Title: Above The Moon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 10k
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: I won't lie, this was one of my favourite chapters to write. You'll see why!
/
You push through the crowds of people, ducking your head and taking advantage of your small frame to weave through bodies so you can reach the kitchen without being stopped. You push through the swing door, and it collides with the wall behind, slamming loudly but you don't care.
Because you're pissed. Like really freaking pissed, your mind spinning and hands slamming down on each side of the metal basin you stumble into, hanging your head over it as you try to regulate your breathing.
You can't believe your parents did that to you.
You can't believe they're ashamed of your situation because all you needed was unconditional love and support, just like your friends and Brittany's parents gave you as it's hard enough dealing with the fact you're having a baby with your ex-girlfriend, and best friend.
But no.
Of course not.
Instead, your dad had to plan this stupid fucking 'favour' which generally means not putting your feelings on the line, and doing something far less intense, and okay, maybe you're half to blame as you technically haven't told them you and Brittany are exclusively platonic either, but that doesn't mean they can do this. That doesn't mean that you should have to poke your head inside a box you had to lock away and act the way you probably would do if it weren't entirely inappropriate and confusing, and it's bullshit.
You have to pretend you're back together. You have to pretend in a place where you once were in love, filled with thousands of memories and that's where most of the frustration lies, if you're honest. It's already been strange not talking about having sex again, and you still feel wholly guilty over the fact she has no idea about Mona yet, and it's causing such a storm inside your brain that you can feel the start of a headache coming on.
However you're not left to wind yourself up for much longer before you hear the familiar creak of the doors behind you and the atmosphere spikes with warmth. The door shuts, and there's a few soft footsteps echoing around the quiet kitchen, but you just remain in place, seething quietly as you stare at nothing in particular, but then Brittany speaks and your body floods with relief.
(You always feel better when she's around.)
(Although you're not sure with what you're having to do, it's going to stay that way.)
"Are you pissed?"
It's the same question she asked you last night, after coming back up from the ear bashing but you feel differently now. Because yeah, you are pissed, but you can't tell Brittany why as you don't want her to take offense as it's to do with her, but also not.
It's just going to be really hard to pretend like you're back together, as you've spent the time she's been back in your life, trying not to act like that. It'll be challenging now that you're have to, as all you've done is find out that it actually will be easy but that's why it's so damn hard.
You just know it but that makes it so much worse for a multitude of reasons.
So you spin around, hoping that you'll see the same concern in her face and rest your butt against the sink, hands grasping the sides. Your eyes land on her, seeing exactly what you wanted – uncertainty in deep blue eyes – but you're not sure if it makes you feel better or worse.
They're uncertain, but soft, and there's something else behind them too, but you don't know what. Brittany's just stood there with her hands in front of, playing with the sides of her jacket and you can feel the hesitancy from here. She doesn't know how to feel about this 'favour' either, and whereas before, in the lobby, she looked pissed (and kind of hot) like she wanted to say something but knew for the better, she shouldn't, now she just looks how you feel.
Unsure.
Which means it's okay to tell the truth, as you think the only way you'll be able to actually pretend that you're together, is if you're honest.
"Yeah," you confirm and take a moment, trying to slow down your breathing but it doesn't work. "What about you?"
Brittany sucks her lips into her mouth, closing the distance and sliding up to the counter next to you. She leans back against it, matching your position and then lets her gaze slide to you, meeting your eyes.
"Yeah, me too," she answers, and it does actually make you feel better. You think she's pissed for the same reason you are. "But it's for one night," she shrugs, and you take a deep breath. One night can change everything, but you know this is a Brittany type thing to do; see the light in a dark situation. "Then we can leave tomorrow, and if your parents want to see the baby, then they can come to us without their judgement, or they're not invited."
The tone of voice that it's said shocks you a little. Not that you ever thought Brittany wouldn't stand up for you – you firmly believed she would – but she just looks annoyed, almost at herself, like she wishes she'd said something at the time. Because of that, you find yourself shuffling closer until your sides are pressed together, and you gingerly reach out with your hand, grasping hers and earning eye contact again after she looks down to watch your fingers slide together.
"Thank you," you whisper, not sure what else to say to make this better as it's happening and neither of you have a say in it.
The corner of her lip tugs up and she looks away, trying to hide the bashfulness of the half smile but you see it. You've always seen it.
"I'm sorry, San," she says and it's not what you were expecting, so you frown.
"Sorry for what?"
"Putting you in this situation," she fires back without a breath and chews the inside of her cheek. "I don't want you to fall out with your family, even if they're being buttheads."
You crack a smile, let out a small laugh. "They are, but it's not like we weren't actually together before, so it'll be like acting as we can draw from a real experience," you try, and you don't know if it was the right thing to say as blue eyes narrow at you, but after a few seconds, Brittany nods.
"I know," she agrees but presses her lips together again. "It's just gonna be weird, isn't it?"
