62 Miles from Manhattan to Lakewood

"You're walking really loudly," Santana lifted her aviators to tell Brittany as they filed up the pathway leading to her parents' door. When the sun hit her eyes, she immediately covered them again.

"I'm walking normally," Brittany said to her.

"Are you sure?" The brunette rubbed her temples with her free hand. "It sounds really aggressive."

"My feet are not aggressive. And they can't help that you drank everything in Rachel's liquor cabinet last night."

"You're mean today," Santana whined. When she got to the front door, she pushed it open. "Mami? Hello?"

"Is she here?" Brittany asked as she scooted in behind the other woman.

"Doesn't look like it." Santana walked in further and did a 360 on the spot. She listened to the silence. "Doesn't sound like it either."

When she chanced a glance at Brittany, the blonde hadn't moved much further than the door. She was squeezing the bottle of water in her hand like a vice grip. The crinkling was magnified by a thousand. "You look like you might make a run for it." When she still didn't say anything, Santana reached around her and closed the door, "It's going to be fine, Britt Britt."

"Yeah...for you."

"Brittany," Santana caught her eyes, "It will be fine."

"Santana, she tried to stop our wedding," Brittany hissed. She looked around to make sure Mrs. Lopez really wasn't lurking.

"I've told you a million times, she had a leg cramp."

"At the exact moment the minister asked if there were any objections?"

"An unfortunate coincidence."

"She said the word, 'Stop.'"

"To her leg cramp," Santana said. "Then she sat back down."

"Because your father kicked the back of her leg."

"He was helping with the cramp."

"Sure," Brittany said tersely. No matter how many times Santana fed her that line, she would never believe it.

"Hey, it was a leg cramp," Santana said. "And even if it wasn't. Even if she had protested the wedding, marched in a semi-circle, and had signs made. Even if she had staged a sit-in and handcuffed herself to a radiator, it wouldn't have mattered. I love you and I wanted to marry you. Nothing and no one would have stopped me."

Brittany let out a deep breath, "I love you, too."

"Well, isn't this cute?" the two heard from close by. Too close. "Love declarations in foyer."

"There you are!" Santana squeaked out, then winced as pain shot through her brain.

"Hello, mija," Maribel Lopez said as she walked over to give her daughter a hug. She patted her back several times. "I was upstairs and didn't hear you come in."

"We just got here," Santana held up her suitcase to prove her point.

"Merry Christmas!" Brittany told Mrs. Lopez brightly. The blonde was greeted with a slightly more awkward one-armed hug. "It's good to see you again."

"You, as well, Brittany," Santana's mother said with a thin-lipped smile. She pointed to Santana's baggage and then up the stairs, "You'll be staying in your old bedroom, if that's okay."

"That's fine," Santana said and then gestured for Britt to follow her. "We'll go put our stuff away."

"As soon as they were safely in Santana's room, Brittany turned and said, "She hates me."

"She does not!"

Brittany, who was sifting through her purse said, "She looks at me like I kidnapped you and forced you to Seattle."

"Well, babe, that's because I told her you kidnapped me and forced me to Seattle."

"You probably did," Brittany pulled out some aspirin and tossed it over.

"No, I didn't," Santana caught the bottle and dropped her bag. "I promise you, I didn't."

Brittany dropped heavily onto the bed, "Are you sure?"

Santana opened the bottle and poured out a couple pills. "I'm sure."

"That she doesn't hate me or you didn't say that?" Brittany checked as she tossed over her bottle of water.

"Both," Santana laughed but stopped when Brittany glared at her. She swallowed the aspirin and set both bottles down. "Babe..." She took the few steps to her wife and sat down beside her. "My mother doesn't hate you. Nobody could ever hate you, Brittany. You're the most magical, beautiful woman in the world."

"Thank you," Brittany said as she leaned in to her. "But, I think you're just saying that because your mom hates me."

"Hey," Santana lifted her chin. "You are."

"Only because you make me infinitely more magical," Brittany said right before she captured Santana's lips with her own.

The brunette's hand slipped behind Brittany's neck to pull her in closer as she tilted her head for better access. She had just fallen backwards, tugging Brittany down with her when they heard an obnoxious knocking.

"Santana!" Maribel shouted through the door. "Your abuela is here."

"Mood killer," Brittany complained.

"Okay!" Santana called to her mother. She then turned to Brittany, "Just so you know, Abuela has been really inquisitive lately."

"Inquisitive how?"

"You know Papi talked her getting the Internet. Well, we've been exchanging emails."

"Yeah, I know. That's been going well, right?"

"It has," Santana glanced back toward the door and lowered her voice, "but she's started asking some...personal questions."

"How personal?" Brittany was slightly disturbed and mouthed the word, "Sex."

"Santana!" Maribel banged on the door again.

