Title: Above The Moon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 9.8k
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: Glad you like Brittany's softer side! I love the next few chapters and hope you will too :)
/
In the morning, you wake up first.
You open your eyes, stretching your arms above your head and the ache in your muscles is way too familiar not to recognise, and the memories of last night flash back to you in a second until you're rolling your head to the side, finding Brittany right next to you, still sound asleep and looking achingly beautiful. It clenches at your heart, a soft smile gracing your lips and you take full advantage of being able to drink in the sight without any judgement, knowing there really shouldn't be opportunities like this.
But there are much bigger fish to fry today, so you shake yourself out of it and quietly creep out of bed, grabbing some clothes out your drawer – Brittany unpacked, apparently – before heading to the shower. You leave the door open a little, making sure that if she wakes up, she doesn't think you've ditched her and it only takes a few minutes of being under the water before you hear a light knocking and wipe the wet away from your face, peeking out to see Brittany poke her head around the other door, blue eyes meeting brown and sparkling immediately.
(You almost slip over but thank God your parents swapped the shower curtain for a door, or you'd be going to the ER.)
"Hey," you breathe, watching how she sheepishly smiles at you, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she hovers in the doorway. "You okay?"
It's a dumb question, mostly because you feel fucking fantastic thanks to her and because of last night, but you know you two shouldn't be sleeping together as it's probably unhealthy and, oh yeah, you're going on a date with someone else and still haven't freaking told her about that.
But today isn't for that, you know it, and she seems to sense that the discussion can wait as she sidesteps the question and shuffles inside, wearing a long t-shirt as she perches on the toilet seat.
"Are you okay?" She asks and crosses one leg over the other, which makes you avert your gaze as you're freaking naked, she's not dressed in much and pretending like you're in your own little bubble rather than facing your parents seems like the best idea to do, albeit not the wisest, but you're only human.
Still, you hold her eye and bob your head, the fluffiness after effect from last night quickly disappearing as your brain process then question, being replaced with something colder, something heavier, but you don't want her to see that. If you're going to make it through this morning, you really need to play the blissful ignorance card that always helps you ignore the important shit in life and Brittany has a habit of making you soft, and you really can't do that now.
So you show her that with a quick smile and no actual words, before sucking your lips into your mouth and returning your head beneath the shower, washing out the shampoo in your hair and thankfully, the time you spent together as teenagers still runs strong and she takes it as a sign to change the topic.
"Do you wanna go get ice cream for lunch and see what our old school looks like now?" Brittany chirps, her voice changing from serious to playful.
You let out a short laugh through your nose, squeezing your eyes shut as you begin washing your body. It should feel weird to shower in front of her, but thankfully the glass door has that fuzzy film stuff on it so if Brittany can see you, it'll only be the outline. Plus, you did have sex last night, so this really isn't that bad and so you just go with it. You really need a distraction as you're almost done in the bathroom, and that means it'll be time to go downstairs and talk to your parents.
Something you're dreading.
"Yeah, that sounds good," you say and finish off your shower before leaning back around the shower door and wiping the water off your face.
There's a towel being handed to you, and you flash a grateful smile at her as you step out to take it, the air chilling your skin and making goosebumps form, and glance up to find Brittany, a little breathless as she looks over you, folding her arms across her chest like she's resisting reaching out and warming you up.
You honestly don't think you could control yourself if she did.
"Are you okay?" She repeats the question from earlier, now you two are face to face and you know it's a sidestep out of the tension rising in the room and move around her to look in the fogged up mirror, swiping it away until you see a blurred reflection.
"I'm fine," you sigh, and you know you can't avoid it this time. She's right behind you and waiting. It's either this topic or thinking about last night and you don't know which one you want to do less; you're scared you'll say something to fuck up and on a day like this, you so don't need it. "But I was thinking, and if my dad is an ass again, then we'll leave," you follow and lift your chin up, staring at yourself through the mirror, eyes flitting over your shoulder as Brittany tilts her head to the side, cheek sucked into her mouth like she doesn't like what you said.
"We've got support from everyone back in LA and I know my mom is cooler about it than he is," you continue explaining and these thoughts were in your head before but saying them out loud is like you're trying to convince yourself that you have the strength to cut your dad out if he doesn't adjust. You're not sure you do, but you aren't backing down on this. Last night went to prove that you really will be safe with Brittany, regardless of the outcome. "So he can either like it or not."
"San," Brittany says, but it comes across more like a warning and you drop your gaze to the basin, knowing where she's coming from, but you're standing by it. "I was serious," she adds and steps forward until you feel the hairs at the back of your neck stand up as she breathes out. "I can go and talk to them first… It might help."
You shake your head and spin around, tucking the edges of your towel underneath your arm. "We can do it together," you reply, and she straightens up, her lips sucking into her mouth like she wants to say more, but you don't.
You know she could probably make things better by going and talking to them, as she has done in the past when you told your parents you were gay and dating her, but this is different. It's already hard enough sleeping together – that's starting to grind on you and not in a way you want to think about – and you need to put some type of wall up. Now that you've realised what Kurt and Mercedes went when they were talking about your history together, it's all that's running through your head.
Getting comfortable with her, in the place where you fell in love 10 years ago, is not good. It's taken sleeping together again to realise it and last weekend at her parents wasn't good either – even though it really was, in the same way this one has been – but you need to screw your head on right because this could lead into something else, which neither of you want, and you're being constantly reminded by the voice in the back of your brain that there's another blonde in your life that's temporarily occupying that space.
You've had this chat, and you know you need to be honest about how attracted you are to each other, but everything is getting so much that you're a little overwhelmed. Just being in the bathroom with her is testing you, and that's really not what you should be focusing on as you could potentially be disowned when you eventually find the strength to go downstairs, so you need to change your mindset.
The walls are coming up – albeit not far – but it's progress.
(Even if it feels completely unnatural.)
"Okay," Brittany finally sighs and takes a step back, which is only small but right now, with the way you're feeling, it feels like a fair distance. "I'll leave you to get changed," she adds on and without another word, walks out the bathroom with a barely there smile.
/
After getting changed, you find Brittany waiting on the bed.
She ducks into the bathroom, quickly showering and within 10 minutes, she's ready and you two head to the stairs, sharing a look at each other as the nerves set in. She holds your eyes, studying you and you force yourself to look away as you can't be vulnerable right now. Not with what you're about to face downstairs, but it seems she gets that because instead of saying anything, or making you look at her again, she loops her pinky finger around yours and squeezes.
It gives you a strength you didn't know you needed, mostly because you're so reliant on yourself nowadays that it's strange when you find support from someone else that doesn't come with any strings attached and take a deep breath before going down to find your parents in the kitchen.
Your dad is sat at the breakfast counter, newspaper in hand and your mom is twirling around, handling various pans and when you get closer, you see she's made breakfast. Confusion and suspicion hits strong, as you're sure if they had the same attitude as they did last night, they wouldn't be making you and Brittany breakfast, and something inside your chest releases.
At least if they're doing that, they're not planning on kicking you out on your ass the second you tell them that your mind won't be changed and that they can either accept it or lose you from here out, but breakfast is a good sign.
Still, the sight makes you feel uneasy (you're a cynic), and you swallow thickly, filling your lungs and Brittany squeezes your pinky as you both move to the spare stools, sliding into them. Two sets of eyes flash to you, and your dad drops his newspaper, his face hard and stern, brows furrowed as his vision darts between you and the blonde, but you just do the same thing you did last night and stare at him in dead silence.
If he's waiting for you to argue, he'll be waiting a long ass time. This is happening, and you know more than ever that sometimes silence speaks volumes and regardless of what you're parents think, you and Brittany are having this baby.
"Did you two sleep well?" Your mom chirps, not bothering with a greeting as she swoops in and begins dishing out the food.
You narrow your eyes, but the voice in the back of your head begins screaming as you remember how you fell asleep; wrapped up in Brittany's arms and that's totally not appropriate to think about right now, so you just bob your head, not taking your eyes off your dad who's still glaring at you.
"Yeah, thanks, ma," you say, and Brittany reaches over beside you, grabbing the jug of orange juice and pouring out a glass for each of you.
Your dad decides that it's the appropriate moment to speak up, apparently not wanting the fluffy filler conversation before getting to the hard bit, and you kind of like that. The last thing you want is to be screamed at when you've just come downstairs, but if you're going to face it, you don't want to be lured into a kind situation under false pretences. You've always preferred when he's just lost his shit and you've dealt with it all at once.
"Girls," he starts, and you feel Brittany go rigid beside you, but then there's a hand creeping underneath the table, nudging your thigh until you can link your pinky through hers again and she lets out a quiet exhale, like she's preparing herself and she needed to touch you to do that. You would smile, but your dad's looking at you with an expression you can't read and you're kind of bricking it. Your heart has started beating faster, breath coming out faster and you lift your chin as his dark eyes dart between you and Brittany slowly.
This is it.
"Your mom and I have spoke long and hard about this," he says and clasps his hands together, elbows on the table as your mom settles down on to a stool. You're not sure if that's a good thing, so you shift your gaze to her, but she just smiles weakly. You really don't know what's going to happen. "And we've concluded that you and Brittany are old enough to make your own decisions," he continues, and you swear you stop breathing completely.
Brittany's pinky tightens around yours, and shock hits you hard, colliding with your chest and your mouth becomes unable to control itself as it falls slack, head twisting just in case you didn't hear him right.
Did he just back down?
"W-what?" You manage to get out when he makes no move to continue talking and you just look to your mom who bobs her head.
"And we still want you to come to the party tonight," your dad leans back in his seat and folds his arms, not bothering to repeat the first part, but that tells you something.
Somehow… Some-freaking-how your mom managed to talk some sense into him, and you don't know why. The last few times you've bought someone to one of their celebrations or parties or whatever, you've had some random skank on your arm, and she's always lectured you. To be honest, you thought this would go the same, even if Brittany isn't like one of those other girls. Getting her pregnant was irresponsible, but you're hoping that your mom can at least see that you're taking this on the chin, and actually having the kid instead of going the easy way out that many teens did back in your time and that's something you can find yourself being okay with.
Maybe if your mom can see you're changing for the better, your dad might one day, too.
Still, it doesn't mean you're not immediately suspicious.
Last night your dad yelled at you for two hours straight, with your mom doing nothing but holding your hand and telling you not to bite and you didn't. You waited until he was red in the face, the vein in the middle of his forehead bursting through alongside a lot of lecturing phrases and insults before you managed your escape and so to come downstairs to this… To them basically shrugging it off and playing it like it's not a big deal… You don't like it.
Something just isn't sitting right in your gut, and your eyes narrow as you stare between your parents.
(Brittany feels the same, too. She's being way too quiet.)
"You father's friends are all going to be there," your mom picks up and your jaw clenches.
Ah. That explains it a bit more. Your dad doesn't want to show up without you after probably telling them you would be.
"And there's something else…" She trails off and for the second time in 5 minutes, you stop breathing. The pinky around yours tightens again and your eyes slide to the side, registering the way Brittany sucks her lips into her mouth and frowns like she knew something else was coming, too. "You're abuela is coming."
You're not sure what's worse: the complete lack of reaction from your parents that will no doubt bite you in the ass, or the fact that your abuela – the woman who disowned you after you came out – is going to be there tonight.
Sure, she's your dad's mom so her appearance shouldn't come as that much of a surprise, but she didn't come to the 15th wedding anniversary, nor the 20th, so you thought a trend was set. Should it have gone that way, this would be a lot easier to deal with as she wasn't okay with you being a homo, let alone impregnating someone without exactly planning it and abiding by the Lopez family values.
There's no way this isn't going to be a total shitstorm.
However, the longer you think about it though, you quicker you understand that there's a reason why your parents are being so cool about the pregnancy now. Nothing they can say will compare to what your abuela will when she sees you, and frustration burns through your veins, nostrils flaring as you glare at them.
You fucking knew your parents took it too well and now you feel like you've been set up and kind of betrayed.
"Which brings me to my next point," your dad takes over and you bite your tongue, wanting to hear this out completely as you're a conniving bitch and you had to get it from somewhere and this is obviously a plan. Apparently, that characteristic wasn't just from one of your parents; it was from both of them, the bastards. "We need you to do us a favour, and I hope that us being so okay with your…" His hand waves out in front of him, gesturing to you and Brittany and you scowl. "Situation, will entice you to agree."
If it weren't for the fact you knew the second you sat down that something wasn't quite right, you definitely would now. He's trying to freaking bargain with you and you can't remember a time where he pulled a stunt like this. He usually gets his way, using any emotion to do so and he's a generous man, but he has a lot more negatives than positives, in your eyes. Half the time, you don't even know why your mom married him. She's sweet and gentle, and he's an ass.
"And what would that be?" You ask firmly, your voice strong considering you haven't spoken in a couple of minutes and you're aching to scream into the air.
Your mom looks to your dad as she goes to reply, but he just shakes her head and again, you're suspicious when her mouth slams shut.
Your parents are never freaking like this. You spent an entire week working yourself up for a reaction like they had last night and now, it's just gone? The anger, the yelling, the disappointment is no longer showing on their faces and as much as you're thankful for that – it's the best response you could've imagined – you know that you felt that way for a reason.
You just don't know what that reason is.
You spare a glance to Brittany to make sure she's seeing the same thing you are when no-one continues talking because this is just too freaking weird. Her eyes are narrowed, her shoulders are squared, and you've seen her in enough confrontations to recognise the signs that she's getting her back up, prepared to go into full defence mode if necessary. She wouldn't hurt a fly, but she will always stand up for you and you know it.
But you can't have her doing that right now, so subtly, you unhook your pinky from around hers and instead, slide your palm against hers, fingers finding the space between hers and squeeze, and she lets out a sharp breath, eyes flashing to you and this time, you're the one to shake your head. Just like your dad just did to your mom.
"We can discuss that later," your dad finally answers and grabs the napkin off the table, opening it and draping it over her lap, which is just another alarm bell ringing in your head. He's being way too fucking chill about this, and now he's avoiding this 'favour' that he wants you to do, and your mouth goes to open, to press him, but then Brittany's ankle is hooking around yours and you know what it means.
This is better than the reaction you got last night, and as much as it pains you to stay quiet and instead accept without knowing what favour you'll be doing, it can't be any worse than facing your abuela and somehow explaining the situation between you and Brittany to the rest of your family.