This time, you narrow your eyes and cock your head, trying to figure out if it's a good or a bad weird, but when you see the slight cock of her eyebrow, you realise she means unsure weird instead, like she doesn't know how to let herself act like that with you. Which you totally get, as that's the main concern here because on one hand, it's easier than breathing, but on the other, if you let yourself act freely, then there's always the possibility that the feelings that once accompanied those actions might slip through, too.
If you go back out there, and tell everyone you're engaged, they'll be asking questions about the proposal, about the baby, about the relationship, and watching your every move. They'll notice if you aren't constantly attached to her and get suspicious if you aren't affectionate and okay, you could argue that you've had sex so that shouldn't be an issue, but that's different.
Having sex with her is something you do away from prying eyes, and you know how conscious you're going to be when she touches you in public because every time she does, it sets you on fire.
And burning in front of most of your living relatives and extended family, too, isn't something you're looking forward to.
It's hard enough pretending like sleeping with her doesn't mean anything because it does, and you can feel it. You'd be naïve to say otherwise, but you also know that what you have now is clear cut and has defined lines. The sex does tend to blur those lines, but that's fleeting and on the grand scale of things, you two are best friends and have had sex less times than seen each other by far.
And that's the mindset you have to go into this with. You'll just have to pretend your touchy best friends and maybe… Maybe that's something you can do.
(You doubt it, but you can try.)
"Let's just go and be what they need us to be," you say, pushing off the basin and holding her hand, spinning around to face her. "Like you said, it's just one night, right?" You ask with a quirk of your brow.
Brittany just chews on her bottom lip for a long moment, before exhaling heavily and getting to her feet again.
/
The thing is…
It's actually easier to pretend you're with Brittany than you thought.
(Although you think that's probably not good, but whatever.)
Back in LA, there's always searching, dubious eyes, waiting for the next trip up either verbally or physically, and so you're super aware of every move you make, and every place you touch her in case Kurt or Mercedes notices and bugs you relentlessly over it. But here, with people assuming you're together, you don't have that nagging at the back of your skull, telling you that it's wrong because you don't have any other options, so you decide that after 15 minutes of internally panicking, you're going to take full advantage of this ease and lack of nosey bastards and just roll with it.
You admire her without fear of being caught and wrap your arm around her when another set of your cousins check her out. You grin widely at your uncle when he tells Brittany how much she's glowing, and how you should call the little one a family name, totally not hinting at himself but little baby Gonzalo or Gonzala doesn't really sit right. You scrunch your nose up at her and let your stare linger until she catches you and blushes, and you don't feel even a little bit bad about it.
You make your way around the party, with Brittany always stroking you or kissing you on the cheek after you say something cute about her or your unborn child, and you begin wondering why it's harder not doing this stuff when you're back home, than is.
Although as that question starts trickling into your every thought, you realise that it's probably best not to head down that road as it'll probably end in tears, and you've still got months of baby growing and spending every day with Brittany to get through. That's going to be bad enough as is.
Anyway, you both work like you're mentally connected, finishing each other's sentence about made up vacations that you've never been on, and your family are all ecstatic for you. At one point, someone asks when the baby's due date is and what adventure you'll take him or her on and you both actually end up saying the same destination – Canada – which makes you gaze into her eyes, and something blossom in your chest, and everyone coo's in admiration.
It's easy, and it's not until you come across your abuela once again, surrounded by about ten of your relatives, that something else happens which just throws your head up into the clouds and makes you realise why pretending to be with Brittany is so damn hard.
"Mija," your abuela draws out, perching on a seat that your cousin got for her when her ankles started hurting. "Come here," she beckons, and you throw a look towards Brittany who just smiles softly at you as you both join the circle, her arm wrapped around your waist like it has been for the past half hour.
You're still not okay with all of this – even if there's a little voice in your head celebrating that you've been given an opportunity to act with Brittany in a way that you thought your body had long forgotten – and your watch your parents shuffle in to join, clutched on to each other with eyes trained on you but you're doing this for them and you'll be damned if you back out now, after getting about 50 envelopes shoved into yours or Brittany's hands and getting this far.
You haven't spoken to them since they revealed their ambush, mostly because you think you'll lose your shit if you do, and you're not going to now, although you kind of feel better with them joining, now that your abuela is calling you over again.
Anyway, you put a smile on your face and eye each of your relatives, cautious as you approach, and await why you were called over. You're not sure, and you're hoping it's not just for your abuela to reveal she's lying about being cool with you and humiliate you in front of everyone by disowning you – publicly this time – as you wouldn't put it past her, but when you feel fingers stroke down the side of your ribs, you know that even if she does, Brittany's with you.
You're safe with her. You gotta remember that.
"What date are we putting in our diaries for your wedding?" The old woman asks, settling her clasped hands over the top of her cane.
You panic for a split second, but you know you and Brittany have done a great job of coming up with fake stories to answer questions like that, without any preamble, and inhale deeply, hoping this will go the same. "Next Summer," you respond and beside you, Brittany bobs her head and grins. "After Britt's had the baby and we've had some time to settle in."
Several of your relatives 'aww' and tilts their heads to the side, but that isn't enough of an answer for your abuela. "And how did you propose?"
The panic returns, this time hitting full force as your mind scrambles for a response – this is going to be hard to sync with Brittany as people who have proposed usually remember every small detail about it – but luckily, Brittany must sense your hesitation as she squeezes your hip, slides her eyes towards you and nods her head so subtly, only you can see it.
"We were on a weekend vacation here," she starts and your eyes flash to her. You supposedly proposed in Lima? How lame. "And San took me down to Indiana State Park…"
The words make you freeze again, but this time, it's not out of sheer panic or fear. It's something considerably warmer, akin to the feeling you've had every single time Brittany's looked at you tonight and you turn your head towards her, sucking in your bottom lip as you continue listening. You think you're going to want to hear this, even if you have no idea where she's going with it.
"That's where she first asked me to be her girlfriend," Brittany explains and the soft smile drops off your face, memories of that event flashing before your eyes and it confuses you at first, as you're unsure why Brittany would go back to that. But when you see blue eyes quickly darting to you, something collides heavily with your chest, and you almost choke on the breath you try to take as you begin piecing together your own answer.
That's how she thought you would propose if you ever did. Even though you were only together for a year, technically even less, and were just kids, she still imagined it and it makes your entire body tingle, your throat thicken and heat form behind your eyelids.
She saw a future with you when you were teenagers. A future that never panned out, but she still saw something, and you let out a long breath, hating that.
You don't like what could've been. What should've been.
"She borrowed Michal's Mustang, just like she did back then," Brittany continues, sweeping her hand out towards said man and another warmth seeps inside of you as you remember telling her he still has that damn car the first night you came back together. She remembered, even if you didn't and you have to swallow against the urge to sigh loudly.
The rest of your family might not be able to see how inappropriate it would be as you're purposely acting like you're together, but Brittany will.
"I had no idea where we were going as she blindfolded me," she carries on telling the made up story and it's said so strongly, no wavering or hesitation, that if you didn't know it was fake, you'd have a hard time calling it. Her blue eyes are glazed over, like she has her head in the clouds, and everyone is continuously making sounds or admiration and approval and for some reason… It's making you well up.
Because that's what life could've been.
It's what you could've had together, and that thought makes your mind go into overdrive as you realise why tonight has been so easy, yet difficult at the same time.
This is what it could be like if you two were actually together. Tonight is an example of how easy it would be to actually have this baby with Brittany, have the life she's describing and now you're getting choked up at the thought that maybe… It might be something you could want, and as your eyes shift over to make sure all your relatives are still listening in, you see your mom's lips twitch up, her eyes full of love and understanding, like she knows where your head is gone.
You don't say anything yet though. You just listen.
"She held my hand and led me out the car," Brittany explains, her voice light and airy and you can just imagine it in your head, the sunset over the lake and taking her to the waterline. "She'd decorated an area near the lake with fairy lights and candles… There were Polaroid pictures of us hanging from trees everywhere," she breathes and your heart clenches.
Once upon a time, you'd told her that you always loved keeping Polaroids of her; pictures never faded, but memories did, and you still have them tucked away in the back of your closet, back in the city.
Not that you'll ever tell her that.
"Then she got down on one knee," Brittany turns to you and the breath lodges in your throat as she wiggles out of your arm, slipping her hand into yours, fingers sliding together. Her eyes meet yours, burning into them and it's like everything in the room disappears as your take note of the shade of blue staring back at you; it's like she's really there in her head. Like this isn't a made up story of a proposal you never got around to doing and it feels, for a split second, like it's real. "And she asked me to be hers forever," she continues and it's so quiet that you're not even sure she's talking to everyone else now, especially as she's looking at just you and you swear you almost begin to cry.
But you force your stare away, getting choked up but blinking away the heat behind your eyes as all your relatives hold each other, sighing loudly at the tale because only you two know it's not real. It sounds like perfection, like a way you would've actually done it if things had turned out right, and Brittany hadn't moved away with her family when you were teenagers, and something tightens inside your chest, your lungs filling as you take a long inhale through your nose and swallow against the lump in your throat.
Because this is something that could've been, would've been, should've been… but wasn't, and that's a hard pill to swallow.
No-one seems to notice the conflict in your mind, and they all fire questions at Brittany, so you take the opportunity to kiss her on the cheek and take a moment for yourself by getting you both a drink, pushing down the emotion that surges through your body.
(You miss the way Brittany watches you go, forgetting to answer your uncles question.)
/
The celebration ends, and most of your family fan out until it's just you, Brittany, your parents and your abuela.
You and Brittany get to clearing up, grabbing trash bags, and throwing away the plastic cups and paper plates, some of which still have food on them. You share looks, and as much as you're looking forward to getting back to the house and going to bed, you're kind of bummed as it means you'll have to give up this act.
The only reason you offered to help clear up – even though you would've inevitably been wrangled into it somehow by your parents – is to elongate the time you've got here and it's not what you should be doing, but you can't help it.
Brittany's the high that you can't get enough of, and this weekend has been confusing, but you know it's just because of where you are and what you had to do, but you both said it was for one night and you need to stick to that. You need to remember that, no matter how hard it might be to tell your body that as it's spent the last few hours familiarising itself with old behaviour.
And everyone knows, old habits die hard.
Anyway, half an hour later, you're at one of the tables, reaching over to grab at the last paper plate – which is still half full of food – and Brittany's gone off with your dad to help load the car up, when your abuela approaches you.
It's the third time you've come across her, but this time it's far worse as there's no-one else around you, bar your mom who's talking to one of the venue's staff in the far corner. You can't panic though; you don't need to as you think it's all gone well tonight and it's not long before you can get out of here and process everything that's happened tonight and get away from Brittany to really think about how you feel about everything.
You've kind of been numb since the proposal story, and Brittany's noticed but hasn't called you out on it yet. You're hoping for the same reason that you're not talking about it.
So with a brave face, you take a breath and flash your abuela a smile as she lowers herself down into the chair near you, reaching out to grab your forearm as you steady her. That cane isn't really doing its job, and as much as she still looks like she did a decade ago, you can see the subtle differences. She's not as light on her feet anymore, nor is she as tall and half of you feels bad as she's aging, and it's hard to harbour hard feelings towards someone in a frail condition, but she made your life a living hell when you were a teenager.
And you don't think you can just forgive her that easily.
"Santana, mija," she says and rests her hands over the top of each other, on top of the cane. "It's been wonderful seeing you here tonight, so happy and grown up and responsible... You've changed and I like what I see."
You clench your jaw at the immediate response to tell her to shove her opinion, as the only reason she is being like this is due to lies. Lies you weren't okay with, still aren't okay with, and lies that you're going to hold over your parents head for months to come. You still can't believe they did you like that, but it's the end of the night and you've survived so far, even if it's left you with this heaviness in your stomach.
None of this is real.
"You too, abuela," you force out and take a deep breath, dropping the last piece of trash into the bag before turning to her, lowering it to the floor. "Have you had a good night?"
You don't care, but you also need to fill the silence as you're brimming with the need to release some of this frustration, and if there's one person that deserves it, it's her but you can't. She's acting like she never walked out on you, like she never disowned you over something you had zero control over, and the mature part of you wants to accept it and move on, but the other slightly more immature part wants an apology as even before coming out the flannel infested closet, she never really liked you.
She's biblical, so the situation in your pants always irked her, but you were just a kid who didn't do anything wrong, and you hate that all of a sudden your abuela is okay with you because of something that isn't even true.
If she knew the truth, she'd revert straight back to the wicked old hag she really is. You're sure of it.
"Si, mija," she nods and inhales deeply, narrowing her faded, brown eyes. "I didn't see a ring on Brittany's finger, though," she says, and you freeze, breath stilling in your chest.
Shit. You didn't think of that, and you don't know how you got through the entire party without someone asking to see the engagement ring that you never bought her because oh yeah, you're not actually engaged.
And usually, in situations like this, Brittany is here to bail you out, but she isn't as she left through the double doors with your dad again and your mom is way too far away to hear this, so you've got to think on the spot and actually go along with the lie. You haven't technically agreed to it, nor said anything to back it up, and you've been hanging on to that fact as that means technically, you're not lying.
"Did you not get her one?"
You pick the trash bag back up, spinning around and taking advantage of this table being clear which means you need to do the next one, and it means you have your back turned to the older woman as you respond.
"It's getting resized," you get out, thankful that your mouth did something without you making it. You kind of blanked mentally there.
There's a long silence that follows your answer, and in that time, your heart picks up its pace, your hands start doing things they don't usually do like forgetting how to pick up a freaking plastic cup, and you send a quick prayer to the heavens that you abuela is buying this. You're not happy that you have to lie, as you lie a lot but not when it comes to Brittany, and all it'll take it one question that goes too far for you to snap.
You really hope it won't come though.
"Santana," your abuela says your name lowly, her voice far more serious than it has been all night, and you remember the tone from ten years ago. It was the same one she used when you revealed your sexuality, and your hand stops, mid-air, hovering above a cup as you peer over your shoulder and find a deep frown being shot your way.
You don't think you're going to want to hear this.
"That's a bad sign… a bad omen," your abuela follows and you resist the urge to scoff as you turn around, watching as the bullshit façade this old crow was holding up falls down, like a curtain being dropped. There she is… The same women that walked out on her granddaughter a decade ago and you can't help but laugh bitterly out loud, your tongue pushing against the back of your teeth as you realise how stupid you are.
Despite all the lying, she doesn't approve and the only reason she went along with it is probably because she didn't want to ruin the anniversary celebration.
God. Why did you think she could change?
Still, on the off chance she's just making poor conversation, you don't lash out immediately. You'll give her the benefit of the doubt as it has been a decade.
"It's just getting resized... It's nothing to worry about."
Your abuela's stare burns holes into the back of your head, but you force yourself to remain doing the task at hand even though her initial silence is deafening.
"I don't believe in coincidences, Santana... Maybe you shouldn't be so naive and see if God is trying to tell you something," she utters and you still, fists clenching around the black bin bag in hand.
You're not religious, and you don't like her freaking tone or where this is going but you need to ignore it. You've got this far, and you won't let up when you're so close to the finish line.
"No, it's fine," you defend and try to remain cool but it's not working. You're already starting to shake. "Rules don't apply to us anyway, so I'm not worried about some silly superstition."
Your abuela lets out a low hum, but it makes your stomach twist because you know she isn't buying this. She's poking hokes in your story, doubting you again and yeah, she has good reason to this time, but she doesn't know that.
It's just making you get your back up more.
"Maybe she isn't the right one for you, mija," she finally comments and it's that that does it.
In a split second, you're dropping the trash bag to the ground and spinning around, towering over the old woman with your nostrils flared, head cocking to the side. Heat floods through your veins, blood rushing to your face and the same irritation you were feeling back in the kitchen, when Brittany tried to calm you down, comes back full force and you shake your head against the emotion, trying to remind yourself that this isn't your fault.
Reminding yourself that you were put in this position, unwillingly, and hell… You were borderline about to tell your parents to stay out of your life after their reaction to the pregnancy announcement, and you have a relatively decent relationship with them, so you aren't going to stand here and take opinions for someone who dropped you the second you showed the real you.
You won't listen to her bullshit views and ridiculous opinions as this is a new age. The time you live in is more evolved, where generational turnover is to thank for acceptance nowadays as it means that stupid withering crones like this woman, staring up at you, soon fade out, alongside their outdated feelings.
And all of those thoughts ball up inside of you, sending your fury to an all time high because this has been a long time coming, and you're not going to take it anymore for so many reasons you can't even begin to think of them.
"I don't wanna hear it," you half-shout and your abuela jerks her head back, eyes widening as she leans back into her chair, but you don't notice and take a daunting step forward. "I don't wanna know what you think about me, or Brittany, or listen to you try and push your insane beliefs on me or anything," you continue and swallow against your thickening throat. You're so angry, but you also think if you stop talking, you will cry but that's the worst thing you could do; let her see you break. "I've outgrown you, abuela," you choke, and you watch wicked old eyes narrow into slits. You knew that old bitch was still there.
"And I'll be honest with you now, because there's no-one else around so I won't embarrass dad, or you, in front of our family and friends, and show them that I'm the black sheep that you always thought I was," you explain and confusion flashes across her face, but she doesn't deny it and that just pisses you off more. "But Brittany and I aren't engaged," you get out and a pressure lifts off your chest, replaced with anger when you see disappointment in fading brown eyes. "We aren't even together, but we're still having the baby and the only reason I went along with the lie is because your freaking son didn't give me a choice because he's so scared of what you'll think."
Distantly, you hear footsteps and your vision flits to the double doors, just in time to see your dad and Brittany appear, and the second she notices the look on your face, she rushes over and slides up beside you, studying the situation but not being warned off by it. Her hand finds yours, and you know she has no idea what she's just walked into but the fact she's next to you now, eyes trained on the side of your face, supporting you by squeezing your hand and forearm, lets you know you can do this.
But you don't get to continue your rambling, because your abuela slowly climbs to her feet, hand braced on the table and eyes the lack of space between you and Brittany, and you already know what's coming. If it weren't for the glare, you'd know by the shift in the air, like the match has just been lit in a room full of gas, but you don't back down.
You never have before, and you won't now. Even if it's to your abuela.
"I knew it," she spits, her voice harsh now and your bottom lip trembles, but you bite down on it so hard you could draw blood. "I knew you were lying... I knew you were going to disappoint me again," she hisses, and the words collide with your chest, sucker punching your in the gut until you choke out a breath. You were expecting that, but it still hurts. "I knew you were still an irresponsible child who doesn't care about anything but yourself... Dragging the Lopez family name through the dirt," she clicks her tongue. "It's despicable."
Brittany tenses beside you, but you don't look at her. You just train your glare on the older woman, registering a form coming over from the side and when it gets close enough, you notice out your peripheral vision that it's your dad. He opens his mouth, eyes wide and he's to fucking blame for this, so if you get another opportunity to talk, you're going to tell him how you feel about this and how it's his fault, but you can't right now.
Right now, this is between you and your abuela, and it seems she thinks that too as your dad splutters out a noise to interject, but an old, wrinkled hand flies out, silencing him and it's the first time you've ever seen him shut up when he was told to.
So you know for more than one reason now that what you're going to hear next isn't going to be good. She loves your dad, and she still treats him like that.
You don't know what she's going to be like with someone she voluntarily disowned as a fucking kid.
"I knew you were still selfish… In spite of your father trying to convince me otherwise," she continues, and you lift your chin, exhaling loudly through your nose but you're titanium right now, even as your eyes flash to your dad to see him flare his nostrils. He stood up for you? "And I won't give you my blessing for this…" Your abuela trails off and her upper lip curls which makes venom curdle at the back of your throat when her eyes lock on to Brittany's stomach. "For this sin, you two have created," she finishes.
But this time, you don't feel so strong. This time, the sadness seeps into your chest until a single tear streams down your cheek as you're used to her going for you, but for your unborn child? That's fucking tough, but you somehow manage to hold yourself together. You clutch on to Brittany's hand as hard as possible, feeling her squeeze back and you can hear how hard she's breathing. You can feel how angry she is, as she's almost vibrating with the emotion and somewhere, you should've expected it.
Somewhere inside your mind, you should've realised that your abuela has gone too far, and that Brittany's been holding back since you got here. She held back on your parents, even demanded twice she go down and talk to them and you know her; she's beautiful, she's kind, she's generous, but she's fiercely loyal. She always has been and so you should've known that when your abuela clicks her tongue again, shakes her head, and goes to walk off, that she was going to react as it's the straw that broke the camel's back.
But you just didn't.
"You know what?" Brittany chimes in and your head turns, eyes flashing to her at the same time your dad's does, as your mom wanders up to join him, equally frightening as she picks up on the tension. You could cut it with a freaking knife. "That's fine, abuela," the blonde continues and nods her head, but you can see how angry she is. Her eyes are a hard blue, her jaw sharp and tight and all the telltale signs that she's going into defence mode are showing strong.
"Because we don't need your blessing, and we don't want it," she shrugs and your abuela glares, mouth opening to throw something toxic back, but Brittany takes a step forward, hand still wrapped around yours and silences her with a finger in the air. "No, it's my turn to talk. You've had your turn," she says and in any other situation, you'd find it hot, but you're far too shocked that she's spoken up at all and that shockingly, your abuela actually does shut up.
"You're wrong," Brittany states and all you can do is stare. What is she doing? "You don't know Santana, because you never bothered with her," she shakes her head and the tone in which she says it isn't aggressive, it's soft and you can tell it's pissing your abuela off by the way she seethes and presses her lips together. Brittany doesn't need to raise her voice to make her point. "She's beautiful, she's kind and she's brave," Brittany explains, like she's listening your traits and affection rises in your chest. She sees you in a way that no-one else does.
"She's everything you should want as a granddaughter. Everything you should be proud of, but for some reason, it's not enough for you," she sucks her lips in and drops your hand, which makes your palm sting but when you see her take another step towards your abuela, you understand. She's pitying her. "But nothing ever is enough for you, is it?" She questions, and your abuela's mouth opens to answer but Brittany shakes her head again, reaching out and gingerly placing her hand on to the older woman's shoulder. "Nothing will ever make you happy because you're bitter, you're selfish, and you're kind of annoying," she settles on, her face in a half wince as the words come out and again, the oxygen is sucked from the room.
You can't believe Brittany just said that, and your own mouth drops open in shock, eyes momentarily flitting to your dad to see the corner of his lip twitch up, like he's glad someone is finally saying it, but least you weren't wrong. He is scared of his mother and that's not a good, healthy relationship to have with a parent.
"I sat there, ten years ago listening you talk to her like that, and I stayed silent when you walked out but I'm not going to do that again," Brittany states and your heart skips a beat, chest blooming with adoration. "I picked up the pieces after you left, and I won't let make her, me, or our baby go through something like that again... That's just not an option."
Your heart grips, pain slicing through you as the memory is refreshed inside your brain. You remember crying yourself to sleep, night after night, when your abuela walked out on you and if you weren't already in a state of shock, you'd be that way because Brittany remembers.
Just like you do, and because of that, you can tell this has been a long time coming.
"You chose to come tonight, and you chose to pretend like everything was okay, but I'm choosing to stop you from hurting the mother of my child because you feel entitled to do for reasons I can't fathom," Brittany laughs out the sentence but there's no amusement in her eyes.
There's just sadness, anger, pity. There's all the things you know you'd hate if they were staring at you and your vision flits to your abuela as she shrinks back, clearly affected but her sneer is still very much present like she's not going to tolerate this, even if she doesn't have a choice.
You would know about that.
"Personally? I think you're brave and stupid for even turning up tonight," she shrugs, and your eyebrows shoot up for like the tenth time. She's on a freaking roll. "I wouldn't be able to do it if I were you, knowing I've acted the way you have and done the things you've done," she sighs and glances at your dad, holding his stare and showing the disappointment she feels for him, too, but he looks away guiltily, so she returns her attention back to your abuela. "I mean, you can't pretend like you don't know your own son is terrified of you, just like San said," she shrugs again, and you swallow thickly.
You don't know if you want to cry or laugh.
"But that confuses me," Brittany adds on, her voice dragging out like she's trying to solve an algebraic equation. "Because I don't understand how you can be aware of something like that and just not give a damn."
Blue eyes flit to your dad again, and you watch the way Brittany's hand drops back to her side, balling into fists so you take a step forward, sliding your hand around hers until she releases, and you can tangle your fingers together, but she doesn't look at you. Her shoulders drop though, like you're the calm wave she needed but you can feel there's more as your vision finds your abuela, glaring back, not physically breaking.
You think it's been building for too long to stop there.
"That's what you want though, isn't it?" Brittany asks and there's no answer again. "You want your family to be afraid of you, and you want to push them away," she states but your abuela is speechless.
You don't think you've ever seen her react like this before.
"Because you don't want the best for them, like you should do... You want the best for you," Brittany lifts a shoulder, looking genuinely disappointed that there isn't any fight, but it means her points are being confirmed. "So you're not going to take up the opportunity to make things right, to make amends and forgive yourself for your own sins," she fires with a venom in her voice that wasn't there before.
And that's what breaks your abuela. The sneer playing at her lips drops, all blood draining from her face and you're not sure what that means, but you just keep staring at Brittany, knowing she's your strength right now.
Plus, she obviously has more to say and you're here for it. No-one has ever spoken to abuela like this before.
"You're not going to even try, and the sad thing is... I know you won't," Brittany shrugs and lets out a long, disappointed breath through her nose, lips sucking into her mouth. "You're too stubborn, and too stupid to see what the Lopez name really means, so if that's what you want then good," her voice goes up a pitch, like she's actually pleased that your abuela is so hideous. "You stay stupid, and away from us because we don't need your blessing, or your approval…" She follows and squeezes your hand, like she needs you to agree with what she's doing, and you do, so you just squeeze back. "We'll be better off without you," she places her spare hand on her stomach and glares at the older woman and your entire body lights up when you realise what she's gesturing to; your baby, your family. "All of us."
The room falls silent, bar the sound of everyone fucking panting from the speech and you want to say something. You want to back Brittany up, to agree that you don't need her but words are failing you and so you do the only thing you can think of and nod your head. You clench your jaw, square your shoulders, and look your abuela in the eye as she processes everything she's just been called out on, but Brittany was right about a lot of things, but one of them stands out the most in this moment.
Your abuela is too stubborn to accept that she's in the wrong here.
And it seems she knows you won't agree with her, because she doesn't even try to see if you're in the same boat – you're navigating the damn thing – and so you lift your chin, about to verbalise that everything the blonde said was right, when old, dark eyes flash to the right, to your dad, and abuela is directing the question towards him.
"Are you going to let them speak to me like this, Michal?"
It's a terrifying moment. It's a moment where you freeze, because you know that you've just lost your abuela again – even if she's only been back for a matter of pointless hours – and this is where you could lose your parents, too. Sure, you have the support of Brittany's family, of your friends back in LA, but family is a whole other ball game, and you gave it the big talk earlier this morning, in the bathroom with Brittany, saying that they would either like this pregnancy or not, but you don't feel so confident now.
Because this is it, where your dad might remain being scared of his mom, of standing up for you – even though apparently he has at one point – and he might side with your abuela. He might disown you, just like you know she's going to do all over again and you're not sure you could handle that. You have your differences, but he's still your dad, and you know the relationship with your mom would mean you lose her too as that's how they work.
But when you hear the next few words spoken though, you realise you were just being stupid.
"Yes, I will because we support them," your dad announces, lifting his head high even though there's fear in his eyes. "And if you're not welcome in their lives, or our grandbaby's life, then you're not welcome in ours," he finishes, wrapping his arm around your mom and you don't know whether to laugh or cry.
You don't get to decide though, or even think about how this is a total contradiction of what happened last night, sat at the dinner table taking insult and lecture one after the other, because your abuela scoffs. She looks hurt, but she's like Brittany said, she's too stubborn and stupid to own up that she might be in the wrong, that her beliefs are total bullshit and without another word, she shakes her head and gives you her final opinion on the matter.
"Then I'll be leaving," she says, her voice wavering and you resist the urge to grab her by the shoulders and bring her into the 21st century, but you deserve better than that.
Brittany deserves better than that and so does your unborn child, and so you just watch the old woman hobble out of your life for the second time.
/
There isn't much talk after your abuela leaves.
You don't get to thank your dad, to forgive him for setting you up as your mom hands you the keys to the car and asks you to head back to the house as they'll finish clearing up. You came in separate cars, so you don't argue, and Brittany takes the keys, winding her arm around your waist as she escorts you outside and opens the door so you can climb into the passenger seat.
You're glad she's thinking clearly, as you haven't said a single thing since the confrontation, so you don't think you'd even be able to remember how to drive, and the journey is short. Brittany fills it with saying how cute your youngest cousins are, and whether or not your baby will have thick black hair like every Lopez does and it manages to distract you for a while as you make noises of acknowledgement, but otherwise stay quiet.
The house is dark, and you leave all the stuff in the car in favour of going inside. You can help tomorrow, and Brittany seems to know you need to go to get into bed and try to sleep pronto, as that's what you needed when you were a teenager.
Except when you're climbing the stairs, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket and for the first time tonight, you manage to focus on something other than the family trauma you've endured. You pull it out your jacket, eying the screen but your feet stop moving, breath stilling in your chest for like, the fifth time tonight when your register the name on the screen.
It's Mona, and you don't know why she's calling, or why God decided to put you through all this shit at one time, as it's just a stark reminder that you have more battles to fight that Brittany isn't even aware of yet, but whatever it is, it draws all the attention to it and you tear your gaze away from the device to look at her, a couple steps above you.
She turns, her brow furrowing and eyes narrowing, and she holds the banister as she looks over you. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you choke out, suddenly feeling hot and as much as it's a nice change from feeling numb, it's no better. "I-I've just gotta get this," you follow and drop your eyes to the screen, holding the phone against your chest in case she can see the name from here.
And it seems there's something in your face, or maybe it's the way your entire body language changed the second your phone rang, but either way, Brittany doesn't argue. She's done enough of that tonight, and you send a prayer to the heavens, hoping that she's not going to ask why you're being so weird, but you don't know how else to feel.
Less than an hour ago, you were being reminded of all the reasons you fell for her in the first place. You were being reminded of all the reasons why having a baby with her is a good thing, but it seems that the second you're happy, something has to come along and burst your bubble and remind you that this is just the beginning. That you're not the happy family you were pretending to be tonight, and that hits harder than watching your abuela walk out on you again.
Still, you try not to let it show on double back on yourself, walking backwards down the stairs, ignoring the blue eyes trained on you as you disappear into the kitchen to pick up.
/
Mona just called to check you were still on for Monday night.
If you're honest, you'd forgotten about it because of this weekend, and as you walk back up the steps, heading towards your bedroom, you convince yourself that it's because of everything to do with your family, and not Brittany.
But there's a nagging voice in the back of your skull, telling you that that isn't the reason, but you desperately ignore it and push open the door, peering inside to see the lamp on by your side of the bed, but Brittany's curled up in bed already.
You've only been gone for 5 minutes, so you know she hasn't fallen asleep as she way too worked up earlier just to calm down so quickly, but when you step in, you realise she's pretending to be. At first, you don't get it, and busy yourself by undressing and throwing on a sleep shirt and shorts, and you put your phone down on the side table before sliding into bed.
She doesn't turn, and you lower your breathing to pick up on hers as you lay on your back, not touching her but just double checking that she isn't actually asleep and has defied odds by doing that in under 5 minutes, but then she speaks and you realise why she's got her back to you, curled up on her side. Why she's not even looked at you since you walked in and despite all the events of tonight, this is by far the worst one.
"Who called?"
It's said so quietly that you wait a few seconds to process it, but then your mind puts two and two together and you think back to the look on her face when you were on the stairs. It's the same look she gave you after you came back from that night out with Kurt, after messing around with someone that wasn't her and as much as you thought that was sorted last weekend – you did have a brief conversation before slipping back into too comfortable familiarity – you're starting to realise it wasn't.
She knew you were acting weird, and it's too much for her to overthink about, so she's got it off her chest and asked.
Still though, it doesn't mean you feel comfortable being honest, even if you should be. You don't want to be, because you know that after tonight, Brittany's what you need. Maybe not in the romantic sense – even though that has run through your mind more times than appropriate in the past few day or so – but you need her as your best friend, and you just feel like this is going to ruin it.
It's going to pop the bubble, and the joy of the weekend (as fucked up as it may be) is going to come to a swift end.
But you can't lie, and so you swallow against the resistance inside your chest, letting your eyes closed as you release the thing you've been hiding and say, "I met someone."
If you thought the silence that followed Brittany's speech to your abuela earlier was painful, you were dead wrong. This is so much fucking worse because the first and only noise made is her gasping, but she doesn't turn and then the eeriness creeps in as you turn your head, eyes focusing on the blonde hair, your mind screaming at her to turn around so you can see her face. Although you guess why she's chosen that position to lay in when you came back so you can't see how she's taking this.
(You don't think well.)
She already knew who called you somehow, or at least had deep suspicion that it wasn't just Kurt or Mercedes or someone insignificant, and you count the following twenty seconds, wishing that she'd just say something or that you'd not said it, but you know there's no point in lying.
There's no point because this weekend has been make believe. You've managed to get the support of your parents and dealt with your abuela once and for all – despite that not being planned whatsoever – and had to pretend like you two were engaged, but that's it.
Tomorrow, you're returning back to the city, going on a date with someone that isn't Brittany, and the agreement from before still stands.
You two are just friends, having a baby together.
After long, long moments, Brittany finally moves, not shifting on to her back and not reaching out to touch you, just peering over her shoulder, meeting your eyes for a whole second before she says, "I'm happy for you," and goes back to her original position.
You don't know what else to say, what would make this situation better, so you just don't.
/
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