"Be right there," Santana answered and sat up.

"How personal?" Brittany asked again more urgently.


"This is going to be fun," the blonde sighed.


Santana and her abuela had been very close for the majority of her childhood. They were, in fact, until the day Santana told her she was a lesbian, confirming the news previously reported on public access television. That day, Alma Lopez, told her granddaughter that she wanted nothing more to do with her. The journey back had taken over ten years, but Santana and Alma had reconnected in a way that the younger Lopez never thought possible. Alma had attended her wedding, she even kept a framed 8 X 10 on her mantle of the brides according to Santana's father. They spoke on a weekly basis, sometimes by phone, but recently by email. Alma had discovered all the Internet had to offer as of late.

"Ahí están," Alma said as Santana and Brittany came down the steps.

"Abuela!" Santana greeted her with a hug.

Alma hugged her and then squeezed her arms and checked her over closely. "You're all bones. Why don't you eat?"

"I do."

"Could have fooled me."

"I see Mami called you right away," Santana said, giving her mother a pointed glare.

"She didn't have to, I've been watching with my binoculars since noon. Right after my stories."

"Ah," Santana nodded.

"Hi Abuela," Brittany then said.

"Hola Brittany," Alma hugged the tall blonde. She gave Brittany much the same pat down. "You girls are so skinny. Do they have food in Seattle?"

"Yes, Abuela," Santana answered. "Remarkably, they do have food in Seattle."

The four ladies had survived the afternoon and had already sat down to dinner when Santana's father arrived. He had called earlier and told them he was setting the broken arm of a kid that just got a new scooter. He'd be home as soon as possible. Nobody was surprised by the development, he stayed very busy. Brittany had only actually seen Roberto Lopez a few times. A couple lunches in New York and at their wedding in the summer.

He made the most of those times, though. He was incredibly handsome. His hair had a bit of silver, but he had the same dark, expressive eyes that Santana had. And Santana had most definitely gotten his charm and charisma.

"Lo siento," Santana's father as soon as he entered his home. He walked directly into the dining room, only stopping to give Santana a kiss on the head before slinging his suit jacket over the back of his chair and sitting.

"Papi," Santana smiled politely. "Busy in the ER?"

"Christmas Eve," the man answered in explanation.


"So who's this?" Roberto asked Santana, hooking his thumb toward Brittany.


"Es broma," he said with a wink.

"Don't listen to him," Santana said across the table. "He knows who you are."

"Of course, I do," Roberto said to the blonde. "How could forget Santana's beautiful bride. How have you been, Brittany?"

"Great," Brittany answered.

"Good," Roberto said as he speared a vegetable. "I take it work is going well for the both of you?"

"Sí, Papi," Santana answered quickly. She hated to talk about work in front of her mother.

"Yeah," Brittany said nearly at the same time. "We're working on a new national ad right now."

"Really? That's great," he commented. "Everytime I see that Fondue For Two commercial on in a patient's room, I tell them my daughter-in-law is responsible."

Maribel cleared her throat, "He used to tell all his patients that his daughter was Rachel Berry's publicist."

The table fell quiet with that remark, all eyes slowly turned to Maribel who continued eating her dinner as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Por favor, mami," Santana said quietly.

"She still could be if she wanted," Brittany told Maribel confidently. "All she has to do is say the word."

"We're happy where we are," Santana followed her up.

Brittany quietly went back to eating and Santana glanced at her father.

"If you two are happy, so are we," he said.

"We'd be happier if you came home every once in a while," Maribel added.

"Mami," Santana sighed.

"Sí, bueno, desde luego no parece que sea una prioridad tuya."

"¿Tenemos que hacer esto ahora?"

"Tu madre tiene razón," Alma added. "You should come see your family."

"Estoy aquí ahora. Y en vez de estar disfrutando este momento todos juntos, estamos hablando de que nunca os visito." Santana glanced over to Brittany. "Sorry," she apologized.

"Sabes que es verdad, Santana." Alma continued. "You look guilty. Just like the look on your face when you were eight and stole Mrs. Ramirez's kitty."

"I did not," Santana denied.


"I did not steal that kitty!" Santana looked to Brittany again, who was waiting expectantly. "A neighbor accused me of stealing her cat when I was eight. I didn't! The cat ran way because Ramirez was such a bitch."

"¿Todavía sigues con la misma historia?"

"English!" Santana gestured to Britt. "And yes."

"Mrs. Ramirez and Santana had many battles," Roberto mused to Brittany.

"She was crazy."

"You made it your mission to ruin her prized roses for nearly ten years," Santana's father reminded her.

"She accused me of stealing her kitty," Santana shrugged. "She had it coming."

"Speaking of Mrs. Ramirez, her grandson was replacing my muffler last week and I noticed he's very handsome, Santana," Alma said.

Santana looked to each of her parents for an explanation as to what was going on before she asked, "What's that have to do with anything, Abuela?"

"I didn't know if you two were looking for fathers yet or not."

Again Santana looked to each of her parents for help. "Uh, thanks for the recommendation, but..."

"And I'd like to see another grandchild before I die."

"Doesn't Yolanda have like four now?" Santana asked with a smirk. "She's good at producing offspring."

"One from you, Santana." Alma said. "Your father agrees."

Roberto choked, "Don't get me involved."

"I'll admit I didn't think it was possible," Abuela spoke to Brittany and Santana, "but now that I'm on the world wide web, I've been reading many articles on the lesbians...and conception."

"That's...great," Brittany said. "Isn't that great, Santana?"


"Neither of you are getting any younger," Alma said, eyebrows arched.


"Yo ya había tenido a todos mis hijos a tu edad."

"English," Santana reminded her.

"It's okay," Brittany said to Abuela. "I can pick up some Spanish. Like 'hijos.' She smiled at Santana's grandmother. "Also...'más fuerte,' sigue así,' and 'usa tus dedos.'"

Santana snorted. "Down pat."

"No es como si fueramos a ver al bebé de todas formas," Maribel said disapprovingly. "Santana doesn't see the need in visiting her own family."

"Thanks for saying that in English."

The rest of their Christmas Eve dinner was mostly eaten in silence, except for utensils hitting plates and the sound of Santana's eyes rolling.

Afterwards, Roberto quickly dismissed himself to turn in and Abuela announced she had some important knitting to catch up on. Brittany stayed until Santana signaled she could go. She then awkwardly said she was going upstairs to shower. As soon as she was gone, Santana immediately turned on her mother.

"That was uncalled for!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Maribel denied.

"That kind of stuff is why Britt thinks you hate her."

"That's absurd, Santana," her mother dismissed it. "I like Brittany very much. She's so pretty. And playful and sweet-natured."

"Why do you sound like you're describing a puppy?"

"I do not!"

"I know that you don't like that I moved to Seattle," Santana said. "I know that you don't like I gave up my job with Rachel."

"I never said that," Maribel interjected.

"But, you can't blame Brittany for those things, Mami." She looked her mother in the eye. "I'm the one who made those decisions. I wanted to be with her more than anything, and I made it happen. Which is what you always told me to do."

"It is," Maribel said. "I taught you to be independent and strong and go with your gut, and that's exactly what you did."

"Then why?"

"Because...you just...moved away," Santana's mother let her guard down. "You didn't even talk to me about it. You left me a voicemail. And then you never came back."

"Yes, I did."

"To pack up your apartment and to see your friends. Then you'd call on the day you were set to fly out and have us meet you in the city for a quick lunch."

Santana winced at the truth behind that statement.

"And I practically had to beg you to come for Christmas this year," Maribel continued. "You're always too busy."

"We weren't too busy for you, Mami..."

"Sure, sure, Santana," Maribel gave her the Lopez eye roll. "First Brittany was working, then you were working. You still made it to the Pierces, though."

"We were here for New Years!"

"Not here!"

"Brittany had never done Times Square for the ball drop, Mami," Santana said. "We were here the next day."

"For twenty minutes," Maribel grumbled.

"Oh, please. It was longer than that."

"Half an hour, then."

"You've got to get over it," Santana commanded with little room for negotiation. "We're married. We live in Seattle. She's got a great job there, and so do I. And we're b-"

Santana stopped there. She hadn't discussed that particular venture with her mother and really didn't want Brittany overhearing.

"I already know," Maribel claimed. "Your father told me."

"Well, she doesn't yet."

"Which is why I didn't mention it."


"I wouldn't ruin your Christmas gift to your wife, Santana."

"I appreciate that." Santana rapped her knuckles on the table. "Mami, I wouldn't have left if I didn't know...I knew I was going to marry her. I knew that I would love her forever. I just knew. I wouldn't have changed my entire life for anybody else. It's her. She is..." Santana swallowed. "She just is, Mami. Everything."


When Santana opened to door to her childhood room, she stopped abruptly in the doorway. Brittany was lying on her bed, propped up on one arm, waiting.

"What?" The blonde asked when she noticed Santana wasn't moving.

"Uh," Santana swallowed. "I just...I wish I could go back in time tell 17 year old me about this moment."

"I bet 17 year old you was adorable."

"She was a rage case with a bad attitude."

"Bad attitude?! You? No way!"

"Believe it," Santana said as she finally took a few steps toward the bed. "I was struggling with being gay and didn't know what the hell to do with myself."

"Happens to the best of us," Brittany said, extending the arm that had been previously resting on the bed. "Everything okay down there?"

"More of the same," Santana took it and fell into place beside her. "We don't visit enough. I moved."

"Oh," Brittany blew out of a deep breath.



"It's not about you," Santana said. "It's really not. You're amazing and she knows it."


When Brittany shifted, she really expected her to rest her head on her shoulder, but instead the blonde twisted around and made a pillow of her stomach. She pulled her knees up into a ball and faced Santana.

"So...are you going to tell me what else is going on?"

Santana panicked, but tried her best to keep it off her face. She kept the secret for this fucking long, and Brittany found out on the day before. Of course. "Uh..nothing," Santana said.



"Sam." It was a command.

"Has intertubes where his mouth should be?"


"Is a victim of collagen gone wrong?"

"Tell me what's going on with you two." Brittany poked her in the ribs. "I know it's something."

Santana's head rolled to the side. "No, there's not."

"Yes, there is," Brittany said with conviction. "There's some crazy tension there. For weeks, Santana."

Relief washed through her. Brittany hadn't found out the big secret, just the smaller less well kept one. "Did you know Kurt asked him to move to New York? And Sam hasn't given him an answer."

Brittany's eyes darted around for a few seconds before she reluctantly said, "Ye-es."

Santana's looked at her suspiciously. "How long have you known?"

"Since Kurt asked." Brittany's thumb and index finger automatically went to the ring that she wore on her left hand. "And Sam didn't answer."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Santana asked leaning up as much as she could.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Brittany asked her right back.

Santana really hated when she did that and she showed her annoyance by dropping dramatically back to the mattress.

"Best friend privilege," Brittany stated.

"Doesn't count when it's you and me," Santana told her. "We've covered this."

"No," Brittany stopped her. "When Kurt and Sam got together, we had to restructure the agreement. Remember?"

"Well, I just found out," Santana admitted. "He-"

"Which 'he?'"

"Kurt, he. Of course."


"Why would Sam tell me?"

"I don't know," Brittany shrugged. "Go on."

"Kurt didn't bother mentioning it until last week. I was busy with other stuff, apparently..."

"What stuff?"

"Nothing," Santana mentally slapped herself. "Work stuff..."

Now it was Brittany's turn to be suspicious, "You haven't mentioned any work stuff."

"It was boring, stupid work crap, baby," Santana tried. "Taken care of now."

"You sure?"


"Okay," Brittany's hand absentmindedly scratched at Santana's side. "So, are you mad at Sam for not answering Kurt?"

"I'm not mad. Just...irritated," Santana replied. "Sam is always...around. Complaining. Bitching and moaning about how hard it is not to be with his boyfriend. Like we don't know..."

"We know," Brittany agreed.

"If he feels that way, he should just move."

"They're aren't us," Brittany said as she tapped the spot on Santana's hip that she been circling with her finger.

"Everybody keeps saying that."

"Because it's true," Brittany said. "Besides, I think Sam is going to. He keeps talking about how much he'll miss me and going on about how great it was when we lived together."

"He is?" Santana looked at her wife for any clue that she knew more.

"Yeah," Brittany nodded. "It's a little weird."

"Sam's weird. And irritating. And cramping my style," Santana said with disgust. "And his face looks like one of those inflatable ball pits."

"He almost drowned in one when he was nine." Brittany was completely serious. "Dusty McCracken lost his pants, so Sam went under to check it out and almost died. That's how he knew he was gay."

"And an idiot."

"He's still my bestie, Santana," Brittany said in warning.

"I know, I know."

A comfortable silence filled the room while Santana took in her surroundings. Her parents had left this place largely untouched. The same posters still adorned the walls. She still had trophies from high on shelves with various medals hanging down. It was a time capsule, of sorts.

"I dreamed of you so many nights in this bed," Santana finally said as she lifted her head to look at her wife.

Brittany's brow furrowed, "How?"

"The idea of you. I didn't know your name. I hadn't seen your face, yet. But that perfect girl I hoped to find...it was definitely you."

Brittany's face immediately scrunched in a smile and she pulled at Santana's shirt. "How do you do that?"

"How do I do what?" Santana asked.

"Make me all fluttery," Brittany said.

"Returning the favor." Santana grabbed the back of Brittany's thigh and pulled. "Come here."

Brittany slowly lifted herself to her hands and knees and crawled until she hovering over the brunette. "Do I make you fluttery?"

"You always have," Santana answered.

Brittany went in about halfway before she stopped, "You want to be 17 year old Santana in your bedroom and I'll be the older, sexy librarian you snuck in?"

"Librarian?" Santana asked with a quirk of her eyebrow.

"No?" Brittany thought a second. "I'll be your private tutor, helping you with your social studies."


Brittany cut the distance in half again, "Better?"

"You know what would be the sexiest?"


"My really really hot, amazing, beautiful ad exec wife."

"Oh, I think I can play that part," Brittany winked.

"So, I guess you have no aversion to sex at my parents' house?"

"Nope." Brittany said staring at Santana's lips. "None at all."

"Oh, good," Santana's hands found Britt's ass. "Neither do I."

Brittany's mouth ghosted along Santana's neck, over her chin, to her oh-so-kissable lips. She dropped down to straddle Santana's thighs and reached back to grab Santana's hands and lace their fingers together. Brittany took the opportunity to pin her wife's hands above her head. "Looks like I have you where I want you."

"You can have me anywhere you want," Santana choked out as she bucked into Brittany.

"Santana!" They heard Alma's voice from the hallway which caused them both to still. "I'm staying in the room next to yours. Continue with whatever you were doing." Then after a second, "¡Buenas noches Santana!" and after another second. "Buenas noches Brittany, cariño."

"Goodnight!" Brittany looked down and said to Santana, "With the amount of cock blocking Abuela is doing, I'm finding it hard to believe she's not still against the gay."


"Merry Christmas," Santana whispered into Brittany's ear as soon as she saw stirrings of the other woman waking up.

Brittany blinked one eye open, "Mury Kismus."

"Wake up."

The blonde yawned and snuggled back into the blanket.

Santana shook her a bit, "Britt Britt..."


"I have something for you."

Brittany's eye popped open again. "You do?"

Santana reached behind and presented a box. It was wrapped the same way as the other boxes, but this one was bigger.

"Okay," Brittany brightened and sat up in bed. She reached for the box, but Santana pulled it back.

"Kiss first."

"Morning breath."

"Gimme your lips."

"Fine," Brittany puckered for a quick kiss and snatched the box. She tore it open and just like the times before, she was genuinely confused. "Okay, what's with the weird gifts?"

"You don't like it?"

"It's a pillow." Brittany pulled out gift, turned it around and hugged it to her chest.

"Yeah." Santana plucked it out of her hands.

"It's...well...really ugly, baby."

"Geez, Britt!"

"Hey!" Brittany pointed. "You said honesty always."

"About feelings and shit, not about gifts I stitched myself."

"Aww," the blonde grabbed the pillow back. "You did?"

"...Well...no...I lied..."

Brittany quickly threw the pillow back.

"But the important thing is that I could have. Then you'd feel really terrible."

"I'd feel worse for your eyes, Honey. That's hideous."

"But it has a heart on it," Santana studied it again knowing full well that the thing was not attractive. "It's a throw pillow."

"Can I throw it away?"

"But...the heart!" Santana said again.

"And a little house," Brittany pointed to it. She frowned, "So very ugly."

"I'm hurt," Santana pouted.

"I didn't say you were ugly. You're delicious." Brittany tapped her on the knee. "You want your gift?"


Brittany hopped out of bed and rifled through the only piece of luggage she's ever allowed to pack, her carry-on backpack. She discreetly placed a box in her tank top and then reached into the zipper compartment for a photograph.

When she turned around, Santana's eyes immediately dropped to the outline of the box. "Uh...babe, were you trying to hide that?"

"Hide what?"

"I can see that."

"See what?"

Santana waved her finger in the direction of Brittany's boobs, "You're hiding that in your cleavage."

"Can you not humor me, honey?" Brittany pulled the box out. "I was going to do the other one first."

"Oh, okay."

"Nope, now you get this one," Brittany handed the velvet box to her wife.

Santana already had the biggest grin on her face, having a pretty good idea what was in the box.

"Open it."

When she did, her smile got impossibly bigger, "Bling!" Santana trailed her finger over the diamond pendant necklace. "I love it!"

"I know!" Brittany said. "I got the hint when you mentioned it...all fourteen times."

"It wasn't that many."

"Was, too." Brittany slid the picture over on the bed. "Gift number two."

"Tony's!" the brunette said when she looked at it. "God, I love that place."

"Yeah," Brittany said in response to Santana's favorite pizza place. It was the only thing that New York had that Seattle couldn't come up with a replacement for.

Santana flipped over the picture, "Are we going to Tony's? It's Christmas, I'm not sure they're open."

"No, no," Brittany said. "Um...you see the sign?"

"Tony's! The Tastiest Pie in the City. Come one, come all!" Santana recited without looking.

"Yeah," the blonde nodded. "It's in Seattle now."

"What?!" Santana's eyes were wide as saucers. "How? What? How?"

"I worked out a deal with Tony. I have connections, plus a give a good lap dance. Sam's been hiding it for me."

"Double agent, that Sam."


"Nothing! Nothing...I can't believe you did that...How?" Santana asked again. "Wait, lap dance?"


"Honestly, I wouldn't have cared," Santana waved the picture, "because this is amazing! Thank you so much!"

"I'm not sure what we'll do with it-"

"We'll figure something out..."

"I just..." Brittany shrugged, "wanted you to have a piece of New York...I guess."

"I love this, it's perfect and so fucking cool!" Santana said, lifting the photograph. She pulled Brittany into a hug and kissed her all over her face. "You are...I love you."

"Well, you did say once that Tony's was the only thing you'd leave me for."

"I was particularly hungry that night," Santana said defensively. "I was delirious with pizza withdrawal."

"Uh huh."

"Really!" Santana said sincerely.


The previous night's dinner made Christmas morning another semi-awkward affair. Santana and Maribel were barely speaking to each other, which left Roberto and Brittany busy making small talk to fill the gaps. Abuela had busied herself knitting something that looked a whole hell of a lot like tiny baby hats.

Even while exchanging gifts, the only bright spot was when Roberto opened his card and in it was a subscription to the Cognac of the Month Club.

"Thanks ladies!" he said when he read it.

Santana snorted, but still said, "You're very welcome, Papi."

"Change of address form," Brittany shrugged when Santana looked her way. "Apparently Cognac is the gift that keeps on giving."

Santana's gift from her grandmother would have been as well, if she hadn't been completely mortified when she opened a box full of turkey basters. "Abuela!" she had screamed.

"¡Nada de excusas, Santanita!" Alma had replied.

Other than that, the whole house was pretty tense. When the good Dr. Lopez was paged away to the ER and Abuela decided to hop on her Hoveround and motor the few blocks back home, the tension got even thicker.

The stubbornness of Santana and Maribel won out and the entire morning was wasted with silence. Soon, it was time for Santana and Brittany to head back into the city to catch their flight home.

Just as the two were leaving, Maribel finally caved. "Brittany," she said, catching the blonde's arm.

"Yes?" Brittany was almost afraid to ask.

"I'm so sorry if I made you feel anything but welcome...in our home and in our family."

Brittany was shell shocked by the statement. She sort of stared at Santana's mom for a few moments before stuttering out, "Th-thanks...uh...you haven't...that much."

"Yes, she has," Santana snapped.

"I'm apologizing now," Maribel said to Santana. She then looked to Brittany, "Both Robby and I love you. We love you because Santana loves you and you obviously love her as well. We just want her to be happy. And she's very happy." Maribel flicked her eyes to her daughter, "Well, maybe not at this moment."

"Thank you," Brittany said at the sincerity of the apology.

"And, if it's okay, I would like to come out to Seattle and visit," Maribel said. "Maybe in a few weeks."

"We would absolutely love that," Brittany said immediately.

"Would you?"

"I know I would, it would give us the chance to get to know each other," the blonde looked over to Santana who had her eyes narrowed a bit. "And so would Santana. She doesn't look like it right now, because she thinks giving you attitude is making a point...but you probably know all about that."

"I do, Brittany," Maribel smiled at her brightly. "But I think it might be nice to someone else to talk about her with."

"Oh, I'm great at talking about her."

"Thanks a lot," Santana piped up.

"Mostly good!" Brittany said.

"Well," Maribel pulled the blonde into a surprising hug. "Make sure your wife calls her mother, okay. Then we can discuss my visit."

"Don't worry, I'm very persuasive."

2880 Miles from Lakewood to Seattle

It wasn't until their plane took off from JFK, that Santana started to feel a little nervous about what was going to happen when they got back home. She had a whole plan mapped out. She had a speech at the ready for any time during her plan that she needed coercion or an explanation. All her t's were crossed and her i's were dotted. The only thing that could go wrong was Brittany. If Brittany didn't like it, or Brittany didn't want to, or if Brittany was super pissed that she made such a huge decision without her. That was really the thing that Santana was scared of, how big of a surprise can it be without being too big a surprise to be surprised with? The nerves were making her a little crabby, too, because the first bit of turbulence made her curse out loud.

"Whoa, honey," Brittany said, patting her knee. "What's wrong with you now?"

"Nothing," Santana snapped. "I'm just...tired."

"It's been a long few days."

"No, well, yes," the brunette replied. "But I'm tired of flying all over the place. They should come to us every once in a while."

"I'm sure nobody would argue with that," Brittany said diplomatically. "Your mom is going to soon. That's progress."

"Yeah, but that's just one," Santana pointed out.


"Not that I don't like seeing everyone, I do. I just wish we weren't the ones flying all over the country every time."


"I'm not complaining," Santana said.

"You are."

"I'm not," she groaned. "I'm just saying, it's time that they all came to Seattle for the holidays."

"It's easier for us," Brittany said, head on Santana's shoulder.

"To make three stops?" Santana argued.

"We don't have the room."

"Ye-, no...we don't...but they could stay in a hotel," she said. "Or something."

"You know how they would have to come to Seattle?" Brittany said in a conspiratorial voice.

"If I say so..."

"Nooo, if we had a baby," Brittany whispered.

"You think we could just borrow one for the week?"


"I'm kidding," Santana told her. "You know, I'm kidding."

Brittany straightened in her seat and angled herself as much as she could. "Are you kidding? You've been kind of weird about the topic lately."

"Not weird."

"Yes, weird." Brittany sighed. "I know we have other things that come before that on the Flawless Plan, but it's never too early to discuss it."

"We're discussing."

"I'm discussing."

Santana licked her lips. "I want, more than anything, to have babies with you. You know that, Britt. I can't wait until we have our own little family of bouncy blondes."

"Or a surly little kid with a foul mouth and your eyes," Brittany followed up.

"Or that," Santana smiled. The idea really was pretty appealing.

"I like the name Naomi."

"Naomi?" Santana let it roll around in her head. "All I can see is an overly dramatic teenager yelling at me about ruining her life. I like it! What else you got?"


"Interesting choice."

Brittany winked, "I'm an interesting girl."

4 Miles from Downtown Seattle to Beacon Hill

Brittany had barely jiggled the door handle enough to get into their apartment before Santana was telling her she wanted to go out again.

"Go out?" Brittany asked as she propped her up their suitcase and tossed her keys on the table. "Honey, we just got home. Let's take a bath and go to bed."

"We can do that when we get back," Santana said. She sorted through all the mail that had collected in their box in the lobby before placing it next to Brittany's keys. "It won't take long."

"What is it?"

"Just an errand.'


"Yeah," Santana rested on the edge of the table. "I want you to go with me."

Brittany pouted, "I don't wanna."

"Come on," Santana tried to persuade her. "I'll buy you ice cream. I'll get you a caramel marshmallow shake. Extra caramel, extra sprinkles."

"Hm, extra caramel? So tempting," Brittany said under her breath. She turned to her wife, "But no."




"Because why?"

"Ah!" Santana huffed. "Because I have one more present."

"For me?"

"For you."

"Well, why didn't you just say so," Brittany said. She leaned over to pick up her keys, gave her wife's cheek a quick kiss, and headed back toward the door, "Let's go!"

Santana rolled her eyes, "I don't why the hell I didn't just say 'present.' That would have worked so much faster."

"Yep!" Brittany said loudly as she was already through the door and down the hallway. When she got to the elevator, she looked back to Santana. "Wait, where are we going again?"

"That's a surprise, Britt Britt."

"Okay," Brittany mentally ran through any clues Santana may have dropped recently. "Big surprise or little surprise?"

"If you're asking in terms of actual size, that could mean many things," Santana replied. "And could be measured in many ways, for instance, comparable to other "surprises" of it's kind: Medium. Surprises meaning the surprise itself, not surprises in general. If we're talking about our personal surprise meter: Less surprising than me moving across the country overnight, more surprising than a few weekends ago when I woke up early and cooked you breakfast."

Brittany was not amused, "You could have just said you weren't going to tell me."

"But that was so much more fun," Santana responded. When Brittany gave her the side eye, she wrapped an arm around her waist. "I love you," she sing songed.


The brunette hit the down button for the elevator. When they stepped inside, Brittany did a double-take at Santana's hitting the button for underground parking complex.

"We're driving somewhere? Is this a fancy surprise?"

"Maybe." Santana's mouth quirked up.

"Maybe?" Brittany said as she stepped over to the other woman and rested her hands on Santana's hips. "You're awfully mysterious right now. Definite turn-on."

Santana trailed her finger on the skin revealed by the V-neck t-shirt under Brittany's jacket, "Oh? Then maybe we should just stay in."

"Nope," Brittany winked. "You already said the 'p' word, now you have to give it to me."

"I promise, either way, I'll give it to you, babe." Santana hooked her finger into the Brittany's shirt and gave it a pull. She rocked up on her toes to steal a kiss. "How did I get so lucky?" she asked as she licked her lips.

"You got about as lucky as I did," Brittany said.

"Then we both got really fucking lucky," Santana said huskily. Her fingers trailed around Brittany's neck and pulled her wife down for another kiss.

"Orrs owen," Brittany mumbled while Santana's lips were still sliding against hers.

Santana pulled back with a pop, "What?"

"Door," the blonde gestured. "Open."

"Oh," Santana pulled the other woman out of the elevator to their car. When they approached, Brittany automatically moved toward the driver's side. "Whoa, whoa, no."

"You're driving?" Brittany asked.

"I'm driving."

"You never drive."

"I'm driving tonight," Santana said. She held her hand out expectantly. "Keys."

Brittany tilted her head to the side, "What's going on?"

Santana mimicked her expression, "A surprise, I told you that."

"A surprise that you're driving to?"

"Yes." Santana made a grab for the keys, only to have Brittany hold them above her head.

"Saaaan, tell me where we're going."


"Give me a hint."

"Nope," Santana shook her head.

"I won't give you the keys unless you fess up."

Two years with Brittany and she was still completely susceptible to the pout. The sexy wink still got her every single time. The cute morning mumble made Santana melt. However, two years gave her enough time to learn a lot tricks of her own. For example, the spot just to the inside of Brittany's hip bone was ticklish as hell. If only she could get close enough to hit the spot before Brittany figured out what she was doing.

Santana sighed, "Okay, babe. Okay."

"You'll tell me?"

"Yeah, I'll tell you," Santana crept closer. "I wanted it to be a surprise, but if you want to know..."

"I do," Brittany said, dropping her hand ever so slightly.

"I had this idea..." she took another step, "a while back," one more step, "for something that I just knew that you'd love," distract Brittany with her right hand leaning on the car, "and then the perfect one," and just wait... "just..." until Britt's eyes move over...now.

Santana hit the ticklish spot and Brittany immediately dropped her arms to giggle which gave her the opportunity to snatch the keys. Easy breezy.

"Don't challenge the master, hot stuff," Santana said as she gave her now pouting wife a pat on her ass. "Hop in."

"Not fair," Brittany complained.

It was a couple miles down the road before Brittany stopped pouting. The traffic on I-5 wasn't too bad, and Brittany kept looking at her every time they passed one of their normal places.

"Hey did you hear Quinn got divorced?" Santana asked cheekily.

"No," Brittany deadpanned. "That's brand new information. Maybe you can marry her, tickle her, and take her keys."

With every new building passed, Brittany seemed more and more confused.

"Relax!" Santana said about the eighth time Brittany looked at her with her lip curled up. She reached across the console to rest her hand on the blonde's thigh and noticed Brittany turning her wedding ring on her finger. "Don't be nervous, babe. Just a few more minutes."

Brittany shifted around in her seat and sat up a little straighter when they entered the neighborhood. It was a neighborhood she knew like the back of her hand. "What are we doing out here?"

"You'll see," Santana told her with a squeeze to her leg.

By this time, Brittany was staring at her. She was a little afraid to think what she was thinking, because if it wasn't what she was thinking, she'd be a little disappointed. Her hand went to her mouth by habit and she chewed on her thumbnail.

"What's wrong?"

"San," Brittany warned her.


"Did you do what I think you did?"

Santana laughed timidly, "Well, that depends on what you think I did."

"Did you?"

Her hand grasped her wife's. "You did, didn't you?"

"I may have," Santana shrugged.

Brittany watched closely as they passed street by street, waiting to see theirs.

When Santana turned down a very familiar street, Brittany started to cry. "Santana, are you serious?" she asked as she quickly wiped a tear off her face.

"Hey, don't cry." Santana clutched her hand tighter. "Happy moment."

When Santana actually pulled up in front of the house, Brittany was smiling through all the tears. Santana hopped out and went around to open the door. "You want to see it?"

"Ha ha, Santana," Brittany said as she took her wife outstretched hand. "I know everything about it already."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"How did you even do this?" Brittany asked in awe as she looked at her childhood home.

"The people that bought it from your parents were selling it. Good timing, I guess."

Brittany snapped her head to Santana, "Good timing, you guess?"

"Great timing?" Santana teased. "You told me when we came here that it was the perfect house to raise a family, you remember?"

Brittany wiped away a tear and nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I had already been checking out the market...and I saw it...and...I have the perfect girl. I needed the perfect house."

"You're amazing," Brittany said as she rushed forward and hugged Santana tightly.

She pulled a shiny key out of her pocket, "So you wanna go in?"

"Yes!" Brittany did the cute butt wiggle. "Of course, I do!"

The two women walked hand in hand up the sidewalk leading to the front door. "Sorry I couldn't find a big enough bow," Santana said when she laced their fingers together.

"I can't believe you bought me my old house," Brittany said still in shock.

"I know it's kind of a huge decision to make without you."

"It's perfect," the blonde said without a moment's hesitation. "And I've never loved you more than I do right now."

"Not even on the night of the double armpit double fantasy? You loved me a lot that night."

"Yes," Brittany said after a second of deliberation. "Even more than that night. Even more than our first night on your couch in New York, our first night locked in our bedroom in Seattle, and the day I married you, Santana Lopez."

Santana stopped when they got to the door and pulled Brittany in, "I love you, too, Brittany Pierce. Merry Christmas."

They shared dreamy smiles before Santana unlocked the door, "Go ahead," she motioned for the other woman to go inside.

Brittany passed by with a smirk. Santana waited just a couple of seconds before she heard exactly what she was expecting to hear.

"An air hockey table! Score!"



Thanks Reyes! Thanks Alex! Thanks NayH! Thanks for reading.