The first thing that Santana noticed when she woke up was that she was alone in their bed. She rolled over into the little stack of pillows that Quinn had made behind her to replace the feel of a body, but she couldn't replace the missing warmth of Quinn's arms wrapped around her. She would admit it to no one, but she liked it best when she got to fall asleep inside of Quinn's arms. So what… she liked being the small spoon. She was smaller than Quinn, so it just made sense.
She stretched, listening to various joints crack. Yep, she definitely wasn't eighteen anymore. She was just months away from 30, married, and…well that 'and' was going to take some getting used to, but at least Santana was up for the challenge.
"Babe?" she called, even though she knew she was alone in the apartment. Where was Quinn? On the days that Santana had to be to at work by 7:00, especially if that day was Monday, Quinn didn't normally get up until Santana was leaving to head out. And considering how little sleep they had gotten the night before, she was surprised that Quinn was even functioning, much less out of the apartment. Santana was thinking about calling Quinn when she saw the note sitting on top of her cell phone. Santana smiled softly to herself at the placement of Quinn's letter, but then she frowned at the wording. Did she need to get away from Santana?
She and Quinn had talked through some fairly serious topics last night, and they had had a couple of rough days. Hell, it was just a rough month. Had Phillip been the final straw? Quinn had seemed okay with it the day before, but Santana knew her wife, knew how good she was at pretending. What if Quinn had finally just had enough and she was done with them? Santana hated that that's the place where her mind went, but she hadn't exactly been the best wife so far, and she had kind of just dumped a whole lot on Quinn. Santana could only imagine how well she'd take it if the roles had been reversed.
Santana was startled out of her thoughts when her phone suddenly lit up, seconds before 'It's Raining Men' started to play.
Santana picked up the phone, and rolled her eyes in preparation before she said, "Hello, Mrs. Warbler.
"Santana we have been friends for more than 10 years now. Don't you think that you could, I don't know, stop with the insults?"
"That wasn't an insult! Are you or are you not Mr. Blaine Anderson? At least I stopped calling you Porcelain, and it's only been nine years. Don't go adding years that don't belong. You have to earn those, bitch!"
She could feel Kurt roll his eyes through the phone. It brought back memories of their times at the Bushwick loft when Kurt and Rachel were the wonder twins, and Santana had learned how to not throttle them day in and day out. Happy times. "Alright then, Satan, have it your way."
"I'm sorry, Kurt. Look, mature Santana is now on the phone. What can she do for you?"
There was a cautious silence. "Although I fully expected to be picking either your, or Quinn's body up from the morgue by now, and the fact that you two haven't managed to kill each other yet defies the laws of nature, it indeed appears that this is real and not some elaborate ruse, and thus Blaine and I accept your invitation."
"You already RSVP'd, Madam Bovary. And if you were honestly getting back to us this late in the game, you would be sitting in the back of the ballroom. Next to the cats."
"Iknowwe already RSVP'd but as one of your closest friends, one whom you haven't seen foryears,"
"Hey, it's not my fault that you got married, got involved with your career, and became completely not fun-"
Kurt cleared his throat. "I just felt the need to tell you that you and Quinn, while terrifying, makes sense. And we're happy for you." God, she forgot that Kurt had the tendency to speak in wes. "I'm really just calling to let you know that Blaine and I were able to get away from work, so we'll be in town early-,"
Santana thought she knew where this was going, and she wanted to nip that idea in the bud. "If you're looking for lodging, no can do. The moms are already going to be here, and they get dibs." She and Quinn hadn't yet worked out if Quinn should just stay at her place with Judy and Maribel would stay at Santana's place with her, or if the moms should take Quinn's apartment, and they keep hers. Santana was more in favor of the latter because it meant that she didn't have to spend a whole day of her precious time cleaning the apartment to Maribel Lopez standards.
Kurt seemed affronted. "That's, not…you do know that there are these things called hotels, and between the two of us I'm quite sure we could afford one."
It wasn't a jab about money. Not really, and Santana didn't take it as such, but there was that momentary quiet because Kurt and Blaine made a lot of it. Nearly $300,000 a year between them, which was nearly double what Quinn and her combined income was. That fact actually didn't bother Santana at all. She knew people who were surviving on $30,000 a year, hell Puck wasn't that far from it.
Despite the amount of money that Kurt and Blaine made, however, if Santana said that she had an air mattress with Kurt's name on it, well he'd complain about it the whole night, but he'd be sleeping on it, nonetheless. (Berry would demand use of the bed, but she would crowd into the apartment just as quickly, too). "And anyway, Mercedes has already extended guest space to us, thank you very much."
Santana had a new thing to add to the list when she and Quinn got their place together: more space. "I'm sorry, Kurt. What has made me lucky enough to hear your voice, and so early in the morning at that?"
