fic: building homes from what we've known, part ii - glee, brittany/santana, nc-17
Title: Building Homes From What We've Known, Part II (3/3)
Author: zerodetorres
Characters: Brittany/Santana, Mike/Quinn, Matt, Puck
Rating: NC-17
Length: 5,145/15,315
Timeline: AU
Summary: Santana Lopez fights for her family.
"Wow, this place is gorgeous," Brittany marvels, staring up at the small bure that would be their home for the next week.
"Q wasn't kidding when she said we'd be ten steps from the ocean."
Santana dumps her suitcase near the front entrance and sets out to explore the cabin. Brittany follows close behind. There's a small kitchenette stocked with food that'll last them their stay, a den-like area with wicker furniture that appears slightly uncomfortable but will probably be appreciated in the heat. Finally, the bedroom houses a king-sized bed with a canopy overhead, and Santana waggles her eyebrows suggestively at Brittany on their way to check out the bathroom.
Brittany rolls her eyes. "You're shameless."
"I'm just saying," Santana shrugs. "Those sheets look nice. I think we might need a new bedspread at home soon. That's all."
Brittany giggles. "Right."
Santana laughs. "Yeah, I'm totally hitting on you. Is it working?"
Brittany responds by pressing her lips against Santana's for a soft kiss. She laces their fingers together, and after a quick look at the bathroom, they head outside. A hammock stretches between two banana trees, and nearby, gorgeous red hisbiscus bloom. The sound of gentle waves crashing into the shore serves as a gentle backdrop. The Fijian sun burns down sharply, and it's hot and humid, but not uncomfortably so.
Brittany kicks off her shoes and runs halfway down the beach, motioning for Santana to follow. Santana leans down and plucks an orchid before racing Brittany to the edge of the water.
"Hey."
Brittany turns around and smiles affectionately. "Hi."
Santana twirls the flower in her hand for a moment before stepping forward and tucking the stem behind Brittany's ear.
"You aren't supposed to pick any!" Brittany scolds, but she's still smiling as she tries to take a peek at the ornament.
"Too bad," Santana replies, pulling Brittany closer. "It looks pretty on you."
"You would look prettier on me," Brittany suggests, eyelashes batting.
Santana laughs. "Who's hitting on who now?"
Brittany turns toward the ocean, squinting into the horizon. "Are we going to be one of those lovey-dovey married couples who can't keep their hands off each other?"
"Babe," Santana says, thoroughly amused, "that was us way before we decided to get hitched."
"The world is so big," Brittany muses. "How did we find each other?"
"Well," Santana laughs, almost in disbelief of the journey they've taken to get here. "You found me and dragged me along until I realized you weren't really pulling and I was still moving."
The corners of Brittany's lips twitch, and she watches the waves for a moment, then, "Do you believe in soul mates?"
"No," Santana replies, a little more firmly than she means to.
"No?"
Santana shrugs. "Believing in soul mates makes people lazy. If it's predestined, why even bother trying? You gotta-I don't know, fight for everything you want."
"Being soul mates is not a guarantee," Brittany explains. "It's just knowing that there's one person who understands you better than anyone else, and who can learn to love you no matter what. What you do with that is up to you."
Santana takes Brittany's hand in hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. "You're my person."
Brittany leans in and presses a kiss to Santana's cheek. "I know." And even though it's been years and years, and Santana doesn't really need the reassurance, Brittany nudges Santana's wrist and smiles. "And you are mine."
--
"You can come in, you know." Brittany squints against the blinding sun. "It's a dance studio, not a leper colony."
Santana pushes herself off the railing that she'd been leaning against. "Yeah, well..." She motions at her attire and the duffel bag at her feet. "Fresh from the gym."
Brittany blinks. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Nothing, I just-" Santana looks down and takes a deep breath. "Brittany. Can we talk?"
"I'm not going to be your secret friend, Santana," Brittany says, her words kind but firm.
Santana shuts her eyes to stave off tears. "I know. That's not why I'm-" She takes a breath. "I really like kissing you, Britt," she admits quietly.
Brittany steps closer. "Me too."
"You're a girl, and it's confusing, but it just feels right." Santana kicks nervously at her duffel bag. "Fuck it. Be my girlfriend."
Brittany's features shift slowly from confusion to delight. "Really?"
"Yeah, really." Santana smiles a little, feeling her own heartbeat pounding hard. "You want to?"
"Yeah, totally."
"Okay." Santana laughs, reaching out to grab Brittany's hand and pull her closer. "Okay, I-okay."
Brittany leans in, and her lips are suddenly against Santana's, kissing her. Santana reacts, hands curving over Brittany's hips as she feels hot pleasure undulate through her body at the contact. Brittany pulls away first and smiles.
"Can you promise me one thing?" Brittany blinks, eyes searching. "Will you talk to me when something's bothering you? And always be honest with me?"
Santana grins. "Yeah, Britt, I can totally do that. I promise."
--
On the fourth night of their vacation, after a day spent lounging on the beach and making out under the shade of palm trees like a pair of hormonal teenagers, Santana finds herself curled up in the hammock next to Brittany. The night air is quiet, warm, and the stars are brighter than any she remembers seeing back home.
Santana's palm glides up Brittany's bare hip, fingertips stretching to cover as much skin as she can reach. Brittany nuzzles her face against Santana's neck and laughs softly; Santana doesn't think she'll ever tire of the sound. Santana shifts, turning until her hand is pressed against Brittany's abdomen, and Brittany smiles into dark skin.
Santana doesn't even realize what she's saying until the words are out of her mouth. "One day, a little blond girl who looks just like you is going to walk this earth, and I'm going to love her as much as I love you."
Brittany lifts her head, eyes bright and optimistic. "When?"
"This is-" Santana laughs nervously, fearing she's revealed too much. "This is a big talk, Britt."
"Yeah, but..." Brittany's shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. "We're going to have to talk about it someday, right?"
"You're right. Okay." She turns to face Brittany. "So how do we want to do this?"
"One of us gets pregnant," Brittany explains, hinting obviousness, "and nine months later..."
Santana laughs. "I know. I mean, how? And... who?"
"I'll carry," Brittany offers immediately.
Santana bites her lip. "You'd have to give up dancing."
"Just for a little while." Brittany shifts, gently rocking the hammock. "I'd probably only need a few weeks off near the end when I get too big to run around with the kids."
Santana anchors herself against the edge of the hammock and rolls over, straddling Brittany's thigh. "Are you sure?"
"It's a baby, Santana," Brittany says softly, blinking from behind her eyelashes. "Yeah, I'm sure."
Leaning down to dot kisses along Brittany's jaw, Santana smiles. "You are amazing."
"We could always adopt a little Asian girl instead," Brittany muses after a moment.
But Santana knows that neither of them are naïve enough to believe that they'd be successful at international adoption, where regulations are tougher and same-sex parents don't stand a chance. Brittany smiles sadly, as though the realization suddenly dawns on her.
