Fic: Back in Lima
Title: Back in Lima
Author: mallardeer
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Summary: When Henry is three, Brittany convinces Santana to take a week off in August to bring him home to their families.
Author’s Notes: I love Henry. I heard some of you do too. I also want to be able to love Puck.
When Henry is three, Brittany convinces Santana to take a week off in August to bring him home to their families. Santana grumbles. Even after all this time, she hates Lima, but her parents and Brittany’s parents are still there, and Brittany was talking to Alex the other day, and he’s going to be home, and so Santana gives in, having not seen her brother in almost two years.
They go to Santana’s parents’ place first, where it seems every Lopez Santana has ever met-even her family still in Puerto Rico-is there waiting to get their hands on the little boy. Fortunately, Henry is gregarious, and he remembers his abuelita, who hugs him tight and calls him Enrique, and he immediately takes a shine to Tio Alex, who scoops him up and sets him on his shoulder, introducing him as Little Ricky to all the other aunts and uncles and cousins.
Santana is exhausted, and her son is in more than capable hands, so she grabs her wife and sneaks away to her old bedroom. “Santana, your entire family is right downstairs,” Brittany admonishes, but Santana just shakes her head.
“Nap,” she begs, and Brittany smiles and lets herself be pulled down onto Santana’s bed.
“They kept it exactly the same,” she marvels, looking at the walls of what was practically her second bedroom, on which hang several remnants from their high school days: Cheerios ribbons and trophies, Cheerios pictures, glee pictures. Brittany finds one of her, Santana, and Puck, and she smiles. “When was the last time you talked to Puck?” she asks, but Santana grunts.
“Sleep,” she orders, and Brittany laughs, deciding they can talk later, so she just smooths Santana’s hair until her breathing grows deep and even.
The noises of a party going on in the backyard wake them both, and Santana panics, wondering what’s happened to Henry, but Brittany laughs and soothes her. “He’s with your family. He’s fine,” she insists, but Santana hurries downstairs anyway and out to the backyard, where at least three cousins try to push a beer into her hands.
“Where is my son?” she demands, and they all laugh at her.
“Somebody has him,” she’s assured over and over, but before she can go on an old-school murderous rampage, Brittany’s younger sister launches herself at her, and she has to laugh and hug her.
“I think I saw him with Puck and Alex,” Joanna offers, beaming at Santana.
“Puck is here?”
“Oh, sure. Your family’s parties are legendary. You think Puck would miss one?”
Santana can’t help but smile. It’s been months since she’s seen her old friend, and she knows Henry is fond of him. Puck has grown up a lot since they finished high school, and she doesn’t have a problem trusting him to take care of her son. Brittany soon joins her, squealing happily to see her sister, and then they both have to go say hello to Brittany’s parents, who are sitting at the picnic table, chatting with three of Santana’s aunts.
Then there is food, because Santana’s dad is only happy when everyone is eating, and Santana’s cousin Carla finally succeeds in putting a beer in her hand, and Santana looks around at her backyard, full of people who love her-and who love Brittany and their son-and she begins to relax. Brittany, a beer in her own hand, wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her hair. “This was a good idea I had,” she says, and Santana laughs, warm and loud and full, and Brittany soaks up the sound, beaming at her wife.
“You always have the best ideas, Britt,” Santana says fondly, and they share a smile.
Henry isn’t the only small Lopez there, of course, and Brittany spends the better part of the evening meeting everyone’s babies. Santana begins to worry she’ll ask her if they can have another one, but she’s distracted by Carla and Joaquin and Jake and Marco, who want to talk about the city and give her more beer. It’s nearly dark before she realizes she hasn’t yet seen Puck-or ever really discovered what has become of her son.
Alex and Joanna appear at her side, trying to hide mischievous grins, and immediately she scowls at both of them. There was a time when Alex and Joanna hated each other, but now that they’re grown up, they’ve put aside their differences in order to torment Santana. “What?” she demanded.
“I found Henry,” Joanna offers, and Santana’s eyes narrow. Once upon a time, that would have scared them both, but they’re not kids anymore, and Santana’s lost her power over them.
