But what about if i died underneath my desk at work because oh my GOD.
They’ve been waiting for this moment, it took alot longer than either of them expected. Brittany, ever the optimist, kept reminding Santana that it would happen when it was supposed to, there is nothing wrong, they just have to wait a little while longer. Santana would nod and smile, kissing Brittany full on the lips and rubbing her still flat belly. But now, its real, it worked and she may or may not have dropped the food on the ground in her haste to scramble over to Brittany. Santana kisses Brittany hard on the mouth with tears in her eyes before falling to her knees and kissing her belly. Her pregnant belly. Their baby is in there. They’re going to be mothers.
Brittany would laugh a little bit and stroke Santana’s hair and gently urge her to stand up. Santana would stand up, her hands still held over Brittany’s belly and they would just look at each other, with Brittany brushing Santana’s tears away.
"We’re going to have a baby."
"We’re going to have a baby."
"WE’RE GOING TO HAVE A BABY!!"
Santana would yell and pick Brittany up in a hug and slowly spin her around while Brittany laughed louder. Suddenly they would stop at the sight of their neighbor, Mrs. Haley, standing in the doorway of their apartment since Santana left the door open in her haste to get to Brittany.
"Are you girls okay?"
"She’s going to have a baby, Mrs. Haley."
“We’re going to have a baby.”
Santana would look over at Brittany’s gentle correction and whisper, “We’re going to have a baby.”
Mrs. Haley, who was like a mother-figure to both of them since they had moved into the building a few years ago and who knew about their struggles, would cover her mouth and smile, her own eyes bright with happiness. “Oh, congratulations! That’s wonderful news.”
Holding Santana’s hand, Brittany would smile and agree, both of them watching as Mrs. Haley glances down at the floor.
"Was that your dinner?"
"Oh, crap. Britt, I’m sorry. I just got so excited and…"
"It’s okay. We can get order pizza."
"Pizza? Our baby is not having pizza. We need to get you something healthy or…"
Gently closing their door, Mrs. Haley leaves them alone to celebrate their news, happy at the prospect of telling her husband all about it.
"Britt, we have to eat better, like actual vegetables. I don’t want our baby addicted to junk food before it’s even born!"
"And oh god, we need to baby proof! Look at all these sharp edges!!"
"And where are we going to put the crib?? And w.."
She stops pacing and taking inventory of all the death traps their seemingly innocuous apartment poses to spin around and face Brittany.
"I’m barely 2 months, honey, we have plenty of time to prepare. Come here, come here" she waves Santana over to sit on the couch.
"Hi, baby and other baby" Santana giggles out.
"We’re having a baby and i love you."
"I love you too, this doesn’t feel real"
"I promise it’s real. And it’s going to feel even more real when we call and tell our parents that you knocked me up…"
Brittany laughs as she watches Santana’s eyes widen.
Hi Anon! Sure can! Now, I must say, I’m not a fan of a Brittana marriage proposal at age 19 or 20, and especially not in front of the entire Glee Club. However, working in those spoiler parameters, I pulled this bit of drabble outta my ass. Enjoy!
When Santana enters the choir room you lose your train of thought. You were talking to Kurt, but that ended as soon as you laid eyes on her. She looks beautiful. The same as always, but different. What was it about her today? Her hair is half pulled back. She looks softer. Younger. Smaller. She’s wearing faded jeans, and brown boots, a white shirt and a long light coat over top. You watch her walk up the choir room steps and glance shyly at you before she sits down. She leans over. Her perfume fills your head.
We were snoozing in bed around ten the next morning when Santana’s phone started to play that Darth Vader song from Star Wars. The beat went well with the pounding in my temples. I groaned and nudged Santana closer to her nightstand.
Santana picked up the phone. “Good morning, Quinn.”
I hid my eyes in the crook of my elbow and tried to will my hangover away while they discussed meeting for lunch.
"How does Spago at eleven thirty sound, honey?" I heard Santana ask.
"I’m gonna assume that question was for me, unless you’ve taken your relationship with Quinn to the next level."
"Quinn does know how to treat a lady," Santana said. The little minx actually sounded wistful.
Future Brittana, wedding? For a prompt.)
Right here, right now, Santana is regulating her breath. In through the nose on four, hold for seven, out through the mouth on eight. In, 2, 3, 4… Hold, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7… and Out, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. And again… And…
The soft morning light shining through the window sheers light up your eyelids and make you turn your sleepy head away from the awakening day. Your body and mind start their slow release from slumber, yet you keep your eyes closed. If you didn’t open them, you could stay here, in this dream world, in her arms. The weight of one arm across your stomach and the other under your neck and pillow. You lay on your back, and feel her sleepful breaths tickle your neck, and tease the hair against your ear. She is soft and warm stretched against your side. Her arm wrapped around you. Claiming you in her sleep. And old habit, perhaps, from the times you’d run. That was so long ago. Then again, it wasn’t.
You feel like you’ve lived two lifetimes in the two years since you’ve graduated. This past week was a reminder of how far you’ve come. Spending a week trying to recruit self-involved, bitchy cheerleaders for Rachel’s new Glee Club, showed you how scared you were. How - like the high school cheerleaders today - you were terrified of losing power. Losing your place. Losing your reputation. Terrified of letting anyone see the real you. The real you, you spent so much fruitless energy trying to hide, ignore, and discount. Back then, things were simpler. Your worries, so trivial, viewed through the lens of experience of life and mistakes and disappointments and heartache. Why did you waste so much time? You smile sadly and sigh at your old misguided ways. What did you know. You were just a kid.You hardly recognize the girl you were from the woman you are today.
