didn't know you so damn well.
But you still try to lie. "Great," you breathe, and it's about convincing as you can possibly make it, but blue eyes still linger on your brown ones for a beat too long, calling bullshit without words before Brittany's accepting your answer quietly and muttering, "bye, San," as she disappears down the hallway with your son.
You hate that she didn't press you, but it's one of the things you have to accept now.
/
I've already written most of this fic, so expect regular updates. If you liked, please let me know! Thank you for reading!