“And where is he, Joanna?” Santana asked sternly, but Joanna and Alex just laugh. “What, what? Did you and Puck give my son beer, and now there’s a drunk three-year-old running around our yard, Alejandro?” she asked, and Alex guffaws.
“No! Well. He didn’t like the beer, San!” Alex insists, and Joanna nearly dies laughing, falling against him.
Santana gives up. These two are fools, and they’re not going to help her. So she tries something else. “Noah Eli Puckerman!” she bellows, and almost instantly, a mohawk’d head pops up over by the swing set.
It takes everything in her not to laugh-Puck is thirty-two years old and still wearing his hair in a mohawk. Then, a smaller mohawk’d head pops up beside it, and Santana nearly falls over. Both heads turn, and Santana clenches her jaw as she meets her son’s eyes. He grins and tugs Puck over to her. Puck keeps his head down.
“Mama, Mama, Uncle Puck and Tio Alex gave me a haircut, see!” Henry says proudly, running his hand across the small strip of hair left on his head.
“I’m going to kill you,” she mutters at Puck, but she lifts Henry into her arms, managing to smile at him.
“Mama, do you like it?” Henry asks. “Uncle Puck says it’s super cool.”
Santana takes it in, her tiny son, his ridiculous haircut, his blinding smile, and she just sighs. The hair will grow back, after all. “Looks good, boy,” she makes herself say, and Henry whoops with joy and hugs her tight.
Puck looks at her hopefully, but she shoots him a glare he knows well, and he sighs and shuffles off, knowing once the little boy is asleep, he’ll be getting an earful from his friend.
Brittany finds them, and Henry propels himself from Santana’s arms into hers, babbling about his uncles and his new haircut. Of course, Brittany just laughs and smooths what’s left of her son’s hair, grinning over his head at Santana. “Is Uncle Puck still alive?” she asks, and Santana smirks.
“For now,” she says darkly, and Brittany leans over to kiss her, and then her son follows suit, and suddenly Santana finds it nearly impossible to be mad at anything.
Author: mallardeer
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Summary: When Henry is three, Brittany convinces Santana to take a week off in August to bring him home to their families.
Author’s Notes: I love Henry. I heard some of you do too. I also want to be able to love Puck.
When Henry is three, Brittany convinces Santana to take a week off in August to bring him home to their families. Santana grumbles. Even after all this time, she hates Lima, but her parents and Brittany’s parents are still there, and Brittany was talking to Alex the other day, and he’s going to be home, and so Santana gives in, having not seen her brother in almost two years.
They go to Santana’s parents’ place first, where it seems every Lopez Santana has ever met-even her family still in Puerto Rico-is there waiting to get their hands on the little boy. Fortunately, Henry is gregarious, and he remembers his abuelita, who hugs him tight and calls him Enrique, and he immediately takes a shine to Tio Alex, who scoops him up and sets him on his shoulder, introducing him as Little Ricky to all the other aunts and uncles and cousins.
Santana is exhausted, and her son is in more than capable hands, so she grabs her wife and sneaks away to her old bedroom. “Santana, your entire family is right downstairs,” Brittany admonishes, but Santana just shakes her head.
“Nap,” she begs, and Brittany smiles and lets herself be pulled down onto Santana’s bed.
“They kept it exactly the same,” she marvels, looking at the walls of what was practically her second bedroom, on which hang several remnants from their high school days: Cheerios ribbons and trophies, Cheerios pictures, glee pictures. Brittany finds one of her, Santana, and Puck, and she smiles. “When was the last time you talked to Puck?” she asks, but Santana grunts.
“Sleep,” she orders, and Brittany laughs, deciding they can talk later, so she just smooths Santana’s hair until her breathing grows deep and even.
The noises of a party going on in the backyard wake them both, and Santana panics, wondering what’s happened to Henry, but Brittany laughs and soothes her. “He’s with your family. He’s fine,” she insists, but Santana hurries downstairs anyway and out to the backyard, where at least three cousins try to push a beer into her hands.
