Title: Above The Moon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 10.5k
Summary: She really is here. Brittany is here, and you think over the past 10 years without her, trying to figure out how destiny didn't bring you back together sooner, but you guess it just wasn't the right time.
Notes: At this point, I'm just laughing at the hater/haters. Whoever is enjoying, I'm glad you are and that's all that matters :)
/
The next morning, you wake up alone.
It's by choice, as when you walked Mona back to her apartment last night, and she dangled her keys in a classic 'kiss me' moment, which you did – just a peck – you pulled back and told her that you aren't a first date sleepover kind of girl.
Which is a total lie, as you've had more one night stands than you can count, but something just didn't sit right even though you enjoyed your evening and instead of looking forward to finding out what Mona's apartment was like, you chose that heading home and texting Brittany was far more of a priority.
She could've been worrying about where you'd been for the night, and so you'd kissed Mona on the cheek as you said goodbye, telling her you'd call and went your separate ways.
(You managed to get one foot in the door before your phone was buzzing, and Brittany was calling you to see how your evening was.)
(You'd only sent one text in the short journey back, but it made you feel good that she was eager to talk to you, not just text, so whatever.)
(Although you did end up lying and told her you were going out for drinks with a few business associates, and you don't know why.)
(You think she knew you were lying, but she didn't press if she did.)
Anyway, you know that at some point, you're going to tell Brittany about Mona as there's no reason not to but seeing as you're so freaking nervous about flying home and telling your parents about your situation, that takes over your mind and before you know it, you've got your suitcase packed and you're in the back of a cab, heading to Brittany's building. You text her when you get there, telling the driver you'll give him a nice tip if he's patient and dart out the car, rushing to the stoop when Brittany comes out to help her with her bags.
She smiles bashfully, in a way that another blonde did last night when you walked that one back to her apartment as manners are a rarity nowadays and you have them, and you have to look away to conceal the expression that passes over your face. You know you look guilty, and she's always been able to see that, but you don't pull focus, scared she'll ask you why you're being weird, and instead help her into the cab.
The journey to the airport is short, and it feels like the flight is even shorter, and then you've gone back in time to last weekend as you get off the plane and waiting in the luggage carousal room, except this time you're the one bouncing in your spot from nerves as you look around Columbus airport. You haven't come back in such a long time, and when you head outside and hail down a car, you remember why.
But Brittany's right there, grabbing your hand and smiling at you softly and before you know it, you're rolling up outside your parents' house in Lima. You've got your head buried so far into panicking and figuring out the easiest way of telling them the news – if there even is one – that you don't realise how tight the grip on your hand is until the taxi driver clambers out, heading round the car to grab your luggage out the back and you're turning to look at her.
She's zoned in on your parents' house, her eyes clouded over, and you can only tell she's breathing by the slight rise and fall of her chest, otherwise you'd have a hard time hearing it. Because you're so hyper-focused on staring at her, brows furrowing deeper the longer you do it, the sound of the boot slamming shut scares both of you, both jumping up and then you're breathing hard, finding blue eyes snapping around to you.
But all you see is her full expression now; how her eyes are still clouded, how her skin is a few shades paler than they were a minute ago and you've known this girl for years now. Admittedly, with a large break in between, but you've still known her so it's easy to recognise when she's nervous, and unsure of how she's feeling and when you drag your eyes back out the window, the pieces fall into place.
She's nervous and being here is bringing back a thousand memories which is making her feel like that.
Memories that you didn't even think of, because you were so up in your head about telling your parents, but now you're faced with the exact same thought that you're sure went through her head a minute ago, as suddenly the house seems bigger than it was a second ago. The door seems larger, the sheer size almost daunting now and the breath you try to take lodges in your throat, as another flurry of memories – like your first kiss, your first sleepover, a lot of firsts that happened inside that freaking house – all of the things you did when you were younger, when you were together, flood through your mind and FUCK.
You really wish you'd thought about this before. How are you going to do this? You, and Brittany, are going to be spending the entire weekend here – both days – underneath the same roof that you technically fell in love in. There are millions of memories associated with this place and last weekend, at the Pierce's, it was more manageable because you hadn't been to that state, you hadn't created memories there, but here… You very much have.
A lot of stuff went down inside that house, and it shakes you to your core as you suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing thickly and meeting blue eyes again. You don't know what to say, so the thing that comes out is the only thing that springs to mind.
"You okay?"
Brittany nods immediately, too quick for it to be a truthful response, and wets her lips, trying a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm fine–I just…" Her voice trails off, and she's breathless, just like you are, so you know she's on the same mental wavelength. "Seeing your parents' house just brought back some memories," she sighs, and your chest locks up.
Which is weird, as it should be more comforting now that she's in the same boat as you – you think she was in it before you were – but this thing between you isn't normal. Having a baby with your ex isn't something that happens often as it's dangerous territory, and because you spent last weekend together at her parents, you just thought it would be a simple repeat of that.
Although you did sleep together, then promised not to do it even though you've had that conversation a lot already, but this is like stepping on a field of mines, buried beneath the dirt as if that happens again, you don't think it'll be so easy to sidestep. You have no idea where one of those mines is going to go off, or if they're even live any more, but it feels testing, and you hate yourself for not casting a single thought towards the possibility even though you don't think it's on the cards anyway.