He huffed. "I was calling," Kurt kind of snapped, "because you and our dear Quinn's bachelorette parties are going to be separated into two camps, and since Puck is in charge of yours, that means I'll be with Quinn's camp, so I was calling if you would like to get together with me and Rachel beforehand. You know, just to reconnect."
Santana was touched, but she couldn't help but get in a jab, or two. "Kurt, hon, you don't have to fear the vagina. Besides, Quinn-," she almost made the mistake of saying that Quinn would kill her if she had a stripper at her bachelorette party, but she caught herself. No need for everyone and their mother to know how much power Quinn wielded over her.
"I don'tfearthe v-jay," he said, drawing the word out, "I just think they're gross."
"You do realize that you came from one, right?"
He shuddered. "Don't remind me."
"Are you really going to go to Quinn's bachelorette party?" Santana thought about pulling out the 'but you'remyfriend' card, and decided against it. "I would love to get together with you and Berry when you guys get here," Santana said, instead. She thought about her words, and reconsidered, "Just run that sentence through my sarcasm filter," she instructed.
"I always do," Kurt assured her. You couldn't be close friends with Santana this long without knowing how to be friends with her.
"So does that mean that Blaine will be joining us, then?" She already knew that she owed her 'bachelorette' party to Puck, and that meant that Jake would be there, as well as Brittany, Sugar (she hadn't actually been invited to the reception, Quinn had just gotten an RSVP back from her out of the blue), Sam (which wasn'tcoolbut it's not like he could go to Quinn's), Artie (see Sam), and Tina. Add in two of Santana's cousins, and Dex and Nichols from work, it was sure to be a party…just without any of that annoying singing that tended to happen whenever Rachel Berry was involved. And without a stripper.
Although…the last one had worked out pretty nicely.
"Santana!" Kurt said sharply.
She remembered she was still on the phone. She also remembered that she and Quinn weren't having sex at the moment so even if Quinn reprised her schoolmarm role, it wouldn't be half as fun, and she'd just end up with a sore bottom instead of jealous sex.
"Sorry, Kurt, got distracted. That sounds great."
There was a lull in the conversation. "Well?" Kurt finally demanded impatiently.
"Well what?"
"How'd you do it?"
"How did I do what?"
"The proposal!" Kurt said excitedly. "How'd you end up proposing? Please say you made a huge, grand gesture, declaring Quinn the love of your life, and perhaps a flash mob? Was there a flash mob?" Santana was disgusted by how utterly happy he was about the idea of that, when flash mobs had gone out of fashion just as quickly as they had gone into it.
"No, it wasn't a reprisal of the Klaine phenom. we were all subjected to participate in, Warbler. It was-,"
She paused. While Santana didn't usually have any reservations about the things she did, and she still felt like her proposal was brilliant, her proposal wasn't one that she actually felt like sharing with people. True, not everyone could have every show choir that they had ever competed against help sing a proposal, but still, most people might not understand her decision to propose to Quinn while they were in bed. Specifically, while they were getting busy. At the time of the proposal, however, Santana was using the bet between her and Puck as a ruse for the two of them to get married, and if Santana had gone all out, Quinn would have known that her feelings for Quinn were a lot deeper than she projected when she first proposed.
"Nice and quiet," she finished.
"Oh, God," Kurt gasped, please tell me you did not subject to her aSantana Lopez special."
Santana huffed. "I'll have you know, I can be very romantic."
"You proposed while having sex, didn't you?" Kurt gasped. "Santana! Do you not know who you married? Quinn's the kind of girl that needs a big, extravagant gesture."
"My proposal was fine," Santana said.
"Until it comes back to bite you on the ass 10 years down the line." Santana decided that Kurt didn't really know what he was talking about. Martin had simply proposed to Quinn while they were at a restaurant. There was no grand gesture behind his proposal, and anyway, there were extenuating circumstances with Santana's proposal. Quinn knew better, now, than to think that the two of them were only together because of a dollar bet. "I think you should re-propose," Kurt said. "I'll already coming early so it would be no hassle for me to plan out something fabulous, and Rachel-,"
"No, no, and no. This was all the Hobbit's idea, wasn't it? She just wants a chance to sing in front of a large crowd in public. I don't need another proposal, we're already married anyway, and Quinn knows me."
"I'm just saying," Kurt drawled. "It's that one moment every girl dreams about. Well, besides the wedding."
Santana wasn't worried there because between the moms and her, Quinn was getting the reception of her dreams. But the proposal. She was kind of regretting her proposal. She bit down on her lip. Damn Kurt! But if they were doing over the wedding, was it really that big of a stretch to do over the proposal too?
"I'll consider it, but no singing," Santana said, firmly. "And I mean that!"
"Oh, don't worry. I'll make sure Rachel knows. Just wait. Quinn's going to love it!" he said excitedly.