For today you woke up in her arms. As you do every morning. But here, back in her bedroom, where it all started, you feel nostalgic. The bed spread still smells like her, and her mom’s fabric softener. The crack in the ceiling paint still stares back at you in the dim morning light. The busy floral wallpaper, that you never liked, but now is a comforting reminder of innocent days. Now it’s bare, only pin holes and stains left by adhesive, adorn the walls. All those pictures and decorations now pepper your room, in your apartment. The one you share with her, all those hundreds of miles away.
You stroke down her arm that lays protectively across your stomach, and tickle your fingers over her knuckles. You study the fine hairs and the pale freckles that dot her skin. You know each and every one. You’ve known them for years, yet you still stare. You study. You commit them to memory. Again and again. She shifts her leg and you shift yours, in deference. To give her more room as she sleeps. The faint twinge of ache left over from last night’s lovemaking makes you smile. The pads of your fingers dance over the back of her hand. Her hand that touched you so sweetly, and gripped so firmly. She’s always been so strong, and so soft. Always both with you. Always just the amount you needed. You turn your head towards her, and watch her sleep. Her breath, stale from sleep, still has traces of you on it. You press your lips together, and can still taste her. You. Together. Us.
Her fair eyelashes flutter. Her breaths change. She’s awakening from her dreams. It’s funny, you think, how people dream at night. But to you, it’s the first dawn of morning, coccooned in sheets and blankets and limbs, and her, that is the true dream. You always had honest talks late at night, in the safetly of the dark. But with morning, came truth, and a living dream you never want to leave. You’ve thought about this for years, and today you’re going to make it happen. You will never have to leave her side, awake or asleep. She’s chosen you time and time again, and you’ve come back to her so many times. You’re here to stay. Your fingertips caress her fingers again, and you linger on the third one. You pet it lightly, up and down. You sigh and smile as she opens her eyes.
“Good morning,” she mumbles with happy sleepiness.
“Yes, it is a good morning,” you reply. “A very good morning.”
“Santana, would you stop fidgeting for a fucking second?” Quinn huffs, fixing a loose pin on Santana’s hairdo.
“I’m sorry,” Santana answers, the most subdued voice of all times.
Quinn raises an eyebrow. “Are you panicking? Don’t panic.”
“I’m not panicking!” Santana stands up, pushes Quinn shoulder and turns to the mirror, checking her makeup for the 14th time. “I just want it to be perfect.”
I was helping myself to another bourbon at the open bar when a girl parked herself beside my elbow. She wore a getup that made her look like a teenage peacock, the kind that expected attention. I kept my nose in my glass and took a nice big sip. Not bad for a fundraising event. Something had to keep the hinges on those checkbooks greased.
When the girl couldn’t take it anymore, she said to me, “You’re Britt Pierce.”
"Yep, that’s me."
She didn’t need to introduce herself but she did it anyway. “I’m Sugar Motta.”
Sugar Motta, America’s auto-tuned sweetheart. Her face was inescapable: on TV, news sites, gossip rags, the headlines braying about Sugar Motta’s new album, Sugar Motta’s on tour, Sugar Motta’s got a new boyfriend.
I stuck out my hand. “Pleased to meet you, Sugar Motta.”
Her handshake was surprisingly firm. “Likewise,” she said. She looked me square in the eyes when she spoke. “Ms. Pierce, I was hoping to—”
Title: Tetra’s Finest
AN: AN: For proudlyunicorn who celebrated her birthday today (shh I haven’t gone to bed yet so it’s totally still your birthday). Happy Birthday, Kara!
Summary: Santana and Brittany have an award ceremony to attend for brilliant minds and despite her confidence in her abilities, Santana’s still pessimistic about how the night will turn out. Luckily, she has Brittany there to be hopeful enough for the both of them.
Santana couldn’t help but smile at the sight before her: Her Britt-Britt hunched over a metal desk, tongue poking out as she fiddled with a pile of mechanical parts in front of her. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, but several strands had escaped over time. Santana let her finagle one more gear into place before entering the room, her black heels clicking on the linoleum. While it seemed like Brittany hadn’t heard her come in, Santana knew better. As she stepped next to her, Brittany immediately looked over and gave her a tired smile.
“You look so pretty, San,” Brittany said when she saw the strapless crimson-colored dress adorning her wife’s body.
“I always do,” Santana replied. When Brittany pouted, she leaned down and placed a quick kiss on the lower lip jutting out. She pulled away and said, “It’s always nice to hear you say it, though.”
“Good first day, Brittany?”
“Oh, yes! Your husband is a genius, and everything is so interesting, and it’s so pretty here, and… It was a great first day,” Brittany ends shyly.
There was an ask the other day about the plots in the story and I thought I’d do a mini-recap of what’s going on with each storyline. This is a very, very brief overview, so there’s not a ton of detail, but hopefully, it will jog your memories.
This goes without saying, but SPOILER ALERT- don’t read this unless you’re completely caught up.