If you'd just thought about it, you could've reminded yourself that no, having sex is going to get messy – especially with the whole Mona thing that's yet to be aired – and just consoled her, like she did with you last weekend as you were nervous as hell about seeing the Pierce's after all that time has passed.
You could've got your head out of your ass and made sure she was okay, but as per freaking usual, you were so self-involved panicking over how to tell your parents that she's pregnant, that you haven't thought about how weird it would be to be back here, with her, in the place where your faded relationship started. Now you're kicking yourself, clicking your tongue and shaking your head in disappointment as you've got too many plates to spin now.
You need to tell your parents about the pregnancy. You need to tell Brittany about Mona. You need to make sure nothing dangerous happens during this trip and now you've got to control how even you react to being in this place, with her, and how it's going to make both of you feel.
"Yeah," you breathe after a long silence and Brittany's door opens, the driver being on the other end and waiting for her to step out, but just as she goes to move with a lingering stare, there are words leaving your mouth and you're latching on to her wrist, stopping her and her eyes return back to you. "If it's too weird, we can go to a motel or something," you blurt out.
A small smile tugs at the blondes lips, and she shakes her head, not answering you until you slide out the car behind her and that's when she does, turning to you and holding your eye, taking in a deep, unsteady breath. "It'll be fine," she says, and your mind shoots back to Kurt and Blaine's wedding, where she said that as you were dancing and obviously things weren't fine then, so you don't think they're fine now but she's pretending otherwise. "We'll be fine," she adds on and drops a hand, pressing it palm down to her belly and your eyes snap to the movement.
And even though you don't believe her, you don't want to start this weekend off on a bad note, so blissful ignorance is the way to go.
It's the only way you'll be able to hack being here with her as now that's all you can think about.
/
Brittany decided to buy some flowers at the airport, in honour of your parents anniversary, so when they open the door, there's bright smiles, rainbows and sunshine as eyes land on the bouquet, and you suddenly feel better about telling them about your situation. They haven't seen the blonde in years, so you take a step back and watch them drink her in, watch her charm them like she always used to, and it releases a pressure in your chest as you start thinking this isn't going to be so bad after all.
Your mom hugs you, your dad grabs your shoulders and kisses you on the head – he's never been a hugger – and you tell them how much you've missed them, even if it's not entirely true. Obviously you love them, they're your parents, but you like being independent and away from them as they have old school views on a lot of things and that's one of the reasons why you're so nervous to reveal your news.
In fact, the nerves get the better of you for a few good hours. Hours that are spent talking about everything and anything that doesn't involve the real reason you came here, and on the flight over, you told Brittany you'd rather rip the band-air off as quickly as possible, yet here you are doing the exact opposite.
The few times you parents leave the room, or look away, she shoots you a curious stare, but you just pretend not to notice, but then you're being called to the dinner table, and you know this is it. This is the perfect opportunity as it's going to be easier to dodge the insults or judgement when your parents mouths are stuffed full of food, but it still manages to scare the shit out of you.
Your dad's been in way too good of a mood, better than normal – although that's probably due to the impending anniversary – and you're terrified he's going to switch from bright sunshine to a raincloud of fucking doom, and maybe even treat you like a kid, flick you in the ear and send you to your room, once you say it.
But you know you have to, and the perfect moment arises when your mom is serving the dinner, and Brittany's rubbing her foot across your ankle beneath the table, holding your eyes and telepathically telling you that you'll be okay. It doesn't feel like it, as you're already sweating buckets, you've almost dropped your glass of wine three times because your hands are clammy as hell, and no matter how many times you try to wipe it away, the damn feeling just remains and really, you should've sat next to Brittany instead opposite her.
At least she could've held your hand, but you also know your parents have a strict seating policy, and Brittany didn't try to argue with your dad when he pointed to where she's sat now and said that'd be where she would be, and there were two good reasons for you not to speak up either.
He is kind of scary, even if he clearly still has a soft spot for the girl, and the news you're about to share is going to already have an adverse effect on him. The least you can do is allow him to get his way before you reveal his little girl is having a baby, with an ex, when you're not even together, and not planning on it either.
Shit. This is so not going to go well.
Still, you brace yourself, taking in a long, deep breath and open your mouth, the words right there on the tip of your tongue, formed from a lot of practise recently, but then your dad's booming voice is piercing your ears and you wince at the sheer volume.
"So, Santana," he starts and looks at you. "Brittany," his eyes dart to her. "We as a family, have plans tomorrow night."
The spark of excitement at your dad referring to the blonde as family is quickly replaced by dread when you think that you probably won't be much of a family after you tell them, but it causes curiosity and your vision shifts to your mom who just smiles back softly, serving the vegetables out on to each plate around the table. She doesn't look like this is going to be bad, and she used to give you a heads up when your dad was on a rampage or doing something you wouldn't enjoy, so you think you're good.
"What plans?" You ask and Brittany's eyes snap to you. She's thinking the same thing.
Your dad grins and in a very atypical father way, leans his elbows on the table and rests on them. "As you know, tomorrow is our wedding anniversary," he explains.
Brittany returns to stroking her foot around your ankle, up to your calf. It's meant to be comforting, but when she reaches your knee, your mind wanders – you're freaking human and it's her touching you – and you shoot her a sharp glare to get her to stop. She does, sucking her lips in and widening her eyes in a way that you think is meant to be apologetic, but when you register the twinkle in blue eyes, you realise it was totally on purpose, and shortly after comes the second realisation that she did it to stop you from being so nervous and to distract you.
Your leg has now stopped jigging beneath the table, so you guess it worked.
"And your mother and I have hired out the town hall," your dad continues and sweeps out his hands. "We're throwing a party!"
Parties are totally your thing. You used to go to every one you could during college and became known in the world of partying – you can dance, sing, and you're hot as hell and not afraid to show it – but with the knowledge of information you're about to share, you're not so sure it's such a good idea, and the blood drains from your face at the same time the foot beneath the table stills on your shin.
"What?" You ask, trying not to sound too breathless but the way Brittany looks at you makes you think otherwise. "A party?"
"Yes, mija," your mom chimes in, handing out each plate until they're in front of everyone and then takes her seat, folding her napkin neatly over her lap. "Just like we did at 20 years, and at 15," her eyes dart between you and Brittany. "You remember that one, don't you two?"
Both you and Brittany nod, but you can't help but gulp because fuck. If you tell them now, and there's a party tomorrow, and it doesn't go well, you might be uninvited to the party which will lead to endless bullshit family drama as you have thousands of relatives that will no doubt ask where you are if you aren't there, and you so don't need that with how your life is changing already.
Apparently, it shows on your face, because your mom registers the lack of reply and frowns at you, her smile faltering. "What's wrong, Santana?"
On one hand, this party is going to be so much easier than any others and you're mom is clearly happy with you bringing Brittany to one of them as she isn't a stranger you picked up in a bar and your mom always used to give you hell for it, but on the other, that's without them knowing you've knocked her up and with their values… You really can't see it going well.
So you don't really know how to answer that, and instead take a long moment, your heart racing, skin sweating, leg jiggling again beneath the table and sink your teeth so hard into your bottom lip as the voice inside your head screams, trying to scramble for how to reply without just blurting out your news. That's no way to tell them, but after an excruciating amount of time, everyone is still staring at you, Brittany's now nudging you and you know you have to say something.
Maybe not the news straight up, but you can beat around the bush to prepare yourself for it.
"I-I'm not so sure it's a good idea if we come," you finally get out, and in your peripheral vision, you see Brittany freeze, hands on the table, clutching on to her cutlery.
"Why not, mija?" Your mom urges you on by reaching over and settling a hand over the back of yours, like it's going to comfort you, but it has the total opposite effect.
Instead, it makes panic seize through your chest, your breathing picking up until you're panting, and you know you just have to say it. You've spent a whole week screwing yourself up over this, unable to take any comfort from Brittany, or Rachel, or Mercedes, and now there are three sets of eyes on you – two quizzical, one concerned – and the pressure builds inside.
Your dad is half-glaring, braced against the table and the pressure finally peaks, making your blood boil and for a moment, everything just sort of goes blurry around the edges as you remove your hand from beneath your moms, dropping it to your lap to join the other one so they don't see you picking your nails.
And you just go for broke.
"Brittany's pregnant with my baby."
/
There's a too long silence after your announcement.
Your mom freezes, her hand still stretched across the table and her eyes growing wide as her body leans back into her chair, completely stumped, and your dad stays completely still, too.
You're not sure which reaction you prefer, but you think your mom's as you can at least tell she's processing it, but your dad looks like he wants to take your head clean off and you force your gaze away from him, staring right at Brittany who nods her head at you, trying to calm you down but the way her face is screwed up is so not helping in doing that.
She doesn't break though, just keeps your eyes and you can hear her voice in the back of your head, telling you to breathe but that's easier said than done. It's like your lungs have been restricted to half capacity and your leg continues jiggling beneath the table, your once-clammy now soaked hands rub up and down at your thighs and every nerve inside your body is sparking like a live wire.
You genuinely don't think you've ever been this nervous before.
"C-could you say that again?" Your mom is the first to speak, and you out the corner of your eye, you see your dad snap his head to her, and then they're staring like you and Brittany were a second ago.
Still, you know there's no way to back out of it now and shift in your seat, sitting more upright and pushing out your chest as you inhale. "Brittany's pregnant," you repeat and swallow thickly, vision flicking between your parents. "We're having a baby together," you follow up, just in case the first explanation wasn't clear enough.
Whichever it was, either the repetition or elongated answer, seems to spark the first reaction and much to your surprise, it's your dad. He shoots to his feet, towering over the table now and you feel your heart skip a beat, breath hitch in your throat as you glance up at him, already wincing as you prepare yourself for the flick in the ear, or even just yelling.
You're pretty prepared for both.
"Santana…" He grits out, and your teeth clench together so hard your face starts to ache. "Santana, that's…" He starts and at the last second, you steal the sight of blue eyes one last time, almost hearing Brittany gulp as her foot hooks around your ankle, and it's as close to holding hands as you can get but fuck, you need it. Then you slam your eyelids shut, feeling like your life is about to flash before your eyes as you're pretty certain it's about to come to a swift end.
Except…
It doesn't.
"That's amazing, mija!" Your dad screeches, his entire face lighting up and you almost fall out of your chair, jumping at the sheer volume as you watch him. His hand presses to his chest, his other one shooting out to grab at your mom's as she does exactly the same thing, and then they're beaming a grin, eyes shifting with glee between you and Brittany…
But you don't get it.
"I'm gonna be a grandpappy!" Your dad continues and your mom breaks into a sob, your parents clutching at each other.
Your face twists, brows push together and confusion pulses through you as this is not what you were expecting, and you're not the only one who thinks that as you glance across the table to Brittany, equally as baffled but her mouth is open. What the fuck? Why are they crying with happiness? Why are they not ripping your head off and doing everything you imagined they'd be doing in the past week?
You have no idea, and the curiosity gets so much, the feeling that you're in a dream, envisioning something you never thought holding strong that you just have to ask. "You're not mad?"
"God, no," your mom chokes and wipes at her eyes, scurrying around the table to throw her arms around your shoulders, hugging you backwards.
Your dad moves behind Brittany, his hand falling to her shoulder and squeezing, but you just keep your eyes on Brittany, watching her still as hesitant as you are.
There was a time, back when you were teenagers, where you were sat at the table just like you are now, telling your parents you were dating Brittany, and their reaction then wasn't fantastic. Mostly because your abuela was in the other room and overheard, and she told you to leave, not to return until she had left and well… That wasn't great.
But this isn't anything like this. This is just joy, and happiness, and such a lack of negative reaction that you're finding it hard not to be immediately suspicious.
Well, until your mom continues talking.
"You're finally settling down!"
FUCK.
The shock quickly disappears, instead converting into realisation and your eyes return to Brittany who's already looking back, having figured it out before you. Your mouth drops open, matching hers but it's dry and you try to reach for a drink, but your hand shakes so much that you just drop it to the table and eventually, drag it back on your lap as your mind races with something to say.
They think you're together.
They think you're having a baby and it was like, planned.
They think that you and Brittany are dating and are taking the next step to putting another name on the Lopez bloodline.
DOUBLE FUCK.
"Mr and Mrs Lopez," Brittany says, her voice wavering and she looks right at you, swallowing, almost asking if she can take this one but she's going to have to. You've just announced the pregnancy, so it's taken half your energy, and you really weren't expecting them to jump to (completely reasonable) expectations so you nod sharply. "Santana and I–"
"Now, now, Brittany…" Your dad interrupts and you watch her mouth slam shut, but the fear grow in her eyes. She can't say it either.
TRIPLE FUCK.
"You can still call us Alma and Michal," he says and squeezes her shoulder, but your eyes just remain on him, brain scrambling to find a way to explain this without receiving the reaction you know will follow, but you can't let them assume you're together. You can't lead them astray as that'll probably cause way more issues than just telling them the truth, but for a second, you do seriously consider it.
How hard would it be to just pretend?
No. Shit. You can't think that. That's the chicken shit route out of this.
"Do as he tells you, Brittany… You're family now," your mom carries on and squeezes you one last time before rounding the table again and throwing herself into Brittany, crying but happily as her eyes dart between you, bright and full of excitement. "You've always have been, but more officially this time and we can make the announcement tomorrow."
That's the second shock to the system, but you're still entirely fucked by the first one. You know you need to say something, but Brittany's already tried, you're acting like you swallow your damn tongue, and it just seems out of reach. You have to get through this though, push past the fear and do what you really don't want to freaking do as this reaction is so much better than the one you came up with in your head.
But you won't be deceitful.
You open your mouth, finally summoning the strength to correct them, but then your dad is shooting you a wink and returning to his chair, slowly sitting back down with palms pressed to the table as he asks, "When's the wedding?"
And there it is.
Actually, it's worse than you thought because you thought that reaction was based off them assuming you two are together, but apparently it's because they think you two are engaged. That you two are doing the traditional marriage thing when having a kid, like the old folks used to do back in the day, and that's so not what's happening. But that's so much worse because now you not only have to tell them you're not even dating, but that you won't be tied to the tradition that your family holds on to so strongly.
It's one of the reasons your abuela stopped talking to you after you came out. She doesn't believe in homosexuality, and luckily your parents aren't as old school so they're okay with that, but not with having a kid out of wedlock and that's why you were so damn terrified of telling them in the first place. So, really, you shouldn't be shocked, but imagining it is so much worse than living it and FUCK…
What the hell are you supposed to answer?
"Michal," Brittany clears her throat, clearly sensing your complete inability to think of anything other than hot panicked thoughts, but you can't let her take this.
You need to be the one to say it, so you do. "Britt," you say, the first thing that's left your mouth since you asked why they weren't mad, and they weren't, but you're about to give them a reason to be. "I got this," you follow up and watch your mom pull away from the blonde, keeping her arm wrapped around her but shooting you a quizzical stare. "Uh, so…" You clear your throat, shifting uncomfortably and let out a long breath through 'o' shaped lips, trying to find zen, but that's way out of reach. "I think you guys have misunderstood," you push out and you hear your dad's neck click as his eyes snap to you. "W-we're not getting married… Nor are we t-together," you stammer and drop your eyes to the table.
It's the moment of truth.
An eery silence follows, and you wait for one, two, three seconds before lifting your gaze and finding your dad back to the first expression after the news left your lips. His eyes are narrowed, his stare intense and you gulp, an icy fear wrapping around your lungs until you have to open your mouth to breath. You're literally fucking panting, and so fucking scared of what they're going to do but you know you have to face it.
You knew their first reaction was too good to be true.
"What?" Your mom gasps, and your vision flicks back to her to find Brittany staring at you still, brows pinched together, lips sucked into her mouth and sadness in her eyes. She can already tell what's coming, too.
"You aren't getting married?" Your dad grits out, leaning his elbows on to the table and twisting his head, ear directed towards you like his age is showing and hearing has deteriorated.
It hasn't.
"No, papi," you mutter, knowing as much as you two could pretend, you don't actually think you're emotionally capable of pretending to be in love with someone you genuinely were in love with once upon a time. That'll just throw back old feelings and you'll probably end up falling into the same trap, back to where you were when you were just a teenager.
"Santana," your dad hisses, and you wince immediately, steeling yourself as you look back to him and hold his eyes. "What are you talking about? You can't have a child and not get married."
This is exactly what you were prepared to hear from them, however despite all that preparation, you didn't think of a single thing you'd reply with and now you fucking hate yourself for that. Even a few pre-prepared answers, jotted down in the back of your brain, would be better than the silence coming from you. You even did some research to see where the whole frowning upon having a child out of wedlock came from and it was the freaking Bible, so it's bullshit anyway, but it gave you the ability to put a modern twist on things as you found some equally ridiculous 'laws' that the Bible contains.
Like not being allowed to eat animals that have fins and scales and not being able to wear clothing made from two different types of fabric which is standard these days.
But you don't think your dad is going to want to hear that, so you settle with silence and focusing on not breaking the eye contact because you aren't backing down.
He must see it too, his glare diminishing slightly as his lifts his chin to stare down his nose at you, but you're not going to please him by saying you'll marry Brittany because it isn't like that. It's the freaking 21st century and you're not going get married because you're having a baby. Once upon a time, you dreamed of asking her without that reason, and this whole kid thing is already hard enough and if anything ever happens with you two – not that you think it is, but just in case – you wouldn't want to do it the wrong way.
Although you suppose knocking her up isn't exactly her right way, but still.
"Brittany," your dad says, his voice monotone but he's still staring at you. "Would you leave us alone, please?"
You can't help but look at her with pleading eyes, but if she's leaving, then you'll be okay, so you quickly shift your expression. Half of you was terrified your dad would lash out at her, after revealing the whole lack of engagement thing, even though you are in this together, but you don't want his wrath to be directed towards her. Being kind of an asshole as a teenager, you're used to getting a tongue lashing but this is definitely going to be a different kind of tongue lashing, so you don't want her to be here to see or hear it as even the ones back then were bad, and you'd always make sure she was out of earshot.
This one won't go any differently.
(Plus, you know she'd try and stand up for you, and you just need to ride this wave as it's happening regardless, and that's why you think your mom isn't saying anything to back your dad up.)
Brittany seems to be reading your mind, or just knows you better than yourself, and nods her head at you once, politely dismissing her from the table, but you just grip on to your thighs, ready to take what's to come.
/
There's a lot of yelling.
Not from you, as you stay as quiet as a freaking mouse, but you stay sat in your chair, eyes trained on the space Brittany left and listen to your dad doing it as he paces around the table, throwing his hands up in the air with frustration, telling you how you're emotionally immature, that having a baby out of wedlock goes against Lopez family values, and that you're nowhere near ready to have a baby with a friend.
He doesn't touch on the fact you're exes, which you're not sure is a good or a bad thing, and the one time you open your mouth to say something, your mom just comes back around to your side, takes a seat beside you and tries to play the calm, sensible card by basically telling you to shut up by holding your hand beneath the table.
It's like good cop, bad cop, but you bite your tongue and hear them out, even if it's not going to change a thing no matter which way it's explained.
You think two hours pass by the time your dad has finished his rant about way old traditions that no longer apply to this day and age, and your mom somehow persuades him that it's been a long, intense night and this won't be sorted with a simple discussion. It's not going to get 'sorted' at all as you and Brittany aren't together, or getting married, but you hold back on that and take the verbal lashings until your mom says you can go upstairs and smiles softly at you in a way that you think means she understands.
Not that she would say that, but your dad is kind of an asshole and needs time to be rational about things like this. Just because they go against his beliefs, doesn't mean he's right and you're hoping sleeping on it might change his mind and your mom can spoon feed him some empathy.
Anyway, once the opportunity is presented, you almost rip the cloth off the damn table with the speed you get up and bolt up the stairs, hearing your mom start the conversation of what they're going to say to the rest of your family tomorrow at the celebration, but that's really not your problem. That's the last thing on your mind, as you can't even begin to think about how you're going to justify it to them, let alone everyone else, once you find the words, but for now, you sprint to your old bedroom and stumble inside, closing the door shut behind you.
You lean against it, panting hard but the panic subsides, quickly replaced with something warm as your eyes fall upon Brittany, sitting on your bed, book on her lap, back against the headboard, looking way too familiar. It brings back a thousand memories, happy ones that somehow replace the recent one of having your ear chewed off by your dad, and apparently it makes you sigh so loudly that her eyes snap up, body scooting the edge of the bed, book now falling off the side as concern flashes behind blue eyes.
"San?" She says, her voice panicked, and she offers her hands out, kneeling on her knees and wiggling her fingers until you're moving towards her. "What happened? Are you okay? Are we leaving?"
The questions fire at you like bullets leaving a machine gun, and they only add to the list of hundreds your parents just asked, so you close your eyes and take a moment, but then the hands in the air are grabbing at you until she's tugging you down, so you twist and sit on the bed, and she's throwing a leg either side of you to hug you from behind. She used to do this a lot, back when you were teenagers, and it always made you feel safe and comfortable, like nothing bad could ever touch you and the feeling echoes strongly now.
You feel the shit just wash off your shoulders, a weight lift from your chest and you lean back into her, head falling to her shoulder as you stare at the ceiling. This is what you need, and when her hands slide around, fingers lacing through yours and resting on your thighs, you think she knows that.
"It's fine," you reply after a long moment, feeling her breath stutter as it leaves her lips, from where they're hovering by your ear as she leans her chin on your shoulder. "My mom wasn't that bad, and I can handle my dad," you say, even though you can't and if anyone knows it, she does. "He's just old school," you try but she still doesn't speak, so you tilt your head slightly until you can tip your forehead against her temple, your mouth now dangerously close to her jaw but it isn't a calculated move. You just need this to calm down.
She hums lowly, squeezing your hands. "Was he pissed?" She asks quietly, and you can't help but laugh bitterly.
"You could say that."
Brittany pulls back but stays close and you stop breathing when you meet her eyes. They're so freaking blue. "Are you pissed?"
The corners of your lips turn up, but you shake your head as much as you can, backing away and turning, so the back of your head returns to her shoulder, gaze up at the ceiling once more. "Not pissed," you say because you're not. You're just… You don't even know. "It's kind of what I was expecting, so."
Again, she hums but you can hear the cogs turning in her mind and after a couple of seconds, she speaks again. "Do you want me to talk to them? I can go down now and see if they'll listen."
You lift your head, twisting your body so you're sideways now, leg hooking over hers, but she doesn't shift backwards. You know she's scared of your dad, mostly because you're scared of your dad and as charming as she is, and as much history as you have, it boils down to the cold hard facts that your dad won't approve as you're not getting married.
The Lopez family values are a big thing in your world, and it explains why you spent the last week dreading coming here, but with the way she's looking at you, with the way she's offering to take the hit, or at least join in, makes you realise that you two really can get through this.
As long as you're together.
Somehow, you still have this strong bond, something formed years and years ago and still lives to this day, and apparently nothing is going to break it. Having a reaction like your dad did could scare her off, but she's not going anywhere. She's holding on to you, looking you deep in the eye and letting you see the fear behind them, but also letting you know that regardless, she'll do it.
"You'd go down and face the wrath of my dad?" You quirk, a small smile playing at your lips, and she nods her head slowly, blue darting between brown. "After I've just managed to escape?"
Her arms tighten around you, her hands skimming up the back of your shirt and touching hot skin. "I'd do anything for you," she shoots back and the breath lodges in your throat. "To make them understand," she quickly follows, her eyes widening like she just realised what she said.
But you know she didn't mean to add that on, but she has. She has and you don't regret hearing it because you know you'd do anything for her, and she'd do anything for you, but that's not normal. Sure, when you were teenagers you literally would've jumped in front of a bullet for her and okay, you could argue that you'd still do that now because of the life growing inside of her, but even without that… You think you would anyway.
You'd climb the highest mountain, dive into the deepest seas, just to make sure she was happy, and you're starting to think that even after all this time, she'd do that for you, too.
You can't say that though. It'll be dangerous and there are a lot of reasons why you shouldn't tread into that area but…
It's just really fucking tempting.
It's really fucking tempting because she's looking at you like she's waiting for you to call her out on it, but you can't. This place is way too comfortable to do something like that, so much worse than her parents last week because this bed, this room… It's where you fell in love. It's where you spent hours, learning each other and remembering things that to this day, still haven't faded and you don't know how to feel about that.
Because it feels right… but it shouldn't. It shouldn't make you want to kiss her, but when your vision drops to her lips, it's all you can think about.
But no. No.
You can't, so you blink out of your daze and put some space between you, exhaling unsteadily as a small smile comes to your face and you shake your head, using the grip you have on her hands to push up and clamber to your feet. She stares up at you, eyes innocent but the fear still behind them – a different type of fear this time, though… like she thinks she's gone too far – but you just let a short laugh out through your nose and look to the bed behind her, knowing if you correct her, it'll lead to other things.
"It's okay… We can talk to them tomorrow," you get out, through a breath and she studies you for a long moment, sucking her lips in and eyes squinting slightly. "We should go to bed."
"Yeah," she agrees and nods her head, looking like she wants to say something else, but you can't hear it.
You're honestly scared it'll break the last piece of resolve in you.
/
You get changed in the bathroom attached to your room, pulling your hair free from its pony after and head back out.
Brittany's already in bed, looking far too comfortable and she's reading the book she was earlier, and you take in the sight for a long moment before going to your side and setting your phone down. You slide in, the cool sheets gliding across your skin, and she shoots you a smile as she puts the book on the side table and flicks off the light, turning to face you as you both settle in, and it should feel weird, but it doesn't.
There hasn't even been discussion of her sleeping anywhere else, not from either of you or your parents, and the thought of whether she's okay with it does pop into your mind, but when she was sent upstairs she came into here, so you think she's okay with it.
Apparently, you're not the only one to think it, because as your mouth opens to check, she's already asking. "I am sleeping in here, right?"
Your face scrunches up and you laugh, bobbing your head. "Yeah, Britt."
"Your parents aren't gonna be mad?"
Again, you laugh and a grin spreads across her face at the sound. "I think they've got other things to be mad about, right now," you reply and shrug your shoulder as much as you can as her hand creeps across the bed towards your hip, finger tracing the protruding bone there. It makes you calm almost immediately, the panic of your words not even registering because that's a tomorrow problem and you think that's why she does it. "And we're adults, so."
Brittany hums, sucking her lips into her mouth and even in the darkness, you see her blue eyes drop to her hand, now crawling up to round your body, palm pressing flat into your spine until you're wiggling closer, legs tangling down the end of the bed. "I'm sorry," she whispers, so quietly you almost don't hear it, but you do and narrow your eyes. "It sucks they weren't as cool with it as my parents were."
Your jaw clenches and you sigh loudly. "It's fine," you get out through a thickened throat, ignoring the urge to shiver when her fingertips begin dancing up the notches of your spine, beneath your shirt. She's still trying to comfort you and you kind of hate she knows it's not fine, but you can handle it. You have to.
Still though, your mind begins wandering as you're hyper aware you're lying in bed together, in your parents' house, which holds memories from years ago, and once upon a time, you dreamt about being like this again. You spent the following few months of her leaving Lima, in the exact same position but she wasn't here, and now she is and it's all a rush to the head.
So before you can do something stupid, you snuggle up to her, ducking your head and rolling her over so you can throw an arm around her waist and get closer. Like she was expecting it, she adjusts until her arms are wrapped around you, and you close your eyes because you're not looking at her anymore, so you think you're safe, and you both fall into a comfortable silence, her fingertips returning to stroke over your soft skin and shit, that's not helping taking your mind off the track it's on.
Because it's not arousing. It's not making you feel like you could rip her clothes off and that kind of scares you more. You feel like you want to be intimate with her, to hold her and fall asleep in each other's arms and the sex wasn't confusing, but that would be. That's the type of shit that you shouldn't do, that you want to but know you can't, but it seems you're not the only one on that brainwave as she nudges your head with her shoulder until you tilt your head back up and peer up through long lashes into ocean blue eyes.
"Whatever comes tomorrow…" She starts and pauses, holding your eye. "You'll be safe with me," she whispers and it's such a simple sentence, but it holds a thousand unspoken words. "I promise."
And you've never believed anyone more.
You've never heard those words leave anyone's mouth in the way they just did with her, and you feel the walls around your heart drop as you stare up at her. She doesn't break it, just strokes a single finger with her spare hand beneath your chin, along your jaw, and you resist the urge to gasp, knowing exactly what she wants to do based off the action.
It's how she kissed you, the very first time when you were teenagers, and without conscious thought, you find yourself propping yourself up on your elbow, cocking your head to the side as you look down at her, hair splayed against the pillow and eyes wide and scared like she's realised you know what she just did and why she did it.
She might just be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, even to this day and even after seeing hundreds and hundreds of faces over the past 10 years, and you really shouldn't be doing this because you know what you're doing. You know she does too, as her hand doesn't drop from your face, instead slides to your cheek to hold it and her thumb rubs across your bottom lip, and this is the type of shit you were trying to avoid because it's making you feel way too vulnerable.
It's making you feel like you could fall in love with her, all over again.
Because being here, with her gazing up at you with innocence in her eyes, is taking you back in time and you should be thinking about the fear that isn't creeping into your chest – like it has done before – but you can't. All you can think about is how you will be safe, how she will protect you and you're sure of it as you'd do the same thing for her, and that's something you've never been able to control.
She's just your kryptonite, and you two have a connection that makes every other one pale in comparison.
So you don't fight it, instead letting the thumb finish its trail across your bottom lip as your mouth drops open, before you slide your hand to her waist, hand gripping at her hip. The breath hitches in her throat, and you should probably ask if it's okay, but she's already confirming it by tangling her fingers into dark locks, securing your face above hers and so instead, you just spare one final glance in blue eyes before closing the gap, pausing at the very last second to close your eyes before you push your lips to hers.
/
It goes fast forward from there.
One second, you're stroking your tongue into her mouth, finding yourself between her legs as her hands glide up your back, beneath your shirt, then the next, you're undressing each other and watching as her head snaps back against the pillow as you push inside of her, hearing the way your name leaves her lips through a moan. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and you stutter out a shaky breath, hands grabbing for hers until they're either side of her head, and you kiss her again as you start to move.
Her legs wrap around you, keeping you impossibly close and you two shouldn't be doing this. There are a multitude of reasons why, including the fact you're going on another date when you go back to LA next week – which you're yet to tell Brittany about – and the fact you two are supposed to be just friends and sex is becoming a regular thing apparently, but you just can't control how you feel or act around her.
It's like being woken up after a too long sleep that you didn't know you needed. It's like getting a hit after resisting a drug for too many years. It's like taking that first breath after being underwater for too long, and so you force those thoughts to the back of your mind as your lips begin mapping her body, wanting to enjoy this rather than finding reasons why you shouldn't be.
You kiss down her jaw, across her throat and nipping gently at her pulse point. You pepper kisses to her collarbones, to her shoulder, then retrace the circle as you move inside of her, pleasure building in your spine. Her nails scratch down your back, moans and groans escaping her lips and you resist the urge to shake as you pick up the speed, slamming into her and hitting that spot that you learned years ago.
"San," she moans, voice breathy and you pull your head back to look into blue eyes, admiring her face as the speed slows, turning from hard and rapid to slow and deep.
She gasps, mouth popping open, and you can't help but smirk, sucking on her bottom lip for a long moment as your hips rotate, pulling the sexiest sound out of her you've ever heard. Sure, you've done this a thousand times, but being older has given you a different perspective on sex and taken away the significance, and you should be applying that right now. It shouldn't feel like it means a lot, but it freaking does when it's with her and you think she knows what you're thinking as she kisses you harder, arms winding around your neck to keep your face close to hers.
Her legs quake, the start of her orgasm creeping up on her even though you've only been doing this for a matter of minutes, but you know it's not her being susceptible; it's because you're on the other end. The way she's gazing into your eyes, the kiss having broken as the tempo set is messing it up, is showing you that and it causes the pressure inside of you to treble.
At one particular thrust of your hips, she squeaks, and the corner of your lip pulls up as you release one of her hands, letting it drift down the bed until you can grab at her thigh, lifting her knee to her chest to adjust the angle. It earns another squeak, and you smirk as your lips drop to her neck, ravishing it with open-mouthed kisses.
Long fingers wind into your hair, holding your head and you marvel in the sounds she's making, completely aroused by every single one. You don't think you've ever enjoyed listening to someone you're having sex with, always way more focused on getting yourself off but in this moment, it's making everything so much freaking hotter, and you don't care about yourself.
You don't care about how you're feeling, or how close you are. All you care about is listening to her, making her feel as good as possible, touching every part of her with either your hands or your lips and shuddering when her first orgasm punches through her, the sound of your name escaping her lips through a broken gasp.
"Santan–Fuck," she gets out, unable to form your name properly as she squeals with pleasure.
Heat surges through you, the muscles clenching in waves around your cock and reducing the speed you're moving inside of her as her legs go taut around you. There's sweat coating your skin, making you slip a little more than intended but you don't care about that either. Nothing else matters, like the outside world doesn't exist when you two are like this and she tugs your head, cradling your skull until she can kiss you deeply, her tongue dipping into your mouth as she twitches uncontrollably through her climax.
It's a moment of weakness for you, as you exhale heavily through your nostrils, feeling your own ending rapidly approaching and it seems Brittany gets that, her hands moving from your head to your back, palms splaying across your skin and pulling against her and for a second, you're confused – you two literally can't be any closer without merging into one – but then she's holding you and rolling, legs bracketing your hips.
Now she's on top, keeping her chest mashed against yours and brings your mouths together, kissing you fiercely like she never wants to stop doing this. You pick back up on the previous speed, burying yourself as deeply as possible and dragging your cock out until only the tip is inside, and she whimpers loudly, teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the motion.
You do it again, and again, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that you should be concentrating on galloping into your own orgasmic bliss, but you're way too enamoured watching her face as you fuck her. There's a crinkle in her eyebrow, her eyes are squeezed shut and cheeks flushed a dark pink, and it brings back memories from when you were teenagers, and you'd stare at her and see the exact same expression, totally dazed by the sight despite being in the throes of passion.
Over time, you'd convinced yourself that the sex you two had was always so intense, and that you'd stare like you are now, because it was the first person you'd ever been with, but now… Now you're realising that you've never been so drawn to someone. You've slept with your fair share of women, and you've never enjoyed watching how they look when you're inside of them, but with Brittany… You just can't look away.
"Britt," you choke, not even aware you've said her name until blue eyes snap open and a too soft smile graces her lips.
On weak arms, she props herself up on to her elbows, not disturbing the thrusting and her hips slam down on to you, but she doesn't break the stare. Instead, she holds it, eyes fighting to stay open when you bury deeply inside of her, moving your hands to her hips and controlling them, rocking her hips into a downward grind. She whimpers, you do too, and the way she looks at you makes fireworks implode low in your spine, drop kicking you towards the end until you're struggling to hold back, breath shallow.
You're so close, but you don't want this to end, and you think she knows it, but still, she bumps her nose against yours, keeping her lips right below yours and whispers, "Come for me," and you all about die.
That's so not going to help, but when you manage to get a proper look at her face, pushing the back of your head hard into the pillow, you register the smirk and holy shit, you've never been so turned on before. She knows exactly what she's doing to you, knows exactly what to say to make arousal strike through you, quick like lightning and so fucking warm, and you gasp for one final breath before the pressure hits the limit and you're tipping over the edge, jerking messily as you release into her.
"Fuck," you groan, your fingertips digging into the skin of her hips so hard you think you might leave a bruise, but she doesn't let up, rutting her hips down and elongating your pleasure until she's coming again, clenching so hard around your cock you think you might actually pass out from how good she feels.
"Ugh, San," she moans, joining in with the dirty, dirty sounds leaving your mouth, still rolling her hips.
Barely a second later, you're both collapsing heavily, all muscles relaxing as Brittany falls into your neck, panting hard against your skin as you move your hands up to her back, fingertips stroking up and down.
Then she rolls on to the mattress, both of you wincing at the loss of contact but you just pull her close, tangling limbs together and holding her close as you both fall into a peaceful, post-coital daze.
/
Thank you to anyone contributing positively :)