Santana hung up, feeling mildly excited about seeing the wonder twins again. Kurt hadn't really said anything she hadn't already been thinking about. She had long since thought about giving Quinn a…she didn't want to sayrealproposal-because damn it, a sex-proposal was a good damn proposal-so not real, but a different one. One that made Quinn feel like a princess in a Disney movie, or some corny shit like that.
Quinn was one of those who needed to be shown over and over again that she was loved, because she wouldn't believe it the first ten dozen times she heard it, and even then she would doubt it. She wasn't someone you loved quickly, she was a slow burning love. Santana still had things worked out and planned for 5 and 20 years down the road to continuously show her just how much, and how long, she loved her. Santana hadn'tsaidthe actual words, yet, because she knew Quinn wasn't ready to hear them, and wouldn't be until she could actually say the words herself. But she tried to show Quinn.
Surprising her with Phil, and Hazel, and her past, wasn't the best way, she knew, and there was honestly only so much of herself that she could give to her wife, so to make up for it, the parts that she could give, she wanted to give entirely. They were a work in progress, and for people like Quinn and Santana, that was the best thing for them; neither of them did-or knew how to trust-easy.They needed hard, they needed something to work for. If they had had a 'happily ever after' ending after they'd gotten married, they would have been divorced in a matter of years, maybe even months. That wasn't them. But…it didn't hurt to get a little sentimental every now and then.
She saw that she had a missed call, and that it was from Bryne. Well it was from a private number and the voicemail sounded like an old modem dialing up, so she knew it was from Bryne. Either that or it was Paulson, but Paulson usually left voicemails. She attempted to dial Bryne first, and got no answer, so she dialed Paulson who answered the phone almost immediately. "If you're calling to confirm that you got the tickets, you're a bit tardy in doing so."
"I'm not calling to do that; I didn't realize that was expected of me since it was delivered by signed courier."
"Will your wife be joining you?"
"No," Santana snapped, although this was technically her employer, and snapping was an occupational hazard.
"Iamsorry that your honeymoon is being interrupted, but your brand of expertise was needed, I didn't have another agent who is half as good, and as I said before, you're talking about a vacation; this, however, is a matter of national security." Santana wanted to roll her eyes becauseeverythingwas a matter of national security. "Did you upload the schematics?"
It was habit for Santana to look around, even though she knew that she was home alone. She sat down in front of her laptop, pulling up the files. "I did."
"I read your report, but I would still like to know what your take on it is?"
"It's apparent that the equipment has been tampered with, and within the past two weeks at that. If it were hot, you would have had me packing sooner, so why is it that we're sitting on this?"
"Because the second we touch it, it becomes known that someone was looking into it. Our target finds out, they get spooked and flee."
"Why the weekend of August 27th?"
"September 3rd the state fair is scheduled. Lots of trailers and big equipment moving around. Fireworks. Huge crowds, police will be occupied, emergency services will be tied up; if I were going to move something large and conspicuous, it would be the best time to do it."
"Is there a better visual on the back left corner of the warehouse? There was something there that I found suspect."
"No. It's blocked from view, and there's an overhang making it almost impossible to get a satellite image of it. Which is another reason why you're being sent there. Bryne will get close enough to get the images for you. I'm sending you some more information, as we speak."
"Okay, I'll take a look at it before I go into work and when I get off."
"I'll anticipate hearing back from you."
No more pleasantries were exchanged before the phone was hung up. Santana yawned, hoping that this didn't meant that this was the start of a very long day. She quickly texted her wife:Missed you this morning.And added,I'll be looking forward to you making it up to me ;-).To eliminate some of the sappiness she finished with a simple,Have a good day.
So Santana was sprung, sue her, but it really did suck waking up to an empty bed when you're used to waking up in someone's arms.
She decided: it was going to be a long day.
If looks could kill, Quinn would have been reduced to a pile of ashes where she stood. Melinda Lopez should have teamed up with Sue Sylvester when they were in high school, because in sheer ferociousness they were evenly yoked. Quinn didn't want to admit it, but Santana's grandmother had always been terrifying to her. When Quinn had attended mass with Santana and her abuela, Melinda had sat straight backed in the pew, one eye trained on the priest, the other trained on Santana, a wooden spoon in her purse ready to bring it down on the back of Santana's hand if she caught her misbehaving in church (granted, Santana did often misbehave in church). She was a no non-sense kind of woman. Not the grandma who would have cookies waiting for you, but the kind that you respectfully called 'ma'am', and you tiptoed around, and you cringed when she yelled your name but went rushing to see what she wanted whenever she did.
Just like she would never classify Russell as an exemplary man, there was no mistaking Melinda as a nice woman. She tacked insults on to the end of her sentences as if they were people's names. She was harsh and bitter, and sad…and Santana loved her almost as much as she loved her own mother. That was the thing about love. Melinda may have been mean and insulting, most people may not have found anything redeeming in her, but the people that loved her, loved her in despite of her faults. Whenever Santana talked about her abuela, whether it be an anecdote about learning how to ride a bike, or something unflattering her abuela said to her, it was said mostly fondly. Quinn was sure that if the grandmother was anything like the granddaughter, then there were two Melinda Lopezes, the woman Melinda had to be for the world, and then the private Melinda.
Quinn wanted to see the good that Santana saw in her abuela. But she didn't see any now. All she saw was nearly familiar brown eyes narrowed in anger, with a look of outright disgust twisting her features. Mrs. Lopez's body quietly shook. "Howdareyou," she seethed. "How dare you come to my home, and stand there, and…and steal a claim my dear Antonio's name?!"
It was Quinn's go-to emotion to snap back when someone snapped at her, but she knew in this situation that would be the worst thing possible. She willed herself to stay calm. "I didn't steal anything. ItookSantana's name when we got married."
"Married!" Mrs. Lopez spit, actually spit, to the side of Quinn. "I don't know what you and Santana think you're doing, but whatever it is, it isn't marriage. It's filth, that's what it is, and that you would dare to even sully my Antonio's memory by coming here!"
Melinda looked as if perhaps she would enjoy very much strangling Quinn. Quinn resisted the urge to take a step back, standing her ground. "With all due respect, Mrs. Lopez, when you have kids and give them a name, it is theirs to either keep or give away. Santana chose to give hers away to me, and I chose to keep it. She chose to invite me into her family, into your family,"
"Your depravity will never be a part of my family. I want you gone, now!"
"I came here to talk to you."
"This is private property, and you are trespassing. If you don't leave now-"
"I'm only asking for five minutes of your time."
"I want you gone!"
"I'm not leaving without saying what I came here to say." A bit of the Fabray temper won out. "If you won't listen to me say it quietly, respectfully, I will stand out on the sidewalk and shout it for all of your neighbors to hear."
"Respect?" Mrs. Lopez shrieked while somehow still managing to keep her voice down. "You kids today, you know nothing of respect. I would have never had the audacity to stand there so impudently in front of my elders, and demand that they listen to filth, or threaten them in their own home."
Quinn had a moment of pause; Melinda had a point. To an extent. "I didn't mean that to be a threat, I am asking you, please, for Santana, to listen to me. Family means a lot to your granddaughter. It means everything to her."
"If Santana cared anything about her family she wouldn't have dared to bring such shame to it!"
"Your granddaughter is one of the most tenacious, courageous, and secretly generous people that I know. She puts others first before she thinks of herself. She is a protector, she is charitable, and she can be very kind, which is everything that she was raised to be. She is a beautiful person that you are refusing to extend even common human courtesy to because she doesn't fit into some mold that you have cast for her. If that is shameful…"
"She turned her back on God; she turned her back on her family."
"No,youturned your back on her! Her secret, private, business was aired for everyone in Ohio to see, and you couldn't even extend a set of arms for her to rush into. Instead you cast her aside and told her that you didn't want to see her anymore. That she was no longer worthy, as a human being, for human comfort. For love."
"We all have our crosses to bear. This world is cruel and unjust, that is fact. Do you think that I did everything that I wanted to do? No, I knew that life was about sacrifice, about sucking it up and keeping your shame to yourself."
"You refer to her as if she murdered someone!" Melinda bit on her inner cheek; Quinn could see how in her eyes it was one in the same. "When we were in high school, one of our classmates, David Karofsky, attempted to kill himself because he was so shamed for being gay that he decided that he didn't want to live anymore." This statement was met with a frown, a turn down of the lips on Melinda's part.Good, seemed to radiate from her unforgiving frame.
"When we found out, our teacher had us all think about the things that we wanted to live for, and you know what your granddaughter said?" Melinda's features turned haughty. "She didn't say that she wanted to live to 'curse god', as you would probably claim, or to grow up and get married, and have kids, or spend the rest of her life with her girlfriend. The thing that Santana said that she was living for was the day that you loved her again."
There was a flicker of recognition in Mrs. Lopez's eyes, but then they hardened just as quickly. "She made her choice," Melinda repeated, slower this time. "If she had any respect for her family-,"
"She would, what? Stop existing? Santana didn't choose this, but even if she did, so what? Why is it so bad that she loves differently than you?"
"Because it is against God!" Melinda said fiercely. "It is clear:any man who lies with man as he would with a woman, the two have done something detestable. They must be executed; their blood is on their own hands."
Quinn nodded solemnly. "Okay," she said. "So would you like to kill her with stones or with a shotgun?"
Melinda looked startled. "What?"
"You just said it: she obviously must be executed. And since you feel the offence is against you, it's only fair that you lead the charge. That's what you want right? So will it be death by stoning or do you want a clean kill, simple bullet to the head?"
Mrs. Lopez scowled. "Don't be ridiculous girl."
"That is what you just said. Her sin is so great that she must die for it, and also burn in hell. For eternity. Do you know why we don't abide by Old Testament rules? Because if we did, we'd have three people left on this planet. Because all of that stoning, and casting out, and avenging that the Old Testament talks about just creates a bloodlust that there's no cure for."
"It's condemned in the New Testament, too."
Quinn nodded. "You're right. I think it is mentioned…3or 4 times in the New Testament. 7 times total in the bible. 7. It mentions forgiveness more than 10 times that, and it mentions love something like 551 times, so you tell me, which is more important? I grew up in the church, I've read my bible from front to back. I know what it says. I know what it says about being gay, and I know how it's interpreted. I also know what it says about false prophets, about calling something unclean after it's been made clean, and casting the first stone. But none of that matters because no one gets to say with the utmost sincerity that they know the actual will of God, or that your belief in a God means that Santana and I, or anyone else gets to fall underneath your judgment."
Quinn could see the shutting down that always seemed to be there whenever you questioned someone's faith, and honestly, that wasn't what she came her for. Quinn hadn't given up on her faith; she still believed. She just didn't solely believe that Christianity had it all right, and everyone else was wrong, nor did anyone have the right to try to foist their own beliefs on someone else just because it was what they believed.
Quinn decided to change tactics, slightly. "You loved your husband, correct?"
Her back straightened, and her head jutted up. "Yes, I did."
"Ever since you were a teenager, Santana said. You loved him so much that even after he died, you still carry him with you."
Melinda frown/smiled. "He was agoodman."
"How would you have felt if you had been told that it was wrong for you to love him, that God condemned your love for him? That you weren't worthy of your grandmother's love because you loved him? Or, while you were busy mourning the one great love of your life, someone told you that he was burning in hell, and it was good that he was dead because there's one last of him in the world?"
"Our love was not an abomination unto God!"
"He was of a different nationality than you, wasn't he? There's bible verses against that. How is it that your relationship is sanctioned by God, and ours isn't? Are you so confident that you know God's will that you can speak for him? Our love is just as worthy of recognition, as validity.
"I cannot say without a shadow of a doubt that I'm the love of Santana's life, but she's the love of mine. I have waited my whole life to know a love like she gives me. It is because I love her that I'm standing here in front of you. She wants you to come to our reception, she wants you to be there. You are her family, and you always will be. She's not asking you for your acceptance, just your attendance."
Melinda shuffled impatiently. Quinn knew it was time to wrap it up. "No matter how slighted you feel, Santana will always be your granddaughter. And while you want to stew over supposed wrongs against you, I want to remind you what Jesus said in the parable of sheep and goats: 'Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me. They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?' "He will reply, 'Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.'"
Quinn handed the woman an invitation to the reception. Honestly, she expected Mrs. Lopez to drop it on the ground, maybe step on it a few times, but she didn't. Her hand tightened angrily around the paper. "You can go now," she said abruptly.
Quinn wondered if there was anything else she could say. She had given it her best shot. "Thank you for listening," she finally mustered, before she turned back towards her car, and started the drive to Columbus.
Santana checked her cell, subconsciously looking for a text from Quinn that just wasn't there. Santana stomach grumbled and she fired off a text.Lunch? You can pick.She waited for 15 minutes for a response, and when she didn't get one, she sent out another text, this time to a different recipient.Meet me for lunch?
She didn't have to wait long for an answer.Your treat?
Santana bit down on her lip.Of course.
She received an answering text with the name of the restaurant, and a time. Quinn still hadn't answered her by the time she was walking into Whiskey Saigon. Whiskey was mostly a night club, but ever since 2014, during the day they ran a restaurant, and of course it would be here that she'd want to go because of its proximity to the college. Santana quickly scanned the space, getting a feel for her surroundings.
She felt a hand on the small of her back and almost stiffened but caught herself just in time. Santana went to her calm place, a beachside resort on some deserted island, that somehow had room service, and of course, Quinn beside her. It was ironic, in a way. When she had nothing to be angry about, she was always angry and lashed out at nearly everyone. Now that she had plenty to be angry about, she had obtained some Zen about the whole thing.This is necessary, she reminded herself.
Santana plastered a smile on her face, and worked really hard to make it seem genuine. "Hi, Jenna," Santana greeted her. As much as she didn't want to be anywhere near Jenna, this situation wasn't a schoolyard fight, and Santana didn't need Jenna thinking she was an enemy.
Jenna stepped around at the same time Santana turned so that they could face each other. Jenna's eyes took in Santana, unashamedly checking her out. "Santana. I was a little surprised by your invitation."
They were seated away from the front entrance. "I wanted to apologize," Santana explained calmly. Jenna looked surprised by the statement. Jenna knew the depths of Santana's anger. She also knew that Santana had a healthy fear of her. "Let's blame my outburst on the alcohol."
Jenna gave her a scrutinizing look while at the same time managing to seem haughty. "Let's say that was the issue. What makes you want to apologize?"
Santana gave a casual shrug of the shoulder. "We live in the same city; we need to be able to get along with each other. We used to."
