Not Quite There Yet
Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce, PG-13, 4.1k
Their argument stems from something that happens so quickly she's not actually sure it happened.
Their argument stems from something that happens so quickly she's not actually sure it happened.
Their argument stems from something that happens so quickly she's not actually sure it happened.
It's actually so quick that when Santana watches Brittany storm out the store, red in the face and blue eyes full of tears, she just stands there, looking around and wondering what the hell just happened just like the other people around her are. She seriously can't even remember what she did. One moment they were paying for their groceries, and the next Brittany's shaking her head at Santana and marching out the damn store.
Fuck.
They were only buying fucking groceries.
//
After one particular discussion about how they wanted to try out everything that couples could do together, whether it was cheesy or not, they landed on going grocery shopping together.
For some reason it made Brittany excited and so the next day, they went shopping just outside of the city, parking their brand new black Range Rover in the parking lot of the superstore and walked hand in hand up to the little alcove that contained all the shopping carts to grab one, before entering the store.
And Santana admits, as they walked through the automatic doors and saw like, a million other couples shopping, some with kids strapped into the kiddy-friendly seats on the carts, she felt that same excitement that Brittany did the previous day.
Anyway, they began to walk up and down the aisles, picking up the usual bits like butter, bread, beer and soda, and that's when things started getting interesting. They came to one particular aisle—the confectionery one—and Santana swore to the heavens that she'd never seen so much chocolate.
Sure, it's not like this was the first time she'd ever gone grocery shopping, but she'd never been to such a domestic one like that one. It was full of couples and children and babies and whoa, Santana saw her future flash before her eyes, and it definitely made her smile idiotically and stomach flip uncontrollably.
So yeah, they were walking down the confectionery aisle and Brittany paused in front of a variety of different chocolate bars, peering over her shoulder at Santana who was lent against the cart with her head hung down a little—grocery shopping was tiring, okay?—and thought of an idea.
Santana had no clue to that and when she felt her wife's presence right beside her, she picked up her head and glanced at her, eyes finding two large bars of chocolate in each of Brittany's hands. Instantly, she was curious. Brittany was never a big chocolate person, so this was pretty strange.
"Got some cravings, Britt?" She joked, nudging her chin down to the confectionery.
"Nope. Idea, actually."
Santana narrowed her eyes, curious. There was that little glint in Brittany's eye that made a perfectly shaped eyebrow raise and the room heat up by like, at least ten degrees. "What's that?"
"Which do you think…" the blonde trailed off, smirking lightly and letting her eyes drift down to the chocolate before back up to meet interested brown eyes. "Would taste better if I licked it off you?"
All the air seemed to disappear from the room and Santana gulped heavily, fingers clenching around the bars of the shopping cart. There was no way in hell she could get a boner here. She was wearing skinny fucking jeans for God's sake! That shit is hard to hide in pants thattight!
"Britt," she managed to get out, voice raspy. Even her damn voice was dripping with arousal. "You can't say shit like that here."
Brittany's eyebrow cocked like she knew exactly what she was doing. "Why, baby? You getting—" she lent in until her lips were brushing a tanned ear. "—Hot for me?"
She pulled back and Santana licked her lips, looking around before pressing their mouths together hard. There were kids and families walking around but she just couldn't help herself. She kissed Brittany hard and fast, stroking her tongue into Brittany's mouth and pulling their bodies together so her wife could feel the effect she had on her by her hip.
They pulled away when they had to, both breathless, wild eyed and quite obviously wanting more. Santana bit down on her lip and lifted her eyebrow, and Brittany glanced between them to see the forming bulge in her wife's crotch, a smirk crossing her face and arousal darkening her eyes.
It was so wrong to be so turned on in such a public place—fuck, they were around freaking children—but it was just so hard not to be. They were both teasing each other and God did Santana just want to dump the shopping, throw Brittany over her shoulder, march back to the car and show her an advantage to having blacked out windows.
But she couldn't, so she just gazed at her wife and thought about exactly what was happening to her physically and how her body was going through the stages of being turned on. That was one of the things Santana loved to learn about Brittany during the early part of their relationship. She studied Brittany, studied her body and her mind and knew exactly how long it'd take for her wife to get worked up and how she got worked up.