"Maybe," Santana says slyly, squeezing her thighs together and loving the way Brittany's body momentarily tightens under hers. "Maybe if I try hard enough, I'll get you pregnant."
Brittany laughs. "Santana."
But Santana is already playing with Brittany's bikini top. "No harm in trying."
Brittany's back arches to Santana's touch. "No harm in trying," she agrees.
Santana slips out of her own bikini top and tugs her shorts down, kicking them away. Brittany quickly does the same. It's difficult to gain any leverage on the hammock, but Santana holds herself up and takes a moment to admire Brittany's body under the glow of moonlight. She leans closer, pressing kisses down the column of Brittany's neck as her hand travels south, over the plane of Brittany's abdomen, down to the apex of Brittany's thighs. Her fingertips rest against Brittany's clit for a moment before lightly pinching, and Brittany gasps, hands gripping Santana's shoulders as she squirms against the friction.
Santana moves lower, finds moisture, and dips the tips of two fingers inside. Brittany bucks her hips, moans when Santana sinks deeper and starts thrusting, her thumb drawing circles around Brittany's clit.
"Faster," Brittany manages to gasp, eyelids fluttering as she throws her head back.
Santana complies, adding a third finger and picking up the pace. She slides her body lower, her lips closing around a nipple. Her other hand finds Brittany's, and their fingers interlock, palms pressed together. Santana brings their hands up to rest beside Brittany's head, and the tattoos inked on their wrists touch.
Brittany smiles. "Santana?"
"Mhm?" Santana murmurs, twirling her tongue. Her fingers work quickly between Brittany's thighs, twisting and curling as they thrust in and out.
Brittany's breathing quickens until she's panting, hips jerking to meet Santana's hand. "Kiss me."
Pushing herself higher, Santana leaves a trail of kisses over the top of Brittany's breast, across her collarbone, up the length of her neck, and finally, their lips meet in a slow, open-mouthed kiss. Santana bucks her hips, rocking the hammock as her core rubs against Brittany's thigh, and she lets out a moan at the friction.
Brittany's free hand dances over the muscles across Santana's shoulder blades, down until it settles at the small of her back. Small sighs of pleasure escape Brittany's lips as Santana's hand works furiously, and Santana can feel her own body tightening. She bucks her hips again.
"Oh," Brittany murmurs against Santana's mouth.
Santana presses her thumb against Brittany's clit and strokes deep, and Brittany comes undone, grip tightening around Santana's hand as her body trembles. Without giving Brittany a chance to adjust, Santana slides herself down until her head is between Brittany's legs, and then she's sucking at Brittany's clit, tongue darting out to taste her. Brittany's hand tangles in Santana's hair as she lifts her hips, pushing for more, and Santana complies, moving faster to help Brittany ride out her orgasm. The feel of Brittany squirming under her, desperate and open, and the very thought that she's the one to get her there, to turn her on and make her moan, sends a jolt of pleasure to the pit of Santana's stomach.
When Brittany's limbs finally go slack, Santana crawls up the length of Brittany's body and settles down against Brittany's neck, fingertips drawing lazy shapes across Brittany's side.
Brittany kisses the crown of her head before awkwardly turning them over so that she's on top. Her right hand finds Santana's left, her thumb tracing the letters on Santana's wrist. She reaches the the L in 'proudly' before she leans down and kisses Santana on the lips. Brittany's leg slips between Santana's, and she gently rocks her body forward, her thigh rubbing against wet heat. Santana moans into the kiss and rocks back, and they fall into a slow rhythm after that.
The tension builds up in Santana's body, and soon, her hips are bucking wildly, her tongue dipping into Brittany's mouth, seeking heat. Brittany rocks harder, her palm cupping one of Santana's breasts as she rolls the pad of her thumb over the pebbled tip.
Santana peaks with a muffled cry, her hands gripping Brittany's ass as she grinds herself shamelessly against Brittany's thigh. After a few thrusts, Brittany groans, her body quivering as she's taken over the edge again.
They kiss lazily for a few more moments before Brittany lifts herself up and rolls over on the hammock. She smiles up at the sky, at the bright stars, and Santana leans closer presses a kiss to her cheek. Brittany turns her head and meets Santana's lips with her own. They share a quick, tender kiss before Brittany nuzzles into Santana's neck and throws an arm over her torso.
It's relaxing and easy and exactly what a vacation with her wife should be, and Santana finds herself drifting off.
Brittany suddenly stirs. "There are those clinic places," she says out of the blue, "where you can look through a catalog of sperm donors."
Santana brings a hand up to brush Brittany's hair. "That feels so… impersonal. Besides, what if the guy is a total douchebag and gives our kid douchebag genes?"
"I'm pretty sure there's no gene that determines that, Santana," Brittany replies, laughing. "And even if there were, we'd raise them right." She twists her body until she's facing Santana. "You don't want a stranger?"
"I just-" Santana sighs. "This is going to be our kid, Britt. I just think we need to look over all our options carefully, that's all."
"We should find someone who kinda looks like you," Brittany says. "Tanned skin, dark hair…"
Santana smiles faintly. "I don't care what he looks like, B."
Brittany perks up. "He?"
"Lack of gender-neutral pronoun," Santana explains, waving her hand dismissively in the air.
"We don't have to make a decision now." Brittany curls up against Santana's side and shuts her eyes. "We've got time."
"Yeah," Santana breathes out. "We sleeping out here tonight?"
"Can we?" Brittany asks around a yawn.
Santana kisses Brittany's cheek and pulls her closer. "Sure, just gonna get us a blanket first."
--
Vacation comes to an end too early for either of their liking, but Santana makes Brittany a promise to return every year, if not to Fiji, then to somewhere else far away from their everyday lives, away from routine.
Upon their return to Las Vegas, Quinn starts whisking Brittany and Santana away to gown fittings and florists and caterers for their upcoming wedding. The second one. On top of that, Jessica St. James's party is apparently unhappy with the results of their fight and has sent out an official challenge, and Quinn schedules a rematch to be fought in three months time. Santana returns to training, and with everything that's happening around her, she doesn't get much of a chance to continue the conversation she'd started with Brittany in Fiji.
It happens over dinner at Mike and Quinn's one night. Mike's talking about one of his classes, Quinn's staring adoringly at him, and Brittany is laughing along as he mentions people from the dance studio that she is familiar with. Santana, mostly, has zoned out.
"Matt," Santana says suddenly, startling the other three.
Brittany looks around, concerned. "Where?"
"No, I-" Santana laughs, the words tumbling from her lips. "Our donor should be Matt, if he's willing, which is a big if, but he's-I trust him with my life."
"Wait," Quinn interjects, "you two are planning a baby?"
"Okay," says Brittany, eyes wide. "Yes."
"Are you sure?" Santana asks, heart pounding inexplicably fast. "This is-we can take some time to think about this."
"Let's at least ask, first," Brittany replies. "He could say no."
"You're right, I-" Santana rises from her seat, nearly knocking over the table. "I gotta go."
Quinn reaches for Santana's retreating form. "Lopez, what the hell is going on?"
It isn't until Brittany takes Santana's hand and tugs her back toward her seat that she sits down and takes a breath.
"Sorry, got a little ahead of myself. I need to go ask Matt if he'll knock up my wife," Santana explains.
Quinn laughs. "No, seriously, what?"
"We're having a baby," Brittany says with a smile. "Or we will once we find a donor."
"Do you think we should even be asking Matt?" Santana asks, suddenly self-conscious. "It's a huge thing to just spring on someone."
Quinn reaches across the table and lightly touches Santana's hand. "If he doesn't want to, he can always say no. No harm in asking. You've been through way more than this together."
Fears momentarily assuaged, Santana nods. "Okay, I'll bring it up tomorrow."
The rest of the meal goes smoothly, though Santana has difficulty concentrating on any words being exchanged. Brittany squeezes her hand a few times under the table, but other than that says nothing.
After dinner, Santana helps Quinn with the dishes while Mike and Brittany run off to catch some terrible reality show. By "help," it mostly means that Santana sits atop the kitchen counter and picks her nails while Quinn rinses the dishes in the sink.
"Once we work out a donor and everything," Santana broaches, "I'm gonna have less time to train."
Quinn looks up. "Why? Brittany's the one getting pregnant."
"Yeah, I know," Santana replies, nodding, "but I want to be around. If she needs me, that comes first. I'm only telling you because I know it's your job to schedule fights for me, but if there's an emergency, I'm bailing. My family is my top priority."
"I understand." Quinn smiles. "You're gonna spoil that kid rotten, aren't you?"
Santana chuckles. "Wouldn't you?"
Quinn glances over her shoulder toward the couch in the living room. "Mike's more the spoiling kind, I think."
"Yeah? You two ever-?"
"We're not even married," Quinn points out, but her cheeks flush.
"For the best, probably," Santana deadpans. "Little control freaks that look like you running around? No me fucking gusta."
Quinn rolls her eyes and flicks some soapy dishwater at Santana.
--
Santana entire body is shaking, and she's pretty sure she's about to vomit.
"I'm not gay," she mumbles. "Matt, I'm not gay."
Matt pulls her close. "Okay," he says gently, undisputingly. He rocks her, and she lets him. "You're anything you want to be, Scout. Anything you want, and ain't nobody gonna stop you."
Matt holds her while she cries, an ugly kind of crying with snot and spit, and if it'd been anyone else, Santana wouldn't have let them see her like this. But it's Matt, and even though they've never actually talked about any of this, there's an implicit understanding the two of them share that's comforting.
When she finally manages to stop crying, Matt hands her a tissue and brushes the hair out of her face.
Santana hiccups. "I asked Brittany to be my girlfriend."
Matt waits patiently.
"She said yes," Santana continues, "but I-I'm not a dyke. I don't need this or want it. I don't. I don't, Matt."
"Scout," Matt cuts in. "Tell me about Brittany."
Santana blinks away drying tears. "You've met her a hundred times."
Matt nods. "I know. I want you to tell me about her."
"She's-I don't know." Santana takes a shaky breath. "She's amazing, Matt. She's so sweet and so pretty and when she dances, it's like you can't look away." Santana swallows hard when she realizes what she's said. "How do I know if it's just Brittany or if it's all girls?" she asks quietly.
"You'll figure it out," Matt tells her.
Santana sniffs. "How can you be so sure?"
"Look, I love your midget ass and everything, but I'm not having the birds and the bees talk with you." Matt laughs. "And hell, Scout, if it turns out that you do like a little pussy, you'd make damn sure you're the best carpet muncher out there."
Santana bites back a smile and punches Matt on the shoulder. "You're kind of an asshole."
"Just giving it to you straight." Matt laughs loudly and obnoxiously at his own joke.
Santana rolls her eyes. "I don't know why I put up with you."
"Hey," Matt says once he's sobered up, looking more serious than Santana's ever seen him. "This doesn't change anything, you got that? Absolutely nothing. You ever want to talk, you know where to find me. I mean, we got something in common, right? We both dig chicks."
Santana tries for a small smile. "Thanks, Matt."
--
The next morning, instead of waiting for Matt to pick her up, she drives to his place and knocks loudly on his door until he answers it half-asleep.
"Did you lose your watch or just your damn mind?" Matt grumbles as he steps aside and lets her in.
Santana heads to his kitchen to make him some coffee. He approaches from behind and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Scout."
Santana turns. "What?"
Matt looks curiously at her, a small, knowing grin playing on his lips. "Something good happen?"
"I-what?"
Matt smirks. "You're glowing. Lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. Ain't fooling no one, sis. You either won the lottery or Brittany googled some kinky shit. I don't wanna know about any of that, but if you've landed some wealth…" He waggles his eyebrows at her.
Santana cannot even process Matt's words, so she mostly ignores them. "Brittany," she begins, and then has to stop and pull back her grin. She laughs, almost like she still doesn't believe it herself. She steps closer, needing to see the look in Matt's eyes when she breaks the news. "Matt," she says, clutching at his forearm, "Britt and I-we're gonna start a family."
It doesn't sink in immediately. "You're gonna start a family," he echoes tonelessly. Then, realization strikes his features. "You and Britt-holy shit. I'm going to be a fucking badass uncle."
Santana laughs, her cheeks flushing. "You watch your mouth around the kid though."
Matt pulls Santana into a crushing embrace. "Look at my little baby sis," he gushes, "all grown up."
Santana squirms. "Aw, c'mon, don't sap out on me now, Matt. I get enough of that shit from Fabray."
Matt loosens his grip slightly and looks at her. "You gonna name the kid Matt Jr., right? If it's a little dude."
Santana snorts. "And if it's a girl?"
"Mattie? Matilda?" Matt smirks. "Hey, I ain't picky."
She laughs. "Let me guess, our kid should take your last name, too?"
"Only 'cause Rutherford is boss."
There's a moment when Santana considers backing out, because it doesn't feel like something she should be asking anyone unless they offer first. It's not something Matt has signed up for just because one of his oldest and best friends is gay, and biology, often, is unfair.
But for Santana, who has never been close to her own parents and barely knows where they even are these days, Matt is her family. Screw anyone who believes otherwise, that blood is somehow stronger than the experiences that shape a relationship. If she can't ask Matt, she can't ask anyone.
Santana touches Matt's arm. "I actually have something important I want to ask you."
"All ears."
"Well," Santana starts, swallowing hard, "you know how Brittany and I need a little help getting pregnant..."
Matt laughs knowingly. "You want me to knock up your wife."