Jenna seemed to be considering Santana's words. Santana knew who Jenna knew, Jenna onlythoughtthat she knew who Santana knew. Santana also had some pretty damning physical evidence against Jenna, too, that Santana had once shown to her. Jenna completely had the upper hand in the situation, but she didn't know that.
"To be honest, baby gay, there's no animosity at all on my end." She shrugged. "I tried to pick up a girl, she decided not to go home with me." Jenna apparently was feeling generous. "If I had to take a guess, I'd say she was only interested because we resemble each other."
Santana resisted every urge to bite her lip at that statement. Jenna gave Santana the elevator eye, shaking her head in disappointment. "It is a shame the way things happened between us. If you ever change your mind," Jenna said, leadingly.
"I know where to find you." Santana forced a smile on her face. "The sex would've been hot, but you know I've got a thing for blondes." Jenna laughed, and Santana gave a lighter one in return.
"I just don't get that," she said as an aside. "Never found a blonde I found attractive. Except for your wife."
"She' not a natural blonde."
"That'd probably explain it," Jenna said with a chuckle. "We're cool, baby gay." Santana gave a firm nod. They shook hands. Jenna gave a slight chuckle. "Maybe I should stop calling you that, because you're finally growing up. You see how easy things can get resolved when you don't act like some whiny bitch?"
Santana managed to make it through lunch, but as soon as she and Jenna had parted ways, Santana rushed to the closest bathroom and emptied the contents of her stomach.
Quinn pulled up in front of Russell's house shortly after 1:00. She had only visited her father here a handful of times, and each time was as unnerving as the last. The woman that Russell had left Judy for had probably looked something like Quinn did when she was in the middle of her skank days, except she had purple hair, instead of pink, and had far more tattoos. Quinn had never met the woman, hadn't even so much as entertained a phone call from Russell for all of junior, and most of her senior year, and by then Russell had moved on to a woman who had an uncanny resemblance to Emma Pillsbury. She was who Russell was currently with, and every day that passed she kept anticipating the phone call from Frannie, or her mother, letting her know she had a sibling on the way.
Russell's wife, whose name was Prudence, of all things, appeared in the doorway after Quinn cut the engine, a warm smile on her face, her red hair shining brightly in the afternoon sun. "Quinn!" she called excitedly, her light gray eyes sparkling even though Quinn had never mustered anything more than a grimace at this woman. "I'm so glad you came to visit! I'm on my way back to work, so that should give you and Russ some privacy, but I made a lunch for you, and it's waiting on the table. He's happy that you're here, you know. Oh, by the way, congratulations on your marriage to Santana!"
It rubbed Quinn all kinds of wrong at this woman's statements though it surprised her that the woman was so cavalier about her marriage to Santana. I guess the tattoo-covered purple-headed freak had loosened her father's overly religious boots.
"Thank you," Quinn said politely. Prudence gave her one last smile before she got into her car and backed out of the driveway.
Quinn looked at the door that was left open, and faced it with a sense of dread. She had to do this, thogh, as a good will gesture to her wife. In the slightly longer than an hour and a half drive from Lima to Columbus, Quinn had had a lot of time to think. She had reamed her wife for Santana wanting her to at least attempt to make amends with her father, but the arguments that she had come up with for why Santana's abuela should make amends for Santana made her a bit of a hypocrite. How could he tell Melinda that she was wrong for disowning her granddaughter, when Quinn refused her father's audience? And she really did want to resolve some of her issues with Russell because he couldn't be hanging over her life, and her marriage the entire time. The only thing was, it was easy to say you're going to do this when you're miles away, but being here was different.
She must have been standing outside for a considerable amount of time because Russell appeared in the doorway. "Foods getting cold, Lucy. You can do your thinking in front of a nice meal as well as you can on the sidewalk."
Quinn forced her feet to propel her forward. Her father stepped back enough to let her walk by, before leading her into the kitchen. The house wasn't much different than the one that she had grown up in; a little smaller since it was just him and Prudence. The floor plan was similar enough that Quinn could have found the dining room on her own, even.
This was the life that she had wanted, she thought as she followed in Russell's footsteps. This was the life she would have had with Martin, with Biff, with maybe everyone else but Puck. A house with crown modeling, and granite countertops; a house made from a model that looked just like every other house in the neighborhood with the exception of a breakfast nook here, or a grand room there.
"You blew me away, when you called," Russell told her as she sat down. He pushed her chair in. "I was glad to hear from you, Lucy. I miss you."
"Quinn," Quinn corrected.
He apologized. "I still forget, from time to time. Quinn."
"I want you to know, I'm only here because of Santana," Quinn blurted. Russell cocked an eyebrow, and waited for her to go on. "She thinks that I should invite you to the reception. I don't want to."
Russell dipped his spoon into the soup, his eyes on his youngest daughter. "I figured that may have been the case when I didn't receive an invite. Any particular reason?"
"I don't want you to come. I don't want you in my life. I want to forget about you. Forget about what you did. At times I'm almost positive that I hate you."
Methodically, Russell continued to eat, but his eyes never left Quinn's, and she was distracted by it enough to marvel how not even a drop didn't make it to his mouth. She could only imagine what was going through Russell's mind because his face didn't show expression. "Santana and my first big fight was over you," Quinn went on.
Russell finally spoke, "I'm sorry to hear that."
"She was insistent that you come to the reception, and I couldn't understand why she didn't understand why I was against it."
The spoon went back down to the bowl, but this time it stayed there. Russell looked older than Quinn remembered, She wondered when was the last time that she had actually just stopped to take her father in. His face was lined, tired, his build more round than it had been when she was a kid growing up. He wasn't as imposing as he used to be, but he was still her father.
"If you don't want me there, Quinn, then I won't be."
"Why do youwantto be there?" Quinn demanded. That was the thing she couldn't figure out. This was the man who had kicked her out of the house. Who told her she was no longer his daughter, and didn't check to find out that she was okay, that she was taken care of, that his pregnant daughter wasn't on the street.
"I know you think that I'm this huge, evil guy, Quinn, but I did what I thought was best."
"You threw me out on the streets!"
"Because I was blind-sided. I thought I was sitting down to a meal with my daughter's new beau, and I find out that she's pregnant. You lied to us Quinn! I didn't even know that you were having sex."
"How is that your business?"
"It's my business because you were living under my roof, and until you turned 18 years old you were my legal responsibility. I could actually go to jail for the things that you do, and as your father, you weren't just my legal responsibility; I had a moral responsibility to you. To raise you with the proper set of values that would carry you throughout life."
"Because casting someone away who displeases you is the proper way to parent."
"I made a mistake; I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have left Judy, either. Adults do go through things, too, Quinn. I was going through something at that time. I felt suffocated by my marriage, and by my family, and I was an ass. All I can say to that is that I'm sorry. If you want to be mad at me for the rest of my life because of the way I raised you, then that will make me incredibly said, but I'd understand.Idon't really like my parents. Any time I cried, or I hurt myself, or I wasn't tough enough, my father would yell at me to 'be a man'. When I disobeyed, I got the belt, or sometimes even a tree branch. I was raised to be the best, to do the best. Everything that I did was a reflection of the Fabray name.
"That's how I was raised, so that's how I raised you and your sister. You don't just turn 18 and suddenly shed everything that made you up in the years prior. It never occurred to me that there was anything wrong with the way I was raised. It wasn't to the same standards as maybe everyone else, maybe, but I was a Fabray, and Fabray's stood above the rest. I might not have liked the way that I was raised, but I still loved my parents. If I were to ask my mom or dad why they raised me the way they did, they would tell me that they did what they did out of love.
"There's no manual, Quinn. You're a mother, now, so you know that. You getting pregnant, I saw that as my failure. I grew up believing that the man is the spiritual head of the household, that it is my duty to see to your mental, physical, and spiritual well-being. You getting pregnant I saw as my own failure. My failure to parent you, my failure to protect you. My failure to help you be everything that you were meant to be."
"You never seemed too concerned with me before. Not until I became Quinn."
Russell shook his head. "You'resixyears younger than Frannie. Your first kid, you wear kid gloves. You chase after them with every footstep, you pick them up every time they fall, and you worry about everyone who comes within 20 feet of your child. You're uptight, and you make mistakes. Your next kid, you don't freak out as much. You're more relaxed. You might miss filling in every page of their baby book but that doesn't mean that you don't love themjustas much.
"I apologize for the moments where I fell short, or where you feel I fell short, but I won't apologize for being hard with you, because look at you. You've got a decent, well-paying job with lots of potential, you graduated fromtwoIvy League Schools, and you have the presence of mind to go after what you want. The jury's still out on that girl that you chose to marry-,"
"She's a woman," Quinn corrected, "not a girl, and she's my wife. If you can't show her that respect, then-,"
Russell chuckled, softly. "Quinnie. I meant no disrespect, I only meant that I don't know her very well. I…didn't allow myself to get to know her when you two were teenagers. I let my prejudice against her, and her family cloud any opportunity I ever had to get to know her as you two grew up. It's good, that you stand up for her. I'm glad you found someone that you love, Quinn, I really, really am."
"Thank you," Quinn said, sincerely.
"And judging by the way I saw her look at you the day that you got married, and the talking to she gave me, I can tell that she really loves you, too."
Quinn nodded. "She drives me bat-shit crazy, and I swear I want to strangle her every other day, but she's mine. She's mine, and I want to love her. I want to be able to be honest, and open with her,"as much as I can, anyway,she verbally amended, "but I don't know how. I've never felt loved. I never felt like I was important enough to anyone for someone towantto love me. And I can't help thinking, that there's some ulterior motive. I'm scared to hope, to be vulnerable, to let myself go because of all the crap that's happened to me in the past.
"I can't behappywith my life, because I don't trust happiness."
Russell looked at his daughter, his youngest. "Love is fear," he spoke. "Otherwise it wouldn't be called the most courageous act. Your mother and I, we weren't lovers. We weren't even really friends. We just were. We settled for each other because Judy was what I was supposed to want in a wife, and I was what Judy was supposed to want. I wish, I wish I could tell you, that everything's going to work out, that your marriage will last forever, that it all falls into place, but it doesn't. There's no such thing as perfection. I'm learning that. But even still, just because it doesn't exist, there's nothing wrong with striving for it anyway. Withwantingthat. It's what we all do, day in and day out. Strive.
"And I didn't raise you to give up."
Santana was playing on her system when Quinn walked into the door at 7:48. "Hey, babe," Santana greeted, as soon as the front door opened. She gave a look over the couch, smiling. "Puck, gotta go, wife's home." Santana appeared to be listening to something Puck was saying. Her eyes didn't leave Quinn's. "So what if I am?" she challenged. "Lopez out." The game shut off.
"Hi," Quinn greeted her wife. Her eyes took in Santana, starting with the top of her hair, and moving down as far as she could before her body was blocked by the couch. God, but she was beautiful. So, so very beautiful. "How was your day?"
Santana grimaced. "Terrible. I woke up, and your big ass was all gone. What am I supposed to do with a pillow fort? I can't cuddle with your lumpy pillows."
Quinn moved toward the couch. "Is that you finally admitting that you like to cuddle?"
Santana blew out a breath. "I only do it for your benefit," she said, dismissively. "Hey, before you sit down, can you grab me a beer?"
Quinn blinked. "Are you serious, San? You've been home for four hours, and you wait until I get home to want a beer?"
"No!" Santana said indignantly. "I just thought about it when you walked through the door. Your plate's waiting for you in the microwave, so you have to go in there to get it anyway, and I figure, hey, kill two birds with one stone."
Quinn shook her head, heading past the couch. "Hey wait-!" Santana called, reaching for Quinn at the same time. She hooked her hand, and pulled her on to the couch. Santana nuzzled her on the neck. "Mmm, now that's better." Quinn silently agreed, relaxing into her wife's embrace. "I missed this all day long," she spoke softly into Quinn's soft skin. "You didn't return my text."
"I was driving when you sent it, and you know how I am about texting and driving."
Santana nodded. "Yes, I know."
"When I saw it, too much time had passed. I would have loved to have lunch with you, though. I thought about you all day."
Santana placed a kiss on her neck. "Did you, babe?"
Quinn nodded. "Were you thinking about how terrible of a wife I am?" Again, Quinn nodded. "That was it exactly." She turned towards her wife, turning her head so they were looking into each other's eyes. "You've beensoterrible," she said sarcastically.
Santana's eyes lit up. "I've been really naughty haven't…damn it!"
Quinn smiled when she realized the reason for Santana's expletive. "Now you know how I feel," she said blithely.
"I do know how you feel," Santana agreed, but it was obvious by the look on her face that she meant something different than what Quinn had meant. Santana was Santana, and Santana had gone for the sexual. "I know how you feel when you're clenching around me right before you come, when you're pulling my hair, and begging me not to stop." She winked. "Yep, I know exactly how you feel."
Just for good measure, she slipped a finger in her mouth, and damn, this woman.For better or worse.
Santana gave Quinn an uncertain smile when Quinn didn't react to what Santana said, only stared at her as if blinking had gone out of style. She gave a semi-nervous chuckle. "Your staring's starting to creep me out, baby. I know I'm like that hotness, but you're looking like you want to make a mask of my face, and that's some creepy 'A' shit. Plus, you need to eat, because I can hear your tummy grumbling, and I need my beer, and if you hurry back, I'll massage your back while you eat, because I'm feeling generous."
Quinn got up, but Santana decided to get up with her, her hand not leaving her waist, penguin- walking her into the kitchen. After Quinn set the time for the microwave, she turned in Santana's arms so she could see her. "You're being clingy."
"I'm not," Santana protested.
"What'd you do now?"
Santana plastered an angelic smile on her face. "Nothing. I woke up without you, and I'm making up for lost time. It really threw off my day. You keep me warm. Why'd you leave out so early?"
"There was something that I had to do."
Santana appeared to think about it. "Did you do it?"
Quinn nodded. "I think so, yeah. How was your day?"
"I told you, crappy." Her face lit up. "Oh…but guess who called me today."
"Who?"
"Kurt."
"Really?"
"Yep."
"What about?"
"Just about him and Blaine coming a little early. I learned something valuable today, too. Want to hear it?"
"What's that?"
"Everybody talks too much," Santana whispered, before she wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck, and pressed her lips to Quinn's in a kiss that didn't seem likely to end any time soon.