How her eyes darkened first, and how her body would shudder if Santana would touch her during that process. How if they were lying down, Brittany's back would push off the bed, hips pressing down and eyes squeezing shut as the arousal flooded through her.
It was one of the most incredible things Santana had ever known, and she remembered how they spent three days in bed together, wrapped up in each other and making love until they weren't physically able to anymore.
She remembered how they would lie completely naked and comfortable next to each other after making love, Santana on her side with her head propped up in her hand and her other hand mapping out every inch of Brittany's skin, her brain taking in everything about her. Every freckle, every scar and every inch of skin would be touched and memorized by Santana's hands, and after she'd completed the map with her hands, she began using her lips to memorize it, too.
And that's how she got here, standing in the middle of a supermarket, thinking about all of that and feeling as those images shot through her mind and down to her groin, making her strain against the inside of her jeans.
She knew she shouldn't be thinking of that but it was just too damn hard. Literally.
But at least she knew that she was having the exact same effect on Brittany. Her wife was standing straight, legs pressed together tighter and thighs pinched even tighter. Her eyes were dark and hooded and her fingers were plucking with the hem of her shirt, barely touching the skin beneath.
They really needed to get out of there.
"Let's pay," Santana blurted, pushing the cart with one hand and grabbing a pale hand with the other, tugging them down to the check outs.
She planned on getting out of their quickly, but because God had some vendetta on her, all the queues were like, a mile long. She groaned and slumped forward, listening to Brittany giggle beside her, a hand rubbing at her back to calm her down. She was frustrated. She just wanted to pay for their groceries, get out of here and possibly drive home to take Brittany, but if not, the empty boot of their car would suffice in a secluded spot.
"Let's just stick to this one," the blonde whispered and Santana pushed the cart to said check out, tapping her foot impatiently.
She knew she needed to keep her mind off the frustration, off Brittany and off the growing bulge in her pants because if she didn't there might be some serious problems occurring in the coming few minutes. So instead she focused on anything around her and ended up staring at some toddlers a few check outs down. One had blonde hair with dark brown eyes, and the child beside it had blue eyes and dark brown hair and Santana smiled at how weird it was to look at them. She and Brittany could easily be their parents.
The thought created this weird tingling low in her stomach and she shifted her weight onto the opposite leg, tilting her head to the side to just watch these kids. Admittedly it was a little creepy, but she was just thinking about how incredible it'd be if her and Brittany's children came out looking like that. Both had a little something of their parents.
Then that idea started to develop and she began to bite on her lip, shifting her gaze to who she assumed to be the parents standing there. The father—she assumed he was the father—was tall, had broad shoulders and dark brown eyes. His hair was a dark brown too, it was little shaggy on top like he'd just rolled out of bed, and he had a five o'clock stubble. Not really surprising considering the children were young, and probably still required overnight care so that explained his appearance.
And then she looked towards the mother. She had long blonde hair, like Brittany's but it was tied up into a ponytail. Santana smiled, remembering Brittany back in high school when she was on the Cheerios and thought about all those times she perved on her best friend 'cause that uniform looked really good on her. Her eyes were a greeny blue, but she was nothing compared to Brittany. She was alright for a mom, Santana guessed, but God, she couldn't help but think how hot Brittany would be as a mom.
If they were had a boy, when it grew up, his friends would totally refer to Brittany as a MILF. And as far as Santana was concerned, that was fine with her.
As her eyes focused on this woman, Santana noticed her stomach was protruding a little and stared. This woman was pregnant, for what looked like the third time. Her hand was resting shy of her belly button, but her face was positively glowing with excitement and joy. It made Santana smile and she couldn't help but sigh and imagine Brittany standing there like that, hand on her stomach, keeping contact with their unborn baby. Maybe some time in the future they could be where that couple were standing, with someone staring at them thinking about their future.
In front of her the line moved and she shuffled down, unable to keep her eyes off this woman and her mind from thinking it was Brittany. Her stomach fluttered thinking about it and she was so focused on the pregnant blonde that she didn't realize her own blonde was trying to get her attention until a sharp pinch was delivered to her bicep. She whipped around instantly, eyes flitting to Brittany to find angered blue ones glaring straight back at her.
"What the hell, Britt?" She demanded, releasing the shopping cart and using her free hand to rub the spot Brittany pinched. "What was that for?"
"Are you serious?" Brittany muttered, lowly, her eyes dark and hard.
"Well, yeah," Santana said, dumbly. "You just fucking pinched me for no reason!"
She felt a little childish saying it but so what? There was no reason for that.
"Oh, so I'm the bad guy, now?"
"How am I the bad guy?"
Brittany's features dropped and her blue eyes began to gloss. Her arms crossed over her chest and she looked away, shaking her head. And Santana hated that when they fought, Brittany never shouted. She never got really pissed off to the point where she would just yell and scream what she really meant, instead she'd shrink down and shrivel up and it'd made Santana feel like the worst person in the world because she was the complete opposite. She would yell and screech and lash out, and most of the time she even ended up screaming in Spanish since anger was like a trigger to her Puerto Rican routes.
Which usually wouldn't be so bad, but with her standing in the middle of a supermarket with an almost crying wife, it made her look like a horrible person. Everyone would immediately jump to the conclusion that she did something wrong and yet she didn't do a thing. Brittany was the one that pinched her and started this not-really-an-argument argument, but of course it wouldn't look like that.
Just thinking that made the anger double within her.
"Well?" She said, raising both eyebrows expectantly. It came out more like a hiss and she regretted it the second it left her lips.
Brittany huffed out angrily and looked back at her. Her mouth dropped open to say it but it snapped shut just as quickly and Santana didn't even have time to make a scathing remark about how she obviously couldn't be the 'bad guy' if Brittany couldn't give her a reason, but Brittany was also marching away from her, arms folded over her chest and legs leading her straight out the store.
And Santana just watched her go.
What the fuck happened?
//
Everyone stares at her as she shoves a hundred dollars at the cashier and pushes the cart away from the checkout. Somehow her items are all packed and she guesses a packing boy did it or something but isn't in the right mindset to care or think about it. So she just moves quickly and swiftly leaves the store.
Her legs move a mile a second as she rushes through the parking lot, cursing beneath her breath when there's no sign of Brittany. Her hands release the cart and she whips her head from side to side, eyes searching the lot for her wife, but she can't see her wife anywhere, so she grabs the car keys out her pocket and opens the car, shoving all her groceries inside the car and jumping into the drivers seat.
She does a few circles of the parking lot, wondering where Brittany is but after the fourth she gives up, slams her fist against the steering wheel and drives home.
Brittany's casually sitting on the sofa when Santana gets home, legs pulled to her chest and chin resting on her knees. There's tears in her eyes and evidence of tried ones on her cheek, but Santana doesn't really focus on that as she barges through the door carrying like, a million bags and drops them, ignoring the pain in her fingers from where the handles were cutting off her blood circulation.
She's barely thrown her keys across the room when the words spill from her mouth, angered and loud. "What the fuck, Britt!?"
Brittany flinches and looks at her. "Don't yell at me, Santana," she grumbles.
"I think I have the right fucking to—" she moves with her words, rounding the sofa and standing in front of Brittany—"after you leave me in the fucking supermarket in front of thousands of judgmental couples, not knowing what the hell happened to my wife who just stormed out the damn store and made me look like the world's shittiest wife!"
"I hardly think it was thousands," Brittany retorts, glaring at her.
Santana squints. "Britt, that's so not the point."
"Well it seems that's the only thing you care about," the blonde replies, pushing up from the sofa and heading towards the kitchen.
"You know that's bullshit, B. You know how much I care about you but I don't know what the hell happened back there!" She follows her wife into the kitchen and stops by the counter, cocking her hip against the side and crossing her arms over her chest. "One minute we're fine and rushing to get home, and the next you're pinching me and storming out the damn store!"
"Because you were staring at another woman!" bursts from Brittany's mouth as she spins around, eyes wide and wild.
It goes silent and Santana would say something but she doesn't seem capable of forming any words. Her mouth drops and she begins moving it to see if anything comes out, but instead she just ends up looking like a gawping fish as she stares at her wife. All the anger seeps from her body and her arms drop by her side. She goes still as she processes the words, just staring.
"Wh-what?" comes out as a stutter and she tilts her head slightly, eyes squinting.
"You were staring at that blonde woman a few checkouts down," Brittany utters, her voice small but body even smaller as she twists and ducks her head.
Santana thinks back to earlier. Thinks back to the store and how she had to take her mind off what she and Brittany were planning on doing what they got home by staring at something else; which just happened to be a pregnant blonde woman. And she almost says that. Almost comes out with it but then she realizes what she would reveal and the words vanish from the tip of her tongue. So instead she has to settle with a different answer.
"I wasn't checking her out," she tells her wife. It's the truth after all.
"Yes, you were," Brittany says. "I saw you and I know it's unrealistic to think that you don't check out other women because you have me but you didn't have to do it in front of me. You didn't have to stare and get so caught up in it that I had to pinch you to break you from it."
Santana blinks as she listens to Brittany's voice, and how it gets angrier but weirdly softer the more she goes on. "No, Britt, I really wasn't checking her out."
"Stop lying," her blonde hisses and straightens up, her jaw clenching.
"I'm not lying!"
"You are!"
Anger pulsates through Santana and she shuts her eyes before she can say red. She doesn't know how she can defend herself without spilling the truth about why she was staring. And her mind's racing so hard to try and find another way out that it sort of just gives out and fizzles, like a computer does, but instead of shutting down and cutting out, the truth just pours out.
"I was staring at her because she was pregnant!" She grits out, opening her eyes and staring, infuriated at her wife. "I was fucking staring at her because I was imagining how incredible it would be for you to be having my baby, Britt."
Brittany's eyebrows shoot up and her body language changes complete. Relaxes, almost.
"I was thinking about how amazing it would be to look at you and your stomach and just know that there was a piece of us growing inside you," Santana's voice begins to lower and she takes a step towards her wife, fingers toying in front of her stomach. "I was thinking about how awesome it'd be to press my hands against your stomach and feel her, or him, and to know that we were starting a family."
Sudden realization flashes across the blondes face and she ducks her chin to her chest, her eyes flicking up every now almost nervously as silence settles around them. "You weren't checking her out then?"
"No, baby," Santana chuckles lightly, reaching forward to rest both hands on Brittany's hips. "You're the only woman I'm ever going to check out, and it's not unrealistic because I really do only have eyes for you."
Pink lips pinch up at the side to hide a smile and Santana knows she's broken the tense atmosphere around them. She shuffles forward, their feet bumping as she leans forward to press a kiss to Brittany's forehead, coaxing her into looking up. Once she does, and their eyes meet, Santana lifts an eyebrow and offers a questioning grin, her thumbs rubbing circles over the blondes hipbones.
"You want to start a family with me?"
Santana nods. "I do, Britt, and when I saw that woman, all I could imagine was me and you standing there, buying nappies and baby food and whatever the hell babies need," she smiles and Brittany giggles. "And it makes me want that moment to be now."
Blue eyes widen and Brittany's face drops, fear flashing across her face.
"But I know we're not there yet," Santana continues before her wife can freak out." I mean, we've just got married, but I can't wait to have a baby with you." She bumps their noses together and stares deeply into blue eyes, feeling pale hands come up to rest on her collarbones. "It's everything I didn't want when I was with Sophie, but it's everything I want now I'm with you, and that just reinforces the idea that we're meant to be."
Brittany bites down on her bottom lip and looks up through long lashes, blinking through a smile.
"I'm not saying we should have children now, Britt, and it probably won't be for a few years from now before we even consider it but—" she licks her lips and inhales deeply. "I want it, and I'm sorry if I'm freaking you out but I just want you to know that," she shrugs. "That I want to have babies with you someday. I want a family with you and only you."
The smile on Brittany's face grows, but she tries to hide it by pressing her lips together. Doesn't work though, and Santana chuckles lightly as a pale hand comes up to twist through the ends of her dark hair, playing with it.
"Yeah?" Brittany whispers, asking for reassurance even though she obviously knows Santana's serious.
Santana squashes their noses together and leans forward, their lips brushing softly, barely. "Yeah, baby," she whispers into her wife's mouth a second before Brittany brings their mouths back together harder this time, her fingers winding through Santana's hair and tangling there, securing their faces and the kiss.
They kiss slow and deep, and Santana feels blood rush through her and down to her groin as she walks her wife backwards out the kitchen and through to the bedroom, giggling as she tries to kick off her shoes whilst kissing. Brittany pulls back and Santana groans as she has to pull away to look at her feet, and once the shoes are off, the blonde grabs a fistful of her shirt, spins her and pushes her down onto the bed, grinning as she shimmies out her skirt and strips herself of her top.
"How many?" Brittany asks, crawling up the bed and throwing a leg either side of Santana's hips to straddle her.
Santana grins and rests her hands on bare thighs, stroking the soft skin beneath her palms. "As many as you want."
Brittany falls forward, holding herself up with both hands either side of dark hair, her own blonde hair falling down around them. "Really?" She asks, smiling and leaning down to suck at Santana's top lip, fingers raking through Santana's hair as the kiss deepens.
"Mmhmm," Santana hums into her wife's mouth arousal shooting through her as her hands move to glide up and over Brittany's ribs, but a pout crosses her face as the blonde breaks the kiss and pulls back a little. "What?"
"We could totally have loads of them and become the modern day von Trapp family."
Santana giggles and shakes her head, one hand pushing back Brittany's hair. "I'll teach them to sing and you can teach them to dance," she says, knowing she's indulging Brittany and rolling her eyes at herself because of it. Honestly, though, she wouldn't even mind if what she were saying was true.
Brittany stares down at her, her expression lighting up with happiness. "Awesome," she breathes.
Santana doesn't really know where this leaves them but Brittany's already bringing their mouths back together and all thoughts of babies and the future shoot out her mind for the rest of the night.
It's actually so quick that when Santana watches Brittany storm out the store, red in the face and blue eyes full of tears, she just stands there, looking around and wondering what the hell just happened just like the other people around her are. She seriously can't even remember what she did. One moment they were paying for their groceries, and the next Brittany's shaking her head at Santana and marching out the damn store.
Fuck.
They were only buying fucking groceries.
//
After one particular discussion about how they wanted to try out everything that couples could do together, whether it was cheesy or not, they landed on going grocery shopping together.
For some reason it made Brittany excited and so the next day, they went shopping just outside of the city, parking their brand new black Range Rover in the parking lot of the superstore and walked hand in hand up to the little alcove that contained all the shopping carts to grab one, before entering the store.
And Santana admits, as they walked through the automatic doors and saw like, a million other couples shopping, some with kids strapped into the kiddy-friendly seats on the carts, she felt that same excitement that Brittany did the previous day.
Anyway, they began to walk up and down the aisles, picking up the usual bits like butter, bread, beer and soda, and that's when things started getting interesting. They came to one particular aisle—the confectionery one—and Santana swore to the heavens that she'd never seen so much chocolate.
Sure, it's not like this was the first time she'd ever gone grocery shopping, but she'd never been to such a domestic one like that one. It was full of couples and children and babies and whoa, Santana saw her future flash before her eyes, and it definitely made her smile idiotically and stomach flip uncontrollably.
So yeah, they were walking down the confectionery aisle and Brittany paused in front of a variety of different chocolate bars, peering over her shoulder at Santana who was lent against the cart with her head hung down a little—grocery shopping was tiring, okay?—and thought of an idea.
Santana had no clue to that and when she felt her wife's presence right beside her, she picked up her head and glanced at her, eyes finding two large bars of chocolate in each of Brittany's hands. Instantly, she was curious. Brittany was never a big chocolate person, so this was pretty strange.
"Got some cravings, Britt?" She joked, nudging her chin down to the confectionery.
"Nope. Idea, actually."
Santana narrowed her eyes, curious. There was that little glint in Brittany's eye that made a perfectly shaped eyebrow raise and the room heat up by like, at least ten degrees. "What's that?"
"Which do you think…" the blonde trailed off, smirking lightly and letting her eyes drift down to the chocolate before back up to meet interested brown eyes. "Would taste better if I licked it off you?"
All the air seemed to disappear from the room and Santana gulped heavily, fingers clenching around the bars of the shopping cart. There was no way in hell she could get a boner here. She was wearing skinny fucking jeans for God's sake! That shit is hard to hide in pants thattight!
"Britt," she managed to get out, voice raspy. Even her damn voice was dripping with arousal. "You can't say shit like that here."
Brittany's eyebrow cocked like she knew exactly what she was doing. "Why, baby? You getting—" she lent in until her lips were brushing a tanned ear. "—Hot for me?"
She pulled back and Santana licked her lips, looking around before pressing their mouths together hard. There were kids and families walking around but she just couldn't help herself. She kissed Brittany hard and fast, stroking her tongue into Brittany's mouth and pulling their bodies together so her wife could feel the effect she had on her by her hip.
They pulled away when they had to, both breathless, wild eyed and quite obviously wanting more. Santana bit down on her lip and lifted her eyebrow, and Brittany glanced between them to see the forming bulge in her wife's crotch, a smirk crossing her face and arousal darkening her eyes.
It was so wrong to be so turned on in such a public place—fuck, they were around freaking children—but it was just so hard not to be. They were both teasing each other and God did Santana just want to dump the shopping, throw Brittany over her shoulder, march back to the car and show her an advantage to having blacked out windows.
But she couldn't, so she just gazed at her wife and thought about exactly what was happening to her physically and how her body was going through the stages of being turned on. That was one of the things Santana loved to learn about Brittany during the early part of their relationship. She studied Brittany, studied her body and her mind and knew exactly how long it'd take for her wife to get worked up and how she got worked up.
How her eyes darkened first, and how her body would shudder if Santana would touch her during that process. How if they were lying down, Brittany's back would push off the bed, hips pressing down and eyes squeezing shut as the arousal flooded through her.
It was one of the most incredible things Santana had ever known, and she remembered how they spent three days in bed together, wrapped up in each other and making love until they weren't physically able to anymore.
She remembered how they would lie completely naked and comfortable next to each other after making love, Santana on her side with her head propped up in her hand and her other hand mapping out every inch of Brittany's skin, her brain taking in everything about her. Every freckle, every scar and every inch of skin would be touched and memorized by Santana's hands, and after she'd completed the map with her hands, she began using her lips to memorize it, too.
And that's how she got here, standing in the middle of a supermarket, thinking about all of that and feeling as those images shot through her mind and down to her groin, making her strain against the inside of her jeans.
She knew she shouldn't be thinking of that but it was just too damn hard. Literally.
But at least she knew that she was having the exact same effect on Brittany. Her wife was standing straight, legs pressed together tighter and thighs pinched even tighter. Her eyes were dark and hooded and her fingers were plucking with the hem of her shirt, barely touching the skin beneath.
They really needed to get out of there.
"Let's pay," Santana blurted, pushing the cart with one hand and grabbing a pale hand with the other, tugging them down to the check outs.
She planned on getting out of their quickly, but because God had some vendetta on her, all the queues were like, a mile long. She groaned and slumped forward, listening to Brittany giggle beside her, a hand rubbing at her back to calm her down. She was frustrated. She just wanted to pay for their groceries, get out of here and possibly drive home to take Brittany, but if not, the empty boot of their car would suffice in a secluded spot.
"Let's just stick to this one," the blonde whispered and Santana pushed the cart to said check out, tapping her foot impatiently.
She knew she needed to keep her mind off the frustration, off Brittany and off the growing bulge in her pants because if she didn't there might be some serious problems occurring in the coming few minutes. So instead she focused on anything around her and ended up staring at some toddlers a few check outs down. One had blonde hair with dark brown eyes, and the child beside it had blue eyes and dark brown hair and Santana smiled at how weird it was to look at them. She and Brittany could easily be their parents.
The thought created this weird tingling low in her stomach and she shifted her weight onto the opposite leg, tilting her head to the side to just watch these kids. Admittedly it was a little creepy, but she was just thinking about how incredible it'd be if her and Brittany's children came out looking like that. Both had a little something of their parents.
Then that idea started to develop and she began to bite on her lip, shifting her gaze to who she assumed to be the parents standing there. The father—she assumed he was the father—was tall, had broad shoulders and dark brown eyes. His hair was a dark brown too, it was little shaggy on top like he'd just rolled out of bed, and he had a five o'clock stubble. Not really surprising considering the children were young, and probably still required overnight care so that explained his appearance.
And then she looked towards the mother. She had long blonde hair, like Brittany's but it was tied up into a ponytail. Santana smiled, remembering Brittany back in high school when she was on the Cheerios and thought about all those times she perved on her best friend 'cause that uniform looked really good on her. Her eyes were a greeny blue, but she was nothing compared to Brittany. She was alright for a mom, Santana guessed, but God, she couldn't help but think how hot Brittany would be as a mom.
If they were had a boy, when it grew up, his friends would totally refer to Brittany as a MILF. And as far as Santana was concerned, that was fine with her.
As her eyes focused on this woman, Santana noticed her stomach was protruding a little and stared. This woman was pregnant, for what looked like the third time. Her hand was resting shy of her belly button, but her face was positively glowing with excitement and joy. It made Santana smile and she couldn't help but sigh and imagine Brittany standing there like that, hand on her stomach, keeping contact with their unborn baby. Maybe some time in the future they could be where that couple were standing, with someone staring at them thinking about their future.
In front of her the line moved and she shuffled down, unable to keep her eyes off this woman and her mind from thinking it was Brittany. Her stomach fluttered thinking about it and she was so focused on the pregnant blonde that she didn't realize her own blonde was trying to get her attention until a sharp pinch was delivered to her bicep. She whipped around instantly, eyes flitting to Brittany to find angered blue ones glaring straight back at her.
"What the hell, Britt?" She demanded, releasing the shopping cart and using her free hand to rub the spot Brittany pinched. "What was that for?"
"Are you serious?" Brittany muttered, lowly, her eyes dark and hard.
"Well, yeah," Santana said, dumbly. "You just fucking pinched me for no reason!"
She felt a little childish saying it but so what? There was no reason for that.
"Oh, so I'm the bad guy, now?"
"How am I the bad guy?"
Brittany's features dropped and her blue eyes began to gloss. Her arms crossed over her chest and she looked away, shaking her head. And Santana hated that when they fought, Brittany never shouted. She never got really pissed off to the point where she would just yell and scream what she really meant, instead she'd shrink down and shrivel up and it'd made Santana feel like the worst person in the world because she was the complete opposite. She would yell and screech and lash out, and most of the time she even ended up screaming in Spanish since anger was like a trigger to her Puerto Rican routes.
Which usually wouldn't be so bad, but with her standing in the middle of a supermarket with an almost crying wife, it made her look like a horrible person. Everyone would immediately jump to the conclusion that she did something wrong and yet she didn't do a thing. Brittany was the one that pinched her and started this not-really-an-argument argument, but of course it wouldn't look like that.
Just thinking that made the anger double within her.
"Well?" She said, raising both eyebrows expectantly. It came out more like a hiss and she regretted it the second it left her lips.
Brittany huffed out angrily and looked back at her. Her mouth dropped open to say it but it snapped shut just as quickly and Santana didn't even have time to make a scathing remark about how she obviously couldn't be the 'bad guy' if Brittany couldn't give her a reason, but Brittany was also marching away from her, arms folded over her chest and legs leading her straight out the store.
And Santana just watched her go.
What the fuck happened?
//
Everyone stares at her as she shoves a hundred dollars at the cashier and pushes the cart away from the checkout. Somehow her items are all packed and she guesses a packing boy did it or something but isn't in the right mindset to care or think about it. So she just moves quickly and swiftly leaves the store.
Her legs move a mile a second as she rushes through the parking lot, cursing beneath her breath when there's no sign of Brittany. Her hands release the cart and she whips her head from side to side, eyes searching the lot for her wife, but she can't see her wife anywhere, so she grabs the car keys out her pocket and opens the car, shoving all her groceries inside the car and jumping into the drivers seat.
She does a few circles of the parking lot, wondering where Brittany is but after the fourth she gives up, slams her fist against the steering wheel and drives home.
Brittany's casually sitting on the sofa when Santana gets home, legs pulled to her chest and chin resting on her knees. There's tears in her eyes and evidence of tried ones on her cheek, but Santana doesn't really focus on that as she barges through the door carrying like, a million bags and drops them, ignoring the pain in her fingers from where the handles were cutting off her blood circulation.
She's barely thrown her keys across the room when the words spill from her mouth, angered and loud. "What the fuck, Britt!?"
Brittany flinches and looks at her. "Don't yell at me, Santana," she grumbles.
"I think I have the right fucking to—" she moves with her words, rounding the sofa and standing in front of Brittany—"after you leave me in the fucking supermarket in front of thousands of judgmental couples, not knowing what the hell happened to my wife who just stormed out the damn store and made me look like the world's shittiest wife!"
"I hardly think it was thousands," Brittany retorts, glaring at her.
Santana squints. "Britt, that's so not the point."
"Well it seems that's the only thing you care about," the blonde replies, pushing up from the sofa and heading towards the kitchen.
"You know that's bullshit, B. You know how much I care about you but I don't know what the hell happened back there!" She follows her wife into the kitchen and stops by the counter, cocking her hip against the side and crossing her arms over her chest. "One minute we're fine and rushing to get home, and the next you're pinching me and storming out the damn store!"
"Because you were staring at another woman!" bursts from Brittany's mouth as she spins around, eyes wide and wild.
It goes silent and Santana would say something but she doesn't seem capable of forming any words. Her mouth drops and she begins moving it to see if anything comes out, but instead she just ends up looking like a gawping fish as she stares at her wife. All the anger seeps from her body and her arms drop by her side. She goes still as she processes the words, just staring.
"Wh-what?" comes out as a stutter and she tilts her head slightly, eyes squinting.
"You were staring at that blonde woman a few checkouts down," Brittany utters, her voice small but body even smaller as she twists and ducks her head.
Santana thinks back to earlier. Thinks back to the store and how she had to take her mind off what she and Brittany were planning on doing what they got home by staring at something else; which just happened to be a pregnant blonde woman. And she almost says that. Almost comes out with it but then she realizes what she would reveal and the words vanish from the tip of her tongue. So instead she has to settle with a different answer.
"I wasn't checking her out," she tells her wife. It's the truth after all.
"Yes, you were," Brittany says. "I saw you and I know it's unrealistic to think that you don't check out other women because you have me but you didn't have to do it in front of me. You didn't have to stare and get so caught up in it that I had to pinch you to break you from it."
Santana blinks as she listens to Brittany's voice, and how it gets angrier but weirdly softer the more she goes on. "No, Britt, I really wasn't checking her out."
"Stop lying," her blonde hisses and straightens up, her jaw clenching.
"I'm not lying!"
"You are!"
Anger pulsates through Santana and she shuts her eyes before she can say red. She doesn't know how she can defend herself without spilling the truth about why she was staring. And her mind's racing so hard to try and find another way out that it sort of just gives out and fizzles, like a computer does, but instead of shutting down and cutting out, the truth just pours out.
"I was staring at her because she was pregnant!" She grits out, opening her eyes and staring, infuriated at her wife. "I was fucking staring at her because I was imagining how incredible it would be for you to be having my baby, Britt."
Brittany's eyebrows shoot up and her body language changes complete. Relaxes, almost.
"I was thinking about how amazing it would be to look at you and your stomach and just know that there was a piece of us growing inside you," Santana's voice begins to lower and she takes a step towards her wife, fingers toying in front of her stomach. "I was thinking about how awesome it'd be to press my hands against your stomach and feel her, or him, and to know that we were starting a family."
Sudden realization flashes across the blondes face and she ducks her chin to her chest, her eyes flicking up every now almost nervously as silence settles around them. