When Santana got to the car, Quinn was siting practically hunched up in the passenger seat, staring blankly at the concrete wall in front of her. Santana tentatively approached the car and got in. "Quinn?"
Quinn cut her off. "If you're going to make some joke about that, please don't."
Santana placed a hand on top of Quinn's. "I wasn't. I'm sorry; I didn't know Brittany was going to do that."
"Santana, please just be quiet," Quinn said, softly. "Can we just go home, now?"
Inwardly, Santana actually considered it a small victory that she had said 'home' and not 'your apartment'. "Sure, babe, yeah."
Santana turned the car on and pointed it in the direction of home. As soon as she unlocked the door, Quinn went straight into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind her. Santana, who had been following almost in her footsteps, recoiled when the door nearly slammed in her face. She knocked. "Quinn? Baby?"
"Leave me alone, Santana."
Santana flinched at what she was about to say. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not now, Santana!"
Santana stood outside the door of the bedroom for a few minutes longer before she went back into the living room with a resigned sigh. She didn't want to disturb Quinn with the TV, for obvious reasons the Internet felt like a betrayer, and she didn't think her mind could concentrate on a big people's book, so she dug into her collection of children's books which were just as good, and often more profound. She started off withGreen Eggs and Hambecause really, what other book out there could so completely sum up the complexities of the human spirit and make you feel better after you may or may not have just lost your best friend and screwed things up with your wife?
She moved on toHorton Hears a Who,but couldn't finish it because it just made her seem that much sadder.One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fishgot her back to where she wanted to be, andFox in Soxalmost put a smile on her face, but then she had to quit Dr. Seuss because too much of it could make your head hurt. So she moved on toAlexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day,which seemed so apropos, thenRainbow Fishwhich made her think of Brittany, and almost caused her to cry, until finally she settled onStellaluna, which of course made her want to call her mom. So she did.
She answered on the first ring. "Carina it's way too early for you to be calling me about marital problems," Maribel said in greeting.
"Who says that's why I'm calling?" Santana whined.
"So you're not? Well then, lo siento, mija, pido disculpas. I apologize for jumping to conclusions." It sounded less like an apology and more like her mother was laughing at her. "Why are you calling me, then, my sweet princesa?"
"I should have called to talk to dad," Santana pouted.
"No, no, talk. What's wrong?"
"Okay, so I am calling about marital problems," Santana admitted. She quickly gave her mom a quick recap of the past couple of days.
"That bitch!" Maribel hissed when she got to the part aboutFondue for Two. Although Santana was known for lapsing into Spanish rants when she was really angry, her mother was the opposite. Terms of endearment, of love, excited exclamations (or the very rare calling someone a cheap whore) were spoken in Spanish, while "filthy words" were almost always said in English.
"Mother!"
"What, mija! I've never liked that scrawny ditz," Maribel said. "I'm just glad I can finally say that!"
Santana wasn't sure why but she felt the need to defend Brittany. "She's my best friend!"
"She didn't sound very friendly," her mother stressed. Santana found it hard to argue, and she hadn't even told her mother about the rest, about Brittany kissing her. She heard Mercedes words in her head and knew that she had to tell Quinn about that, but she really didn't want to. If she could help it, she didn't want to bring it up before the reception. Damn it: going on Brittany's show was supposed to make thingsbetter.
"I don't know what was going through Brittany's mind," Santana admitted. "But now Quinn's sad, and this was supposed to make up for something before, and things just went from bad to worse, and I don't know what to do about it, mami!"
"Mija, it sounds to me like what you really need to be doing is to talk to her about everything that's going on between you two, and not me, and not Puck, and not to the internet, and you really need to get on this reception thing, and pronto. Comprende?"
"Yo entiendo, mami. Trust me, Puck's already explained the whole meaning behind the reception/wedding that we already had thingy, which is what I was doing, or trying to do when I went onFondue for Two.You know, show her that I care about the event and everything."
"Okay, so go say all that to your wife."
"She's upset right now, and I'm trying to give her some space."
"You know what I call that, mija-,"
"Procrastination. Si, mami, I , wish me luck."
"Suerte, mija."
Santana had just ended the call when her phone was ringing again in her hand. "Hello?"
"What thehellwas that?"
Although Santana was thrilled by this brief reprieve from actually having to face Quinn, she would have preferred if it could have been anyone else. Well, except maybe Berry.
"It wasn't my fault!" Santana protested. "Brittany snowballed me! I wasn't expecting her to do that."
Mercedes sucked her teeth. "No? You mean you had no clue that Brittany might harbor some resentment over Quinn, and might take advantage of an opportunity to air some of that resentment? Really?" She was making it seem like Santana was really dumb at the moment. She continued in the same semi-patronizing voice. "Santana, please tell me how it is that you are smart enough to figure out that Quinn and Finn were cheating by just alookand yet you haven't yet figured out that your two best friends can't actually stand each other?"
Out of all possible combinations of words that Santana expected to hear spoken from the Diva, those were never it. Why was everybody suddenly ganging up on Brittany? "Ummm…hello, we're the Unholy Trinity, remember? Of course they like each other!"
"You think so?" Mercedes questioned. "Tell me again, how many times in the past were the two of them alone with each other? How many sleepovers did the two of them have just Quinn and Brittany? How many times did you see them dance together when we were singing in Glee? How many times were they involved in anything without you being there?"
"Tons!" Santana said immediately, because honestly she couldn't fathom having missed something like that.
"Really? That often. Huh, I must have missed it. So how many times a week does Brittany call Quinn upjustto chat?"
Santana had to think about it, and couldn't say because of course she didn't monitor Quinn's phone call conversations. "I don't know who Quinn talks to on the phone!"
"Take it from someone who used to live with her, they aren't friendly with each other. The only time Quinn would mention Brittany was if she was talking about you. When she was pregnant, Brittany didn't come by our house even once. When she was in the hospital, Brittany never stopped by to visit. When Quinn went off to Yale, they didn't continue to talk to each other. They might have sent each other Christmas or birthday cards, I don't know. I doubt it, though, because they're not friends. I don't know why that is," her tone suggested otherwise. She snapped her fingers. "Oh, maybe it's because they always felt like they were fighting over someone," Mercedes said airily. "Gee, I wonder who it could be?"
Santana couldn't give Mercedes words any weight until she had time to actually process them. Of course Quinn and Brittany liked each other. They were besties. Besides, she had more pressing things to attend to. "So, since you know Quinn so well, how do I fix this? Cause if I dig myself any further into a hole, I'll be looking at China."
"Ooh, if you end up there, can you get me a keychain of like the Great Wall?"
"You're not helpful, Mercedes."
"Just saving my energy for when I have to comfort Quinn, Satan."
Well then why the hell did you call for, Santana felt like shouting after she hung up with Mercedes. Her eyes were drawn to the door of the bedroom, where she imagined that Quinn was waiting like an angry dragon, or even worse. What if she was at the other end of the spectrum entirely? Quinn could practically cry on command. She wasn't sure she could handle her tears.
God showed that she was indeed one of His favored children when, once again, her phone rang, forestalling the conversation she was about to have with her wife. This time it was her dad which only meant one thing.
"You married a woman with a big mouth," Santana began the conversation.
"Watch yours, Santana," her dad warned sternly. "You're not too old to get popped in it. She is forever and will always be your mom."
"Sorry, dad."
"And yes, she does have a big mouth," he agreed. "She explained to me your situation, so I thought that I could pass down some timeless advice that my daddy once shared with me."
"I could pretty much use anything at this point."
"I don't know how lesbian relationships work, you know like when it comes to how things go in the relationship with there being two girls and what not, but my dad offered me this golden nugget of advice, so I am passing it on to you. He said 'Pedro, you are a Lopez, and when it comes to the women that we marry, no matter what, you're always wrong. Youalwaysapologize first. It doesn't matter if you told her that if she lights a candle the house is going to explode, and she lights a candle and then the house explodes. Somehow, you are wrong for that. Apologize, and move on'."
"But-,"
Mr. Lopez didn't give her the chance to interrupt. "Apologize, and move on," he repeated, saying the words slower and with more weight this time. "Happy wife, happy life."
That seemed to be the extent to the conversation, and he hung up almost immediately after.Well, fine,Santana thoughtbut this totally and irrefutable means that I carry the ovaries in our relationship. And hey shewaswrong about the reception. She'd admit that. Well, not wrong so much as incommunicative. She was also willing to go as far as to say that she hadcontributedto Quinn's frustration, and while she couldn't have done anything, or really have known that Brittany was going to embarrass Quinn like that, if she had just ponytailed up and told Quinn that she was excited about the reception, then she wouldn't have needed the show to do it for her (except that it would have been totally awesome for Samile Rose to have performed at their reception).
Santana paused for a few more minutes just to see if God would show his intervention one last time and have Puck or someone else call, but no dice. Santana put her phone on the charger just to gain herself a few more seconds, then went searching for Quinn's phone because Quinnalwayswas forgetting to charge it. When she finally made it into the bedroom, Quinn was either fast asleep, or doing a fair job of pretending that she was. Santana sighed in relief, before placing a kiss on her forehead, and curling around her wife. "Good night, babe."
Santana woke up bright and early the next morning, rolling out of bed as soon as her eyes were open so she could get started on breakfast. Not only had Santana so far kept her promise about making breakfast on Saturday mornings, she was pretty compulsive about it. She looked up recipes frequently throughout the week, even set an alarm so she wouldn't oversleep. She actually looked forward to getting up to cook for her wife. It was nice to have someone to cook for. Because Santana had a lot more to do than usual, she had woken up earlier. She wanted things to be absolutely perfect for Quinn, feeling with certainty that a full stomach made unpleasant conversations slightly less unpleasant.
She didn't actually have a kitchen table (or a dining room table either for that matter), so she set out a spread on the counter buffet she was done with preparing the meal, the last thing she always did on Saturday mornings was to set a pot of coffee on so Quinn's subconscious knew that when she smelled coffee it was time to wake up. (The Keurig was used only for the mundane, less dramatic, week day and Sunday breakfasts). Before she turned it on, she gave one last survey of her work. She was proud of herself. She had gone all out this morning, her pièce de résistancebeing a platter of perfectly fried bacon. She had almost not needed the coffee to bring her wife out of bed.
Santana picked up her remote and rushed over to Quinn as soon as she emerged from the bedroom. "Morning," she said, placing a kiss on her lips. "Are you feeling better?"
Quinn didn't answer, her eyes taking in the spread in front of her. It looked a lot like guilt. Her eyes landed on the cupcakes at the end of the counter. There were seven of them, arranged in an arc, each a different color, with different color frosting on them. "What're those?"
Santana gestured proudly. "Those are your coming out cakes. One for each color of the rainbow; that's like our flag or something. I told you I'd make you a cake, and I said what I meant and meant what I said, so congrats! You're now one of us!" Santana pushed a button on her remote andI'm coming outflooded the apartment.
Quinn's lips tightened, but she couldn't honestly say if it was from trying not to smile, or because she was agitated. When Santana's hip started to sway, and she flashed her an irresistible smile, her own smile won out, and she allowed Santana to take her hands. They danced around the kitchen together, singing along with the words. Santana sang most of the chorus while Quinn chimed in with the "I'm coming outs".
"So what's the meaning of all this?" she questioned, once the music had subsided, and she was leaning against the counter.
A more sober expression landed on Santana's face. She sat down on the barstool and pulled Quinn to her. "I'm sorry about Brittany." Quinn got a pinched look on her face. "Honestly, babe, I didn't know she was going to do that. It shocked me, too. It wasn't cool, and I told her that that kind of stuff can't happen again. She's my best friend, but you're my wife.
"Also, I'm sorry that the show was a disaster; I was just trying to show you that I care about the reception, and all the work that you've put into it. I know that I haven't put, like, a lot of effort into helping you, but I'm going to be like the energizer bunny from now on. I promise. We've got all day today to work on anything that we need to work on: menus, patterns, anything, and I've got to work tomorrow, but mami is going to be available for video chat all day, and as soon as I get home from work you can put me to work."
"You have to work on Sunday?" Quinn questioned, skeptically. Santana didn't exactly have a 9-5 but she'd so far always had the weekends off. She felt slightly bad about having doubts about Santana's honesty, especially after Santana had just said that she had put her before Brittany.
"Every now and then I do. Paulianne needed someone to come in, and I volunteered, which is why I was off early on Friday. And I just have to say, we gotta start going out and doingsomethingon Friday nights, cause we are way too young to be sitting at home like we're old and have forgotten how to have fun."
Quinn thought over Santana's words. "You mean like a date?"
Santana paused, like actually froze. "Yea."
"You want to?" Quinn questioned. "We've never gone on one before."
"Well, I might," Santana said leadingly, "you know, if you asked me correctly."
Quinn's hesitation was brief. "Santana, will you go on a date with me next weekend?"
Santana's head bobbed eagerly, leaning in to give her a kiss. "Well, duh. It's about time you asked, Flopez."
"Okay, no," Quinn said, almost as soon as the utterance was said. "That has Puck all over it, which, no, just no. You do know I have a first name, right?"
"Of course I know you do, babe," Santana winked at her. "I enjoy screaming it out."
Quinn just flashed a smile that was created expressly for dealing with Santana. She leaned into her, brushing her lips as lightly as possible over them.
Santana left Quinn to finish eating her breakfast while she got ready for the day, leaving her with the special playlist she had created. When the playlist got toLa Vie, Boheme, it was so outrageous that Quinn played it again just to make sure that she'd actually heard the things she thought she did. Her first run through, had her lips thinning out, and she had a look of nausea on her features. The next run through she listened more aware of the lyrics this time, and just as disgusted as she'd been the first time. The third run through, she was singing along with the parts that she had figured out.
"You're supposed to scream when it gets to the part about bisexuals, Quinn."
Quinn did scream, then, because she had so not heard the shower cut off, or Santana enter the room. Santana laughed, even as Quinn's hand lightly slapped her arm. "Not funny!"
"Sorry, baby," Santana whispered, smiling as she said it.
"What the hell is this?" Quinn questioned. Santana didn't immediately know what she was talking about, a new song,We Are Family!had started playing.
"We are family?"
"No, the one about the gays." Santana hid a laugh at the way Quinn had whispered the word gay, despite the fact that they were alone in their kitchen, at home, and that she was married and had been having sex with a woman for nine years.
She remembered the song that Quinn had been listening to when she came into the room. "La Vie Boheme? It's from RENT."
Santana nearly had a heart attack at the next words out of Quinn's mouth. "What is RENT?" She gripped the countertop for support. No one could say that Santana was one to like show tunes, but she had discovered RENT in the $5 bargain bin at Wal-Mart when she was smack dab in the middle of herAm I in love with Brittany? stage of life. She had gotten 40 minutes into it the first time she watched, got disgusted and turned it off. It'd taken her a whole year before she attempted to watch it again, this time making it as far as Rosario Dawson dancing on stage, and decided that since she had gotten this far, she might keep watching. The image was enough to push her into the second act, where she decided that she could get over the fact that they kept freaking singing becauseLa Vie Bohemecould have been a portrait of her life; even without the lines about being gay in it.
"How do you not know whatRENTis? The song Mercedes and Rachel sang in their diva-off was from that play, and the gay woman, Maureen, happens to look an awful lot like your baby's mom. Besides, Rent's like the national anthem for every 'other' out there!"
Quinn shifted uncomfortably. "Until I married you, San, I've never actually been an other." She gestured to her blonde hair, her hazel eyes, her ramrod straight nose. All things (well, except for the eyes unless you counted the use of contacts) that had actually been purchased.
"Hate to break it to you, babe, but even without being bi-, you're still an other: you had a baby at 16, you were confined to a wheel chair, and you willingly,willinglystayed in Glee even when you didn't have to. Granted, you have all the freedom of walking down the street and not being harassed by the cops, and no one confuses you or treats you like you're the maid, but you were still born an other. Deal with it baby!"
Quinn's merely rolled her eyes in answer. And then her eye roll landed on Santana and she realized that the woman was wearing nothing but a towel. Her eyes swept along the parts of her body that were partly on display. Santana caught her flat out gawking, and she chuckled. "Go take a shower, Quinn, so we can go."
Quinn was still eyeing her body. "Where are we going?" Quinn questioned.
"I figure there's places that you need to drag me to, and what not, and I thought while we're out," Santana paused to pick up a piece of fruit, merely to have something to do, "we might as well open a joint account."
Quinn didn't follow. "A joint account at what?"
Santana appeared to be studying very hard a crack in the counter. "The bank, Quinn."
Quinn felt something stir in the pit of her belly. It was almost like arousal, but wasn't quite. Fear maybe. "You want to open a joint bank account?"
Santana shrugged, still playing with the food. "Well, yeah. It's kind of what married people do, you know? You don't like have to put in all of your savings in it or anything, I mean, if you have any, or your whole paycheck or anything, but I was thinking that we should at least havesomethingin a joint account for the times that we shop for each other, things like that. I'm pretty responsible when it comes to money, and I'm just going to assume that you are, too; when I was reading up on WASPs and their habits, I think I read something that said something about the bank being part of your natural habitat."
"Oh, that is so not funny," Quinn chastised. She felt her eyes drawn to Santana's fidgeting hand. She could tell that this was something that Santana really seemed to want.
"I'm not saying no," she said slowly, "but don't you think it's a bit soon, the whole bank account thing?"
Santana shrugged as if the thought had never occurred to her at all. "If you don't want to, we don't have to, it's not like I'm going to pressure you into it or something, but I just figured why not? I'm not too fussed about length of time and building trust cause it doesn't really matter how long we've been married; we never signed a pre-nup. So, if we end up getting a divorce you could totally shanghai me if you wanted to, anyway."
She focused on the most pressing part of that statement. How had they not gotten a pre-nup? Okay, so quickie weddings tended to not have all the paperwork worked out, but she could have even sworn that Santana had been singing along toGold Diggerthe very day that they got their wedding license. Not only did she have no idea what Santana made, she didn't even know what Santanadidfor a living. Their apartments were pretty comparable (Quinn's was a little bigger), so she figured that meant their financial situations were probably the same as well, but that was just guessing. Who doesn't sign a pre-nup?
Quinn wondered if Santana could hear her thoughts because the next words out of her mouth were, "If I don't ever intend to get a divorce, why sign one? I mean if things go seriously south between us, I'll probably just kill you. Kidding, babe!" She said quickly at the look on Quinn's face. "I swear, I'm just kidding. Think it over, yeah? It doesn't have to be today, or ever, just a thought."
Santana went into the bedroom to go change into clothes, and Quinn went off to shower. She heard the chime on her phone just as she was getting out. When another one came a few seconds later, she got curious, and went searching it out, smiled at the fact that Santana had put on the charger for her. The smile fell from her face, though, when she saw the text message that had been sent, her eyes reading, and rereading the words that had accompanied the picture text:Just thought you should know.