Santana flushes. "Without actually, you know, going anywhere near her. Obviously. You can say no. I just thought-I mean, we could find someone else if this is too weird."
"Scout," Matt interrupts. "It'd be an honor."
"Yeah?" Santana asks, feeling her heart soar. "You can take some time to think about this. We're in no hurry."
"Yeah, I'll do it," Matt reassures, grinning wide. "I'll be your baby daddy."
"Don't fucking say it like that," Santana admonishes, laughing.
Matt lightly nudges Santana's shoulder. "You just let me know what I gotta do."
Santana nods. "We still have to look into it, but as soon as I know, you'll know."
Matt pulls her into another crushing hug. "I'm really proud of you, you know that? You've come a long way from your bruised knuckles and swinging fists."
Santana smiles against Matt's shoulder. "I still do plenty of ass-kicking," she mumbles.
"Yeah, well, your punches are a lot better aimed now," Matt counters, releasing her. "Man, little Santana Lopez, with a kid. Tiny dude's gonna have you whipped, just the way Blondie does."
Santana doesn't even bother disputing that assessment.
--
The calendar hanging in their hallway has dates marked on them. Important ones. It's July, and Santana's rematch is scheduled for October. The wedding ceremony, which Quinn had somehow managed to plan in a month and a half, is in two weeks. And tomorrow, they have an appointment at a fertility clinic.
"So I just..." Matt makes a jerking motion with his hand. "At the clinic?"
"Yeah, into a cup," Brittany replies. "They can give you aids, if you need them."
Matt's eyes widen. "What? AIDS?"
Santana clears her throat, flushing. "She means porn. Masturbatory aids. You can bring your own, if you'd like."
Matt stares blankly at the two and laughs. "You're so damn lucky I love both of you."
Leaning forward, Santana touches Matt's arm. "You don't have to do this. Seriously, if there's any hesitation..."
Matt's expression sobers. "No, I want to. Honest."
"There'll be some paperwork," Santana rambles on, her nerves getting the best of her. "It's just some basic parental rights stuff. Since we're not married in the eye of the state-" She glances at Brittany and knows that she shares the same twinge of discomfort at that thought. "-I'll have to go through the adoption process once the baby's born to tie up the legal ends, but that's after, and-"
"Scout," Matt interrupts. "We got this. One step at a time, all right? We'll worry about all that when it comes up."
"Okay," Santana agrees. "That's-yeah, okay."
Brittany leans closer, her shoulder bumping against Santana's. "Everything's going to be fine, babe. Relax."
Santana takes a deep breath. Brittany's right. There's nothing to worry about, at least not until the insemination takes, and whatever awkwardness these conversations cause will be worth it in the long run.
Santana leans in and hugs Matt, eyes squeezing shut. "Thank you," she whispers into his ear, even though she doesn't think there are enough words in the world to show her gratitude.
--
Brittany sprawls out across the grass, her arms stretched high above her head. Her eyes are closed as she faces the sun, and a small smile plays across her lips. Santana sits cross-legged next to her, picking absently at the blades of grass in front of her.
"How come I never see your parents?" Brittany asks suddenly, using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she squints at Santana.
Santana looks up. "You've met my mom."
"Once," Brittany shrugs, "and I don't think you wanted me to."
"Yeah," Santana concedes, "I didn't know she'd be home."
"She seemed nice," Brittany presses.
Santana's shoulders rise and fall in a dismissive shrug. She doesn't want to be having this conversation. Brittany watches her for a moment before shutting her eyes again. Her arm falls back down to the grass, her hand landing dangerously close to Santana's knee. Silence surrounds them, but it's not stifling or uncomfortable. Santana's hand slips quietly into Brittany's, and she takes a deep breath.
"They're just not around a lot," she explains. "Never been, since I was young." She shrugs. "Matt's mom kinda took me in."
It's all she wants to offer, and it's all Brittany takes.
"Family is important to me," Brittany tells her.
Instinctively, Santana's grip tightens around Brittany's hand. "I noticed."
Brittany rolls onto her side and smiles at Santana. "You can share my family with me, if you want."
Santana looks down. "Doesn't work like that, Britt. You don't get to choose your family."
"Why not?" Brittany asks, cocking her head to the side.
Santana shrugs. "Family is something you're born into."
Brittany frowns. "What about parents who adopt? Are they not a family?"
"That's different," Santana argues.
"Why?" Brittany asks, gaining momentum as she pushes herself onto her elbow. "What about Charity and Lord Tubbington? Or what if we get married and want to have a baby?"
Santana's heart skips. "Brittany-"
"Family is a bunch of people you love who love you, no matter what," Brittany insists. "Family is a place you feel like you belong. If that's with Matt and his mom, then they're your family, too."
Brittany pushes herself up and leans closer, grinning as she presses a kiss to the corner of Santana's mouth.
"You're my family, Santana."
Santana offers a small smile. "When did you get so smart?"
--
The second wedding is a loud affair with far too many people. Sometime around their trip to Fiji, rumors had started circulating about Santana's love life, and shortly after she'd gone back to training, she'd tweeted to officially confirm that yes, she'd gotten married to her longtime girlfriend and that they would be holding another ceremony soon. Of course, that meant having to invite everyone from the gym and a bunch of MMA higher-ups, and that was only Santana's side. The numbers had only gotten bigger from there.
But fuck it, Santana looks hot and loves the attention. She'd already gotten her quiet ceremony back in the gazebo, so this is more of a formality than anything else, though seeing Brittany's proud parents and bratty little sister would've been enough to justify the occasion.
Because in the end, the celebration is not only about their union but also the union of their families, of their friends. It's bringing together people who would otherwise be strangers. It's about a sense of belonging, and Brittany had known that all along.
When the vows are exchanged, everyone cries. Even though they'd gotten a chance to write them this time, Santana mostly ends up tearfully telling Brittany how amazing she is and how much she loves her and will never stop loving her. She doesn't even care that everyone she knows is watching and that she'll probably lose some cred back at the gym.
When it's Brittany's turn, she smiles sweetly and simply says, "I forgot what I was going to say because you look really, really hot right now and I just want to kiss you." The room erupts into laughter, but Brittany just smiles wider. "Santana, I knew from the first moment I met you that you weren't like the others."
It makes Santana cry harder.
Instead of exchanging rings, Brittany loops her right pinky around Santana's left, the tattoos on their wrists facing each other. The kiss they share is chaste, but the applause that follows is deafening.
Later, when Frank Sinatra is crooning in the dance hall, and Brittany is pressed against Santana as they sway gently to the music, Santana rests her temple against Brittany's cheek and smiles.
The past few months of her life have been so insane, she barely believes it herself. Everything's felt so fast-tracked and backwards, but then again, her relationship with Brittany is nothing if not unconventional.
"In other words," Santana sings along, just loudly enough for Brittany to hear, "please be true."