If this is a plan, your parents have no doubt thought about it and so you bite your tongue again, feeling it throb in response from doing it so much in the past 12 hours, and nod your head, once, sternly.
(You don't stop noticing how your mom keeps looking at your dad with disappointment in her eyes.)
/
The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly.
You don't go to get ice cream and see what your old school is like with Brittany like she suggested, mostly because your mom guilts her into helping prepares snacks for tonight, and your dad manages to wrangle you into helping load the car with crates of alcohol. He isn't mad, but he doesn't ask any questions about how far along Brittany is or when the due date is, and as disheartening as it is, you know it takes him time to process things sometimes.
Maybe when the baby comes, he'll be different. He can't hate kids too much; he did have you after all.
Anyway, the hours tick by and it takes everything inside of your not to demand that your parents tell you what this 'favour' is, especially as both of them avoid talking about anything other than party prep, but you don't. Instead, both of you do as you're told, and despite the weird, heavy feeling inside your stomach, you shake it off and then it's time to get ready.
You head up to your bedroom, finding Brittany already there and it's all been full speed ahead since breakfast, so you haven't actually managed to talk to her that much.
Which you don't realise you missed until you're in your doorway, leaning against the wood and watching her as she takes a few dresses out the closet and throws them on the bed, standing back with her head cocked, hand on her hips and eyes darting between each outfit, yet to notice your presence.
She just looks so damn cute, all indecisive and frustrated, and she doesn't seem to be holding the same suspicion that you do about your parents – which is making you feel better – nor is she acting weirdly like she was in the bathroom this morning.
You both seem to have forgotten about the tension, and the fact you slept together last night or rather it just isn't as important as other things going on, and you watch her for a few moments, admiring every step she takes and the way she's quietly talking to herself like she's figuring out with the voice inside her head what she wants to wear but verbally responding.
It makes you giggle at one point, when she huffs loudly and pushes one of the dresses off the bed, clicking her tongue, and when you make the sound, she jumps, spins around and presses her hand to her chest, looking flustered at you in the doorway. "San," she breathes, and you shake your head, still laughing as you push off the wood and walk in, sliding up beside her to look at the dresses. "You scared me," she adds and bumps her hips with yours.
You stick your tongue out at her, and she scrunches her face up, but return your vision to the potential outfits. "Were you talking to yourself?" You ask, but it's rhetorical and she flashes a guilty smile, just like she always used to when you caught her doing shit like this when you were kids, admitting that yeah, she was. "Nerd," you laugh, and she rolls her eyes playfully. "What are you gonna wear?"
Again, she huffs, and you have to suck your lips into your mouth to stop yourself from giggling again. You just settle for a smile, as much as you can like that. "I don't know," she sighs and pinches her lips up at the side, arms folding over her chest. "Is this like one of those formal parties your parents used to have?"
Despite only being together for a year, you went to a lot of parties with her. Their 15th wedding anniversary wasn't a big one, but your dad had his 40th birthday in the same year and your mom did too, so you both know what their celebrations can be like. Sometimes they're themed, with black and white which naturally means everyone turns up in formal attire, or masquerade shindigs and even they go the same way, just with masks.
"I don't think so," you reply and lift a shoulder, eying her. "I didn't exactly bring anything fancy."
Her lips pull down at the side. "Me either," she agrees and looks back at the bed. "But at least we have these to choose from," she nods her head down at the outfits and you look at them. They're nothing fancy, just a tight bodycon black dress – which you'll probably wear – and a flowy blue one, which would suit her. The one on the floor is bright red and floor length and you're guessing that's why it's there. "Not that it matters what you wear."
You freeze, turning your head as your eyes slide to her and instead of the adorable indecision in her eyes, you see something else. Something that makes you think about last night and heat creeps up your spine until you have to swallow against it. "Why's that?"
"Because you look hot in everything," she replies without a beat and holds your stare as your heart skips a beat. "Whilst I've got to figure out how to hide this bump," she quickly adds on, and blue eyes drop to her stomach, which is only protruding slightly, but you know there's a reason why she's been wearing baggy clothes. She's not at the stage where she's obviously pregnant yet – somehow – but she hasn't had to wear a dress yet and you know she's been self-conscious recently.
Still, you find it hard to think that somehow, she thinks that'll have any effect on how beautiful she is whatsoever, or that she has any reason to be self-conscious as she's the most perfect thing you've ever seen, and that thought leaves your mouth.
"You've got nothing to worry about," you state and blue eyes narrow slightly with intrigue but you just lift a shoulder as you continue, trying to play off what you're about to say even though the heat around the collar of your t-shirt is hard to ignore. "You always steal the room."
The softest smiles tugs at Brittany's lips, and she tries to hide the blush creeping up on her cheeks by tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looking away, but you see it anyway, and you can't help but smile yourself. It's times like these, when you feel the silence set in but the emotion flare and seep into the atmosphere, that it's hard to remember why this whole weekend is dangerous, that that is the type of shit you should really avoid saying but it's like word vomit.
You can't control yourself and you'd do anything, tell her anything, if she doubted herself for even a second to make sure she sees who she really is.
(An angel.)
"San," she draws out your name and bumps your shoulders together, scrunching her nose up at you. "You can't say things like that," she whispers, and you cock your head to the side, not knowing why she's said it until you look into her eyes, which drop to your lips.
Oh.
"Just keeping it real," you shrug again and take a deep breath when blue eyes drag back up to meet yours, with zero intention of looking away and you know how this goes if you hold her eyes.
It went like this last night, right before you kissed her, and the time before that where she kissed you and… You just can't. Sure, you haven't talked about last night, mostly because there's bigger issues to deal with first – and it's not really an issue, more of a complication – but you think that her kissing you without the intention of sex might be crossing several lines and you've got about a half hour until you have to leave and deal with your freaking family.
So you inhale deeply and twist around, dropping yourself on to the bed, palms braced out behind you, legs kicked out in front and stare up at her. She studies you for a long second, probably calculating why you had to get out of her personal space, but she doesn't call you out on it and instead turns back to the closet, reaching inside and searching through it.
You just watch, totally enamoured and kind of not wanting to ruin the domesticity of the moment with speech and a wave of calm pulses through your veins. This is what you need to chill out before you see all your family, and now you know your abuela is coming, you're even worse than before. Explaining what's going on with you and Brittany is going to be challenging – the last time she met half your family, it was 10 years ago, and you were together – and spilling out the whole baby thing is going to cause confusion.
Confusion you'll clear up, but complicated confusion none-the-less, and if you're completely honest, that's not the part you're nervous for. You're more nervous for seeing your abuela, for finding out what this favour is that your parents want, and how badly both of them could go and whether they're connected. You don't think too bad, as your parents wouldn't ambush you if it meant risking ruining their anniversary party, but you know there's something uneasy in your stomach telling you that whatever it is, it's not going to be good.
You can't get the damn image of your mom looking at your dad with disappointment out of your head.
"Are you nervous?" Comes from the closet and you lift your head to find Brittany twirling around with two jackets, coming over and dropping one to one dress, and the other to the other dress before meeting your eye and explaining her question further. "About seeing your abuela?"
Your brows furrow and the breath stills in your chest. Is she in your head?
"Yeah," you admit through a breath, knowing it's pointless to lie, and the blonde pinches her lip up at the side, blue eyes darting around your face for a long second before she drops to the bed beside you, urging the outfits out the way to clear a space and reaching over to take your hand. "Not really sure how she's going to take the baby news if me coming out was bad," you let out a short laugh through your nose, but it isn't an amused one. It's nervous and you hate that you can't hide your emotions around Brittany.
Brittany bites her lip and nods, stroking her thumb over the back of your hand. "I'll be there, at least," she says, and you know she can't tell you it's going to be okay because it won't.
The only time she ever met your abuela, was when she saw the back of her as she walked out your parent's house after revealing your sexuality and you won't lie, that fucked you up. She never came to visit after, never sent you a Christmas card or even tried to acknowledge your existence, and you know there was a fair few months following that where both your parents didn't speak to her, wanting to back their daughter and you loved them for that.
It didn't change your abuela's mind though, so for multiple reasons, you're scared to see her tonight, and a little pissed your parents didn't warn you before. Although if they had done, you would've backed out of coming and you think that's the reason why they didn't, and that's not something you need to think about right now because that can't be changed.
And like Brittany said, at least she's here with you. She was the person that got you through it last time, supporting you and holding you when you spent the same night crying your eyes out.
"Yeah," you finally breathe out, bobbing your head and dropping your vision to your hands in your lap.
She just squeezes them though, until you have to glance into her eyes and that damn soft smile is back on her face as she lowers her head towards you, coming close enough that you can smell her perfume wafting up from her skin. "I said it last night, and I'll say it again," she whispers and your heart stops as it's the first time she's mentioned what happened in bed. "You're safe with me, okay?"
Your lip twitches into a small smile, and you force yourself to roll your eyes because if you don't, you'll react the same as you did last night and kiss her. You won't be able to resist, and it might have been okay then, for reasons you two are yet to talk about, but this is far more emotional.
This is her trying to comfort you when you're anxious and scared, and this is taking you back in time to a place where she was allowed to do that, because of who she was to you. It's just reminding you how dangerous this trip could get if you just let your body act for you around her, as it seems to lead you astray and make you do things that your mind questions and you're alarmingly aware there are several reasons why you can't do that.
Like telling her about Mona, but selfishly, and probably with poor judgement, you don't want to pop the bubble you're in by voicing it. You're not even sure it means anything, but you know for definite that you won't be telling Mona about sleeping with Brittany as you aren't exclusive and have only been on like, a couple dates so far, but it might make Brittany go weird and you can't handle that right now.
You need her here. You need her support.
"Come on," Brittany breaks you from your thoughts and you blink rapidly, feeling a cold creep across your skin when she stands, dropping your hand and folds her arms as she looks down to you. "We gotta get dressed," she says and flashes a small smile at you before going back to the outfits.
You take a deep breath, and remind yourself that today isn't about you, Brittany, or Mona… This is about your family and the news you're yet to share.
/
The town hall looks nothing like you remember it.
Apparently, they had a refurbishment, so the whole thing is gleaming, sparkly and way too big for an anniversary celebration, but you're here for it and you get to setting up.
Your mom and dad give you and Brittany jobs, but you do yours as quickly as possible so you can help the blonde, finding her putting out the plastic glasses amongst the many bottles of champagne, turning it into a weird game of Jenga and giggling like two little school kids.
You're sure there's a bar here, but your dad is kind of tight – even though he obviously splashed out for the venue – and to be honest, you're enjoying the distraction as Brittany's managing to take your mind off the fact you're now in the countdown to seeing your abuela and you're all kinds of nervous.
Not that you're talking about it, but you're giving it away by checking over your shoulder at the door and looking at your parents who keep stealing glances of you and Brittany, and at one point, she calls you out on it and bumps your hips together, not verbalising that she's here to support you regardless of what happens but showing it with the way she looks and smiles at you.
Anyway, it gets to the time where people start to arrive, and your dad claps his hands, ushering you and Brittany over to stand in the entrance lobby, all side by side with smiles on your face and you spare a glance at Brittany one last time, feeling her hand creep behind you and press to the small of your back as the first people wander in.
Luckily, it's just your aunt and uncle with a few of your cousins, and you do all the things your mom told you to do on the way over – smile, kiss them on the cheek and point them towards the waiters darted around with drink trays inside – or at least you try to, but the second they lay eyes on Brittany, the idea goes out the window. They've only met her once, back when you two were fifteen and attending another anniversary celebration, but they clearly remember her and make a fuss, and it should feel weird, but it doesn't.
It's like she's been in your life the entire time, and it's so much better outcome wise than you expected that you just bite your tongue and let it happen, especially when they congratulate you two on the pregnancy. It's the first people that the news is being tested on, and you shift uncomfortably, looking towards your parents who just nod their head – they must have told them – and you can't argue that it's a good reaction, so you just roll with it.
The next string of people come in, one after the other, some in groups and some solo, and various envelopes are shoved into either yours or Brittany's hands after the greetings, telling you that it's savings for when the baby comes – which the first time, scares the hell out of you, but your mom gave you a reassuring smile and your dad lifts his chin like he's not going to take anyone reacting differently – and you simmer down immediately.
You don't know when they told the family, but it beats you having to do it and hell, you haven't looked in the envelopes, but you can feel the wads of cash inside. The Lopez bloodline have always been financially savvy and apparently, generous as hell.
Anyway, it's not until the hired out room is packed with a lot of people, that you feel the shift in the air. Your dad's phone buzzes in his pocket, and he offers your mom a stern nod before darting off, and it's only a few minutes before he returns, and he has a fear in his eyes that makes your insides go cold.
You know what that means.
"Everything okay, mi amore?" Your mom asks, running her hand down the sleeve of his suit and grabbing his hand and Brittany's hand presses harder into the small of your back, her eyes shifting to you.
Your dad's jaw clenches, and you've seen this man handle various situations, never showing emotion but you know he's nervous. The way his body is rigid, his shoulders squared, and eyes trained on the double doors in front of you, is telling you that and instantly, you slip into the same mode. You're getting ready, steeling yourself and biting on your lip as he finally replies with only two words, but two words that make your stomach drop out your ass.
"She's here."
See, the thing is, is that because everything's happened at full speed today, you haven't had the opportunity to ask them what this favour is that your parents are going to ask of you, and you can't help but fight the feeling that it's to do with your abuela.
Your dad hasn't been remotely shifty, like he is now, with any of your other relatives or his friends, business partners or whoever, instead looking proud of you – which is a freaking first – as they congratulated you and Brittany on the baby, and your mom has been smiling reassuringly at you but now it's colder, it's far more forced and you really don't freaking like it.
But you don't get to dwell on it for long, or even ask them about this favour before your mom is shooting you a look, like she's trying to calm you down even though you're not visibly reacting and it would have the desired effect, but your dad shakes his head at her – much like he did last night – in a way that you think is supposed to be subtle, but it's really fucking obvious, and it just increases the fear in your chest.
Your eyes slide to Brittany, and clearly noticing the shared look from your parents, her arm winds around your waist and she pulls you into her, securing you against her side. She doesn't know what's going on either, and you do have to admit you feel better in her arms now, but you really don't fucking like the way your mom is still staring at you. She's holding your eye, and whereas you felt that scared type of nervous, now you're feeling the sick kind of one because you can see that she's trying to tell you something.
You can tell she's trying to warn you of something, and your dad isn't doing the same – his childhood was strict though, and he was taught never to show emotion – and he takes a step forward, heading towards the door instead of waiting back like he's done for everyone else, and it just reconfirms who's about to come through the door.
Still, due to him stepping away, you feel like you've been given the golden opportunity to ask what's going on – you know there is something as your stomach is super freaking heavy right now – but the question stops on your tongue when you see your mom lean over, pulling Brittany down by the arm as she's beside her and whispers something in her ear.
Which usually wouldn't freak you out, but when Brittany's entire body stiffens, her arm tightening around your waist, it does and your breathing begins picking up, as well as the beat of your heart, and you try to ask, stuttering nervously, but then there's an eery silence and you watch your dad straighten up his posture and his suit before heading through the doors and disappearing down the concrete steps.
Moments later, he returns, and you hold your breath as your dad's head appears, and you take in the sight of your abuela, coming into the lobby right next to him as he clasps her arm, her cane making a clinking sound with every step she takes.
And it's been years since you've seen her, but somehow she looks the same. Being a Latina, she's aged wonderfully, with short dyed black hair and bright teeth, and you would notice more about her like the fact she has to use a walking aid now or that her frame and posture is smaller, but you're completely stuck drinking in the sight and focusing on not having a full on meltdown.
The last interaction you had with her wasn't so friendly, and the fear has come in full force, but you were prepared for this. You'd actually managed to steel yourself for this moment as there's no way she'd turn up if she didn't want to, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you register that it's bizarre she is, but maybe she's changed her views on things and gotten into the 21st century.
Whatever the explanation is, you don't care. She's here now and you need to be the strong woman she always told you, you should be.
"Ladies," your dad says when he gets closer, your abuela's arm looped through his and he keeps his eyes trained on you, burning holes into your face.
Your mouth pops open, but when they get closer enough, your abuela steps out of his hold and makes a beeline for you, and you swear to God you almost die. The breath gets lodged in your windpipe, your heart stuck in your throat and Brittany shifts as close as she can get, fingers tightening in the fabric of your jacket when the old woman stops in front of you, her face vacant and eyes darting between you and the blonde as she studies you.
And you don't know what to say.
You don't even know if you can say hello, and it's rare that you're rendered speechless, but this is very much like the last time you saw her so it's having that effect. Back then, when you were just 15 years old and fresh out the closet, she was shaking her head in disappointment at the news – even though she wasn't supposed to be eavesdropping in from the other room – not accepting that you had no choice in who you fell in love with and walking out of your life for a decade.
There was no communication from her in that time, no Christmas present or birthday card, and over the years you've learned not to hate her as that's just the way she is, and you'd be a hypocrite if you hated her for that as she had no choice. She hated you for the same reason, disowned you for that, and she's stuck in her old fashioned mindset. If you could change it, you would, but you can't and you just learned to deal with it.
Still though, right now, the fact she's come straight up to you, is making you feel just as emotionally vulnerable like you did 10 years ago, and heat creeps up to the back of your eyes as you wait through the silence, feeling Brittany's hand clench tighter in your jacket.
But finally, after a too long silence of old brown eyes dragging up and down your body, and doing the same to Brittany's, there's frail arms stretching out and you wince, kind of expecting to be bitch slapped into the next century, but instead, the unthinkable happens.
Your abuela fucking smiles at you.
"Mija," she draws out, her voice thick with her accent and your eyes widen, mouth dropping open like you've just witnessed a miracle. It kind of is, actually, as you don't think you can recall a single time in history when this woman has grinned at anyone bar when it was a smug one shot at the postman after getting him arrested for stealing her Christmas cards when he didn't even do it.
So for her not to be wrinkling her nose up at you, showing the disappointment for your existence you thought she harboured for you, has completely thrown all expectation into the air and all you find yourself doing is staring at her blankly, confused, and frozen.
"You're so grown up," your abuela continues and wiggles her fingers in the air, which you don't move towards until your dad glares at you and nods his head down towards the offered out arms of your abuela, but how are you supposed to handle that? This woman hated you, rejected you, left scars that you still live with to this very day. "Give me a hug, Santana," she finally demands and then there's your mom's hand on your arm and you feel Brittany resist the movement, but your mom must look at her because she lets you go. "It's been too long."
The embrace is unfamiliar, and you don't even get to process the memories of her musty scent from years ago before she's pulling out and taking a stumbled step to the side, right in front of Brittany and if you thought you were scared before, you were wrong. Your immediate instinct is to step in front of the blonde, to pull her away because you have no idea what abuela knows about her, but you know she met her briefly during that coming out dinner that went so desperately wrong.
"And Brittany," the older woman says, a warm smile on her face as she says the name and even the blonde gives you a confused look. "Just as beautiful as I remember."
Now there's no way she doesn't know who she is and even if she does, that's considerably stranger. You never spoke to your abuela after she walked out of your parent's house, but you used to sit at the top of the stairs and listen to your parents on the phone with her, trying to convince her that you were still the same person, and that Brittany didn't 'make you sin' by bringing out the rainbow inside of you.
It was always there… She just made it undeniable.
So that devious old crow definitely remembers Brittany, but just like she did with you, she offers out frail hands and pulls her into a quick embrace, before looking her up and down and settling her eyes on her stomach and all the blood drains from your face.
FUCK.
"I'm so pleased to hear we'll be getting a nieto or neita soon," your abuela says and Brittany stiffens again, blue eyes shifting to you, then your parents, then back to the older woman and you're about to open your mouth, to chime in finally as you've barely breathed since she walked in, let alone think about what to say but you need to say something…
Except you don't get to, because it's at that moment that everything is explained – from your abuela being so damn happy to see you to your parents becoming freaking mutes as this interaction plays out – and the realisation of what this 'favour' is that they wanted you and Brittany to do, comes to light in four words.
"And that you're engaged!"
Brittany doesn't jerk back or seem remotely surprised even though you almost black out when your mind processes the words, and then the light flicks on inside your brain as you realise that that's what your mom must have whispered in her ear.
That was what your freaking mom was so disappointed over your dad not explaining to you last night, or even this morning or whilst you've been setting up the hall, when they had the freaking opportunity to and irritation burns through you, betrayal running right alongside it as you shift your gaze to your dad who clenches his jaw in response, sternly nodding his head.
It means he wants you to go along with it. It means that this is the favour, that he didn't give you any time to prepare or even yell at him because he knew you wouldn't be okay with it, and you fucking aren't, but it all makes sense now.
You're not engaged, you told your parents that last night and now that all the family are here, all his business partners and friends too, that he doesn't want to lose face by revealing the true relationship between you and Brittany. That he doesn't want to reveal your having a baby out of wedlock because God forbid it might freaking embarrass him, but that's not really what you're mad at.
You're far madder that you can't correct your abuela, that she's reacting positively somehow because she thinks you've grown up, become a family woman and half of you doesn't want to disappoint her again even though you owe her nothing. You've already dealt with that once in your lifetime, and as time went on, you grew accustomed to it, but you're being put in an impossible situation.
If you tell your abuela the truth, she might repeat the reaction she had 10 years ago to you coming out and walk out. That would ruin your parents anniversary and make everything so much fucking harder, so you can't say anything. But then again, if you go along with it, you're lying and you're also starting to realise that if you have to do that, you'll have to act like Brittany is your freaking fiancée.
Act like you're in love, just like you were when you were teenagers and your eyes shut as you think of how freaking difficult that will be. Even this morning it was hard because you felt your walls come down and felt the comfort of being in your parents house, where you fell in love with each other and now you've actually got to pretend.
Now you've got to go along with it, and you know you can't even decline, or you'll run the risk of ruining everything.
So instead, you force a smile to your face, not trusting your tongue and bob your head, right before your dad slides in - literally in front of you – and slides his arm back though your abuela's, steering her off to the side. "Yes, it's great news," he chimes in with a forced smile shot at his mother. "Let's get you inside and away from the cold," he continues and drags her away.
You don't get to say anything, or react, before your mom is replacing the position where your abuela just was, staring at you with wide, pleading eyes, but you're pissed. Pissed that she didn't tell you. Pissed that your dad doesn't think this is inappropriate and pissed because you know it means you're forced to act in a way that you know is going to make your head go fuzzy.
"Mija," your mom lowly whispers, reaching over to touch your forearm but you step back, whipping your hand throw the air so she can't grab you. "Santana, please," she continues, and you feel Brittany tense again beside you, moving back to match the distance and even she's not happy about this. Which lets you know it means you're well within your rights to feel the way you do and so you just shake your head, but it doesn't put your mom off.
"It's just for tonight," she tries but that's not good enough. She doesn't understand what she's inadvertently done and how complicated this is going to make things, because this weekend has been challenging enough and it's only highlighting how much you need to tell Brittany about your other situation with Mona. "Just please go along with it… Your father doesn't anyone to know just yet."
You don't know what that means, and you don't know how he's going to explain it after freaking lying to everyone, but you guess thought has been put into it already. Maybe you should've stayed and continued getting lectured last night, so they had to tell you about it but instead you ran away and hid in your bedroom, just like a teenager and God, when will you ever learn your lesson?
It doesn't matter though, because it's done and now you're thinking of all the reasons why it's going to be hard as being within touching distance of Brittany is always challenging, and now you have to act like you're in love with her and be convincing.
(Although you really don't think that's going to be a problem, but still.)
So instead of releasing all the irritated thoughts clouding your mind, you hold them in – not like it'll change anything – and run your tongue along your teeth, showing your disappointment as you say, "I need a minute."
Brittany doesn't argue, just grabs your hand, and pulls you away.
/
Oh snap... Drama incoming.