“Where is my son?” she demands, and they all laugh at her.
“Somebody has him,” she’s assured over and over, but before she can go on an old-school murderous rampage, Brittany’s younger sister launches herself at her, and she has to laugh and hug her.
“I think I saw him with Puck and Alex,” Joanna offers, beaming at Santana.
“Puck is here?”
“Oh, sure. Your family’s parties are legendary. You think Puck would miss one?”
Santana can’t help but smile. It’s been months since she’s seen her old friend, and she knows Henry is fond of him. Puck has grown up a lot since they finished high school, and she doesn’t have a problem trusting him to take care of her son. Brittany soon joins her, squealing happily to see her sister, and then they both have to go say hello to Brittany’s parents, who are sitting at the picnic table, chatting with three of Santana’s aunts.
Then there is food, because Santana’s dad is only happy when everyone is eating, and Santana’s cousin Carla finally succeeds in putting a beer in her hand, and Santana looks around at her backyard, full of people who love her-and who love Brittany and their son-and she begins to relax. Brittany, a beer in her own hand, wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her hair. “This was a good idea I had,” she says, and Santana laughs, warm and loud and full, and Brittany soaks up the sound, beaming at her wife.
“You always have the best ideas, Britt,” Santana says fondly, and they share a smile.
Henry isn’t the only small Lopez there, of course, and Brittany spends the better part of the evening meeting everyone’s babies. Santana begins to worry she’ll ask her if they can have another one, but she’s distracted by Carla and Joaquin and Jake and Marco, who want to talk about the city and give her more beer. It’s nearly dark before she realizes she hasn’t yet seen Puck-or ever really discovered what has become of her son.
Alex and Joanna appear at her side, trying to hide mischievous grins, and immediately she scowls at both of them. There was a time when Alex and Joanna hated each other, but now that they’re grown up, they’ve put aside their differences in order to torment Santana. “What?” she demanded.
“I found Henry,” Joanna offers, and Santana’s eyes narrow. Once upon a time, that would have scared them both, but they’re not kids anymore, and Santana’s lost her power over them.
“And where is he, Joanna?” Santana asked sternly, but Joanna and Alex just laugh. “What, what? Did you and Puck give my son beer, and now there’s a drunk three-year-old running around our yard, Alejandro?” she asked, and Alex guffaws.
“No! Well. He didn’t like the beer, San!” Alex insists, and Joanna nearly dies laughing, falling against him.
Santana gives up. These two are fools, and they’re not going to help her. So she tries something else. “Noah Eli Puckerman!” she bellows, and almost instantly, a mohawk’d head pops up over by the swing set.
It takes everything in her not to laugh-Puck is thirty-two years old and still wearing his hair in a mohawk. Then, a smaller mohawk’d head pops up beside it, and Santana nearly falls over. Both heads turn, and Santana clenches her jaw as she meets her son’s eyes. He grins and tugs Puck over to her. Puck keeps his head down.
“Mama, Mama, Uncle Puck and Tio Alex gave me a haircut, see!” Henry says proudly, running his hand across the small strip of hair left on his head.
“I’m going to kill you,” she mutters at Puck, but she lifts Henry into her arms, managing to smile at him.
“Mama, do you like it?” Henry asks. “Uncle Puck says it’s super cool.”
Santana takes it in, her tiny son, his ridiculous haircut, his blinding smile, and she just sighs. The hair will grow back, after all. “Looks good, boy,” she makes herself say, and Henry whoops with joy and hugs her tight.
Puck looks at her hopefully, but she shoots him a glare he knows well, and he sighs and shuffles off, knowing once the little boy is asleep, he’ll be getting an earful from his friend.
Brittany finds them, and Henry propels himself from Santana’s arms into hers, babbling about his uncles and his new haircut. Of course, Brittany just laughs and smooths what’s left of her son’s hair, grinning over his head at Santana. “Is Uncle Puck still alive?” she asks, and Santana smirks.
“For now,” she says darkly, and Brittany leans over to kiss her, and then her son follows suit, and suddenly Santana finds it nearly impossible to be mad at anything.