"In other words," Brittany joins in, her hands firm against the small of Santana's back, "in other words, I love..."
"You."
End part II.
Author: zerodetorres
Characters: Brittany/Santana, Mike/Quinn, Matt, Puck
Rating: NC-17
Length: 5,145/15,315
Timeline: AU
Summary: Santana Lopez fights for her family.
"Wow, this place is gorgeous," Brittany marvels, staring up at the small bure that would be their home for the next week.
"Q wasn't kidding when she said we'd be ten steps from the ocean."
Santana dumps her suitcase near the front entrance and sets out to explore the cabin. Brittany follows close behind. There's a small kitchenette stocked with food that'll last them their stay, a den-like area with wicker furniture that appears slightly uncomfortable but will probably be appreciated in the heat. Finally, the bedroom houses a king-sized bed with a canopy overhead, and Santana waggles her eyebrows suggestively at Brittany on their way to check out the bathroom.
Brittany rolls her eyes. "You're shameless."
"I'm just saying," Santana shrugs. "Those sheets look nice. I think we might need a new bedspread at home soon. That's all."
Brittany giggles. "Right."
Santana laughs. "Yeah, I'm totally hitting on you. Is it working?"
Brittany responds by pressing her lips against Santana's for a soft kiss. She laces their fingers together, and after a quick look at the bathroom, they head outside. A hammock stretches between two banana trees, and nearby, gorgeous red hisbiscus bloom. The sound of gentle waves crashing into the shore serves as a gentle backdrop. The Fijian sun burns down sharply, and it's hot and humid, but not uncomfortably so.
Brittany kicks off her shoes and runs halfway down the beach, motioning for Santana to follow. Santana leans down and plucks an orchid before racing Brittany to the edge of the water.
"Hey."
Brittany turns around and smiles affectionately. "Hi."
Santana twirls the flower in her hand for a moment before stepping forward and tucking the stem behind Brittany's ear.
"You aren't supposed to pick any!" Brittany scolds, but she's still smiling as she tries to take a peek at the ornament.
"Too bad," Santana replies, pulling Brittany closer. "It looks pretty on you."
"You would look prettier on me," Brittany suggests, eyelashes batting.
Santana laughs. "Who's hitting on who now?"
Brittany turns toward the ocean, squinting into the horizon. "Are we going to be one of those lovey-dovey married couples who can't keep their hands off each other?"
"Babe," Santana says, thoroughly amused, "that was us way before we decided to get hitched."
"The world is so big," Brittany muses. "How did we find each other?"
"Well," Santana laughs, almost in disbelief of the journey they've taken to get here. "You found me and dragged me along until I realized you weren't really pulling and I was still moving."
The corners of Brittany's lips twitch, and she watches the waves for a moment, then, "Do you believe in soul mates?"
"No," Santana replies, a little more firmly than she means to.
"No?"
Santana shrugs. "Believing in soul mates makes people lazy. If it's predestined, why even bother trying? You gotta-I don't know, fight for everything you want."
"Being soul mates is not a guarantee," Brittany explains. "It's just knowing that there's one person who understands you better than anyone else, and who can learn to love you no matter what. What you do with that is up to you."
Santana takes Brittany's hand in hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. "You're my person."
Brittany leans in and presses a kiss to Santana's cheek. "I know." And even though it's been years and years, and Santana doesn't really need the reassurance, Brittany nudges Santana's wrist and smiles. "And you are mine."
--
"You can come in, you know." Brittany squints against the blinding sun. "It's a dance studio, not a leper colony."
Santana pushes herself off the railing that she'd been leaning against. "Yeah, well..." She motions at her attire and the duffel bag at her feet. "Fresh from the gym."
Brittany blinks. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Nothing, I just-" Santana looks down and takes a deep breath. "Brittany. Can we talk?"
"I'm not going to be your secret friend, Santana," Brittany says, her words kind but firm.
Santana shuts her eyes to stave off tears. "I know. That's not why I'm-" She takes a breath. "I really like kissing you, Britt," she admits quietly.
Brittany steps closer. "Me too."
"You're a girl, and it's confusing, but it just feels right." Santana kicks nervously at her duffel bag. "Fuck it. Be my girlfriend."
Brittany's features shift slowly from confusion to delight. "Really?"
"Yeah, really." Santana smiles a little, feeling her own heartbeat pounding hard. "You want to?"
"Yeah, totally."
"Okay." Santana laughs, reaching out to grab Brittany's hand and pull her closer. "Okay, I-okay."
Brittany leans in, and her lips are suddenly against Santana's, kissing her. Santana reacts, hands curving over Brittany's hips as she feels hot pleasure undulate through her body at the contact. Brittany pulls away first and smiles.
"Can you promise me one thing?" Brittany blinks, eyes searching. "Will you talk to me when something's bothering you? And always be honest with me?"
Santana grins. "Yeah, Britt, I can totally do that. I promise."
--
On the fourth night of their vacation, after a day spent lounging on the beach and making out under the shade of palm trees like a pair of hormonal teenagers, Santana finds herself curled up in the hammock next to Brittany. The night air is quiet, warm, and the stars are brighter than any she remembers seeing back home.
Santana's palm glides up Brittany's bare hip, fingertips stretching to cover as much skin as she can reach. Brittany nuzzles her face against Santana's neck and laughs softly; Santana doesn't think she'll ever tire of the sound. Santana shifts, turning until her hand is pressed against Brittany's abdomen, and Brittany smiles into dark skin.
Santana doesn't even realize what she's saying until the words are out of her mouth. "One day, a little blond girl who looks just like you is going to walk this earth, and I'm going to love her as much as I love you."
Brittany lifts her head, eyes bright and optimistic. "When?"
"This is-" Santana laughs nervously, fearing she's revealed too much. "This is a big talk, Britt."
"Yeah, but..." Brittany's shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. "We're going to have to talk about it someday, right?"
"You're right. Okay." She turns to face Brittany. "So how do we want to do this?"
"One of us gets pregnant," Brittany explains, hinting obviousness, "and nine months later..."
Santana laughs. "I know. I mean, how? And... who?"
"I'll carry," Brittany offers immediately.
Santana bites her lip. "You'd have to give up dancing."
"Just for a little while." Brittany shifts, gently rocking the hammock. "I'd probably only need a few weeks off near the end when I get too big to run around with the kids."
Santana anchors herself against the edge of the hammock and rolls over, straddling Brittany's thigh. "Are you sure?"
"It's a baby, Santana," Brittany says softly, blinking from behind her eyelashes. "Yeah, I'm sure."
Leaning down to dot kisses along Brittany's jaw, Santana smiles. "You are amazing."
"We could always adopt a little Asian girl instead," Brittany muses after a moment.
But Santana knows that neither of them are naïve enough to believe that they'd be successful at international adoption, where regulations are tougher and same-sex parents don't stand a chance. Brittany smiles sadly, as though the realization suddenly dawns on her.
"Maybe," Santana says slyly, squeezing her thighs together and loving the way Brittany's body momentarily tightens under hers. "Maybe if I try hard enough, I'll get you pregnant."
Brittany laughs. "Santana."
But Santana is already playing with Brittany's bikini top. "No harm in trying."
Brittany's back arches to Santana's touch. "No harm in trying," she agrees.
Santana slips out of her own bikini top and tugs her shorts down, kicking them away. Brittany quickly does the same. It's difficult to gain any leverage on the hammock, but Santana holds herself up and takes a moment to admire Brittany's body under the glow of moonlight. She leans closer, pressing kisses down the column of Brittany's neck as her hand travels south, over the plane of Brittany's abdomen, down to the apex of Brittany's thighs. Her fingertips rest against Brittany's clit for a moment before lightly pinching, and Brittany gasps, hands gripping Santana's shoulders as she squirms against the friction.
Santana moves lower, finds moisture, and dips the tips of two fingers inside. Brittany bucks her hips, moans when Santana sinks deeper and starts thrusting, her thumb drawing circles around Brittany's clit.
"Faster," Brittany manages to gasp, eyelids fluttering as she throws her head back.
Santana complies, adding a third finger and picking up the pace. She slides her body lower, her lips closing around a nipple. Her other hand finds Brittany's, and their fingers interlock, palms pressed together. Santana brings their hands up to rest beside Brittany's head, and the tattoos inked on their wrists touch.
Brittany smiles. "Santana?"
"Mhm?" Santana murmurs, twirling her tongue. Her fingers work quickly between Brittany's thighs, twisting and curling as they thrust in and out.
Brittany's breathing quickens until she's panting, hips jerking to meet Santana's hand. "Kiss me."
Pushing herself higher, Santana leaves a trail of kisses over the top of Brittany's breast, across her collarbone, up the length of her neck, and finally, their lips meet in a slow, open-mouthed kiss. Santana bucks her hips, rocking the hammock as her core rubs against Brittany's thigh, and she lets out a moan at the friction.
Brittany's free hand dances over the muscles across Santana's shoulder blades, down until it settles at the small of her back. Small sighs of pleasure escape Brittany's lips as Santana's hand works furiously, and Santana can feel her own body tightening. She bucks her hips again.
"Oh," Brittany murmurs against Santana's mouth.
Santana presses her thumb against Brittany's clit and strokes deep, and Brittany comes undone, grip tightening around Santana's hand as her body trembles. Without giving Brittany a chance to adjust, Santana slides herself down until her head is between Brittany's legs, and then she's sucking at Brittany's clit, tongue darting out to taste her. Brittany's hand tangles in Santana's hair as she lifts her hips, pushing for more, and Santana complies, moving faster to help Brittany ride out her orgasm. The feel of Brittany squirming under her, desperate and open, and the very thought that she's the one to get her there, to turn her on and make her moan, sends a jolt of pleasure to the pit of Santana's stomach.
When Brittany's limbs finally go slack, Santana crawls up the length of Brittany's body and settles down against Brittany's neck, fingertips drawing lazy shapes across Brittany's side.
Brittany kisses the crown of her head before awkwardly turning them over so that she's on top. Her right hand finds Santana's left, her thumb tracing the letters on Santana's wrist. She reaches the the L in 'proudly' before she leans down and kisses Santana on the lips. Brittany's leg slips between Santana's, and she gently rocks her body forward, her thigh rubbing against wet heat. Santana moans into the kiss and rocks back, and they fall into a slow rhythm after that.
The tension builds up in Santana's body, and soon, her hips are bucking wildly, her tongue dipping into Brittany's mouth, seeking heat. Brittany rocks harder, her palm cupping one of Santana's breasts as she rolls the pad of her thumb over the pebbled tip.
Santana peaks with a muffled cry, her hands gripping Brittany's ass as she grinds herself shamelessly against Brittany's thigh. After a few thrusts, Brittany groans, her body quivering as she's taken over the edge again.
They kiss lazily for a few more moments before Brittany lifts herself up and rolls over on the hammock. She smiles up at the sky, at the bright stars, and Santana leans closer presses a kiss to her cheek. Brittany turns her head and meets Santana's lips with her own. They share a quick, tender kiss before Brittany nuzzles into Santana's neck and throws an arm over her torso.
It's relaxing and easy and exactly what a vacation with her wife should be, and Santana finds herself drifting off.
Brittany suddenly stirs. "There are those clinic places," she says out of the blue, "where you can look through a catalog of sperm donors."
Santana brings a hand up to brush Brittany's hair. "That feels so… impersonal. Besides, what if the guy is a total douchebag and gives our kid douchebag genes?"
"I'm pretty sure there's no gene that determines that, Santana," Brittany replies, laughing. "And even if there were, we'd raise them right." She twists her body until she's facing Santana. "You don't want a stranger?"
"I just-" Santana sighs. "This is going to be our kid, Britt. I just think we need to look over all our options carefully, that's all."
"We should find someone who kinda looks like you," Brittany says. "Tanned skin, dark hair…"
Santana smiles faintly. "I don't care what he looks like, B."
Brittany perks up. "He?"
"Lack of gender-neutral pronoun," Santana explains, waving her hand dismissively in the air.
"We don't have to make a decision now." Brittany curls up against Santana's side and shuts her eyes. "We've got time."
"Yeah," Santana breathes out. "We sleeping out here tonight?"
"Can we?" Brittany asks around a yawn.
Santana kisses Brittany's cheek and pulls her closer. "Sure, just gonna get us a blanket first."
--
Vacation comes to an end too early for either of their liking, but Santana makes Brittany a promise to return every year, if not to Fiji, then to somewhere else far away from their everyday lives, away from routine.
Upon their return to Las Vegas, Quinn starts whisking Brittany and Santana away to gown fittings and florists and caterers for their upcoming wedding. The second one. On top of that, Jessica St. James's party is apparently unhappy with the results of their fight and has sent out an official challenge, and Quinn schedules a rematch to be fought in three months time. Santana returns to training, and with everything that's happening around her, she doesn't get much of a chance to continue the conversation she'd started with Brittany in Fiji.
It happens over dinner at Mike and Quinn's one night. Mike's talking about one of his classes, Quinn's staring adoringly at him, and Brittany is laughing along as he mentions people from the dance studio that she is familiar with. Santana, mostly, has zoned out.
"Matt," Santana says suddenly, startling the other three.
Brittany looks around, concerned. "Where?"
"No, I-" Santana laughs, the words tumbling from her lips. "Our donor should be Matt, if he's willing, which is a big if, but he's-I trust him with my life."
"Wait," Quinn interjects, "you two are planning a baby?"
"Okay," says Brittany, eyes wide. "Yes."
"Are you sure?" Santana asks, heart pounding inexplicably fast. "This is-we can take some time to think about this."
"Let's at least ask, first," Brittany replies. "He could say no."
"You're right, I-" Santana rises from her seat, nearly knocking over the table. "I gotta go."
Quinn reaches for Santana's retreating form. "Lopez, what the hell is going on?"
It isn't until Brittany takes Santana's hand and tugs her back toward her seat that she sits down and takes a breath.
"Sorry, got a little ahead of myself. I need to go ask Matt if he'll knock up my wife," Santana explains.
Quinn laughs. "No, seriously, what?"
"We're having a baby," Brittany says with a smile. "Or we will once we find a donor."
"Do you think we should even be asking Matt?" Santana asks, suddenly self-conscious. "It's a huge thing to just spring on someone."
Quinn reaches across the table and lightly touches Santana's hand. "If he doesn't want to, he can always say no. No harm in asking. You've been through way more than this together."
Fears momentarily assuaged, Santana nods. "Okay, I'll bring it up tomorrow."
The rest of the meal goes smoothly, though Santana has difficulty concentrating on any words being exchanged. Brittany squeezes her hand a few times under the table, but other than that says nothing.
After dinner, Santana helps Quinn with the dishes while Mike and Brittany run off to catch some terrible reality show. By "help," it mostly means that Santana sits atop the kitchen counter and picks her nails while Quinn rinses the dishes in the sink.
"Once we work out a donor and everything," Santana broaches, "I'm gonna have less time to train."
Quinn looks up. "Why? Brittany's the one getting pregnant."
"Yeah, I know," Santana replies, nodding, "but I want to be around. If she needs me, that comes first. I'm only telling you because I know it's your job to schedule fights for me, but if there's an emergency, I'm bailing. My family is my top priority."
"I understand." Quinn smiles. "You're gonna spoil that kid rotten, aren't you?"
Santana chuckles. "Wouldn't you?"
Quinn glances over her shoulder toward the couch in the living room. "Mike's more the spoiling kind, I think."
"Yeah? You two ever-?"
"We're not even married," Quinn points out, but her cheeks flush.
"For the best, probably," Santana deadpans. "Little control freaks that look like you running around? No me fucking gusta."
Quinn rolls her eyes and flicks some soapy dishwater at Santana.
--
Santana entire body is shaking, and she's pretty sure she's about to vomit.
"I'm not gay," she mumbles. "Matt, I'm not gay."
Matt pulls her close. "Okay," he says gently, undisputingly. He rocks her, and she lets him. "You're anything you want to be, Scout. Anything you want, and ain't nobody gonna stop you."
Matt holds her while she cries, an ugly kind of crying with snot and spit, and if it'd been anyone else, Santana wouldn't have let them see her like this. But it's Matt, and even though they've never actually talked about any of this, there's an implicit understanding the two of them share that's comforting.
When she finally manages to stop crying, Matt hands her a tissue and brushes the hair out of her face.
Santana hiccups. "I asked Brittany to be my girlfriend."
Matt waits patiently.
"She said yes," Santana continues, "but I-I'm not a dyke. I don't need this or want it. I don't. I don't, Matt."
"Scout," Matt cuts in. "Tell me about Brittany."
Santana blinks away drying tears. "You've met her a hundred times."
Matt nods. "I know. I want you to tell me about her."
"She's-I don't know." Santana takes a shaky breath. "She's amazing, Matt. She's so sweet and so pretty and when she dances, it's like you can't look away." Santana swallows hard when she realizes what she's said. "How do I know if it's just Brittany or if it's all girls?" she asks quietly.
"You'll figure it out," Matt tells her.
Santana sniffs. "How can you be so sure?"
"Look, I love your midget ass and everything, but I'm not having the birds and the bees talk with you." Matt laughs. "And hell, Scout, if it turns out that you do like a little pussy, you'd make damn sure you're the best carpet muncher out there."
Santana bites back a smile and punches Matt on the shoulder. "You're kind of an asshole."
"Just giving it to you straight." Matt laughs loudly and obnoxiously at his own joke.
Santana rolls her eyes. "I don't know why I put up with you."
"Hey," Matt says once he's sobered up, looking more serious than Santana's ever seen him. "This doesn't change anything, you got that? Absolutely nothing. You ever want to talk, you know where to find me. I mean, we got something in common, right? We both dig chicks."
Santana tries for a small smile. "Thanks, Matt."
--
The next morning, instead of waiting for Matt to pick her up, she drives to his place and knocks loudly on his door until he answers it half-asleep.
"Did you lose your watch or just your damn mind?" Matt grumbles as he steps aside and lets her in.
Santana heads to his kitchen to make him some coffee. He approaches from behind and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Scout."
Santana turns. "What?"
Matt looks curiously at her, a small, knowing grin playing on his lips. "Something good happen?"
"I-what?"
Matt smirks. "You're glowing. Lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. Ain't fooling no one, sis. You either won the lottery or Brittany googled some kinky shit. I don't wanna know about any of that, but if you've landed some wealth…" He waggles his eyebrows at her.
Santana cannot even process Matt's words, so she mostly ignores them. "Brittany," she begins, and then has to stop and pull back her grin. She laughs, almost like she still doesn't believe it herself. She steps closer, needing to see the look in Matt's eyes when she breaks the news. "Matt," she says, clutching at his forearm, "Britt and I-we're gonna start a family."
It doesn't sink in immediately. "You're gonna start a family," he echoes tonelessly. Then, realization strikes his features. "You and Britt-holy shit. I'm going to be a fucking badass uncle."
Santana laughs, her cheeks flushing. "You watch your mouth around the kid though."
Matt pulls Santana into a crushing embrace. "Look at my little baby sis," he gushes, "all grown up."
Santana squirms. "Aw, c'mon, don't sap out on me now, Matt. I get enough of that shit from Fabray."
Matt loosens his grip slightly and looks at her. "You gonna name the kid Matt Jr., right? If it's a little dude."
Santana snorts. "And if it's a girl?"
"Mattie? Matilda?" Matt smirks. "Hey, I ain't picky."
She laughs. "Let me guess, our kid should take your last name, too?"
"Only 'cause Rutherford is boss."
There's a moment when Santana considers backing out, because it doesn't feel like something she should be asking anyone unless they offer first. It's not something Matt has signed up for just because one of his oldest and best friends is gay, and biology, often, is unfair.
But for Santana, who has never been close to her own parents and barely knows where they even are these days, Matt is her family. Screw anyone who believes otherwise, that blood is somehow stronger than the experiences that shape a relationship. If she can't ask Matt, she can't ask anyone.
Santana touches Matt's arm. "I actually have something important I want to ask you."
"All ears."
"Well," Santana starts, swallowing hard, "you know how Brittany and I need a little help getting pregnant..."
Matt laughs knowingly. "You want me to knock up your wife."
Santana flushes. "Without actually, you know, going anywhere near her. Obviously. You can say no. I just thought-I mean, we could find someone else if this is too weird."
"Scout," Matt interrupts. "It'd be an honor."
"Yeah?" Santana asks, feeling her heart soar. "You can take some time to think about this. We're in no hurry."
"Yeah, I'll do it," Matt reassures, grinning wide. "I'll be your baby daddy."
"Don't fucking say it like that," Santana admonishes, laughing.
Matt lightly nudges Santana's shoulder. "You just let me know what I gotta do."
Santana nods. "We still have to look into it, but as soon as I know, you'll know."
Matt pulls her into another crushing hug. "I'm really proud of you, you know that? You've come a long way from your bruised knuckles and swinging fists."
Santana smiles against Matt's shoulder. "I still do plenty of ass-kicking," she mumbles.
"Yeah, well, your punches are a lot better aimed now," Matt counters, releasing her. "Man, little Santana Lopez, with a kid. Tiny dude's gonna have you whipped, just the way Blondie does."
Santana doesn't even bother disputing that assessment.
--
The calendar hanging in their hallway has dates marked on them. Important ones. It's July, and Santana's rematch is scheduled for October. The wedding ceremony, which Quinn had somehow managed to plan in a month and a half, is in two weeks. And tomorrow, they have an appointment at a fertility clinic.
"So I just..." Matt makes a jerking motion with his hand. "At the clinic?"
"Yeah, into a cup," Brittany replies. "They can give you aids, if you need them."
Matt's eyes widen. "What? AIDS?"
Santana clears her throat, flushing. "She means porn. Masturbatory aids. You can bring your own, if you'd like."
Matt stares blankly at the two and laughs. "You're so damn lucky I love both of you."
Leaning forward, Santana touches Matt's arm. "You don't have to do this. Seriously, if there's any hesitation..."
Matt's expression sobers. "No, I want to. Honest."
"There'll be some paperwork," Santana rambles on, her nerves getting the best of her. "It's just some basic parental rights stuff. Since we're not married in the eye of the state-" She glances at Brittany and knows that she shares the same twinge of discomfort at that thought. "-I'll have to go through the adoption process once the baby's born to tie up the legal ends, but that's after, and-"
"Scout," Matt interrupts. "We got this. One step at a time, all right? We'll worry about all that when it comes up."
"Okay," Santana agrees. "That's-yeah, okay."
Brittany leans closer, her shoulder bumping against Santana's. "Everything's going to be fine, babe. Relax."
Santana takes a deep breath. Brittany's right. There's nothing to worry about, at least not until the insemination takes, and whatever awkwardness these conversations cause will be worth it in the long run.
Santana leans in and hugs Matt, eyes squeezing shut. "Thank you," she whispers into his ear, even though she doesn't think there are enough words in the world to show her gratitude.
--
Brittany sprawls out across the grass, her arms stretched high above her head. Her eyes are closed as she faces the sun, and a small smile plays across her lips. Santana sits cross-legged next to her, picking absently at the blades of grass in front of her.
"How come I never see your parents?" Brittany asks suddenly, using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she squints at Santana.
Santana looks up. "You've met my mom."
"Once," Brittany shrugs, "and I don't think you wanted me to."
"Yeah," Santana concedes, "I didn't know she'd be home."
"She seemed nice," Brittany presses.
Santana's shoulders rise and fall in a dismissive shrug. She doesn't want to be having this conversation. Brittany watches her for a moment before shutting her eyes again. Her arm falls back down to the grass, her hand landing dangerously close to Santana's knee. Silence surrounds them, but it's not stifling or uncomfortable. Santana's hand slips quietly into Brittany's, and she takes a deep breath.
"They're just not around a lot," she explains. "Never been, since I was young." She shrugs. "Matt's mom kinda took me in."
It's all she wants to offer, and it's all Brittany takes.
"Family is important to me," Brittany tells her.
Instinctively, Santana's grip tightens around Brittany's hand. "I noticed."
Brittany rolls onto her side and smiles at Santana. "You can share my family with me, if you want."
Santana looks down. "Doesn't work like that, Britt. You don't get to choose your family."
"Why not?" Brittany asks, cocking her head to the side.
Santana shrugs. "Family is something you're born into."
Brittany frowns. "What about parents who adopt? Are they not a family?"
"That's different," Santana argues.
"Why?" Brittany asks, gaining momentum as she pushes herself onto her elbow. "What about Charity and Lord Tubbington? Or what if we get married and want to have a baby?"
Santana's heart skips. "Brittany-"
"Family is a bunch of people you love who love you, no matter what," Brittany insists. "Family is a place you feel like you belong. If that's with Matt and his mom, then they're your family, too."
Brittany pushes herself up and leans closer, grinning as she presses a kiss to the corner of Santana's mouth.
"You're my family, Santana."
Santana offers a small smile. "When did you get so smart?"
--
The second wedding is a loud affair with far too many people. Sometime around their trip to Fiji, rumors had started circulating about Santana's love life, and shortly after she'd gone back to training, she'd tweeted to officially confirm that yes, she'd gotten married to her longtime girlfriend and that they would be holding another ceremony soon. Of course, that meant having to invite everyone from the gym and a bunch of MMA higher-ups, and that was only Santana's side. The numbers had only gotten bigger from there.
But fuck it, Santana looks hot and loves the attention. She'd already gotten her quiet ceremony back in the gazebo, so this is more of a formality than anything else, though seeing Brittany's proud parents and bratty little sister would've been enough to justify the occasion.
Because in the end, the celebration is not only about their union but also the union of their families, of their friends. It's bringing together people who would otherwise be strangers. It's about a sense of belonging, and Brittany had known that all along.
When the vows are exchanged, everyone cries. Even though they'd gotten a chance to write them this time, Santana mostly ends up tearfully telling Brittany how amazing she is and how much she loves her and will never stop loving her. She doesn't even care that everyone she knows is watching and that she'll probably lose some cred back at the gym.
When it's Brittany's turn, she smiles sweetly and simply says, "I forgot what I was going to say because you look really, really hot right now and I just want to kiss you." The room erupts into laughter, but Brittany just smiles wider. "Santana, I knew from the first moment I met you that you weren't like the others."
It makes Santana cry harder.
Instead of exchanging rings, Brittany loops her right pinky around Santana's left, the tattoos on their wrists facing each other. The kiss they share is chaste, but the applause that follows is deafening.
Later, when Frank Sinatra is crooning in the dance hall, and Brittany is pressed against Santana as they sway gently to the music, Santana rests her temple against Brittany's cheek and smiles.
The past few months of her life have been so insane, she barely believes it herself. Everything's felt so fast-tracked and backwards, but then again, her relationship with Brittany is nothing if not unconventional.
"In other words," Santana sings along, just loudly enough for Brittany to hear, "please be true."
"In other words," Brittany joins in, her hands firm against the small of Santana's back, "in other words, I love..."
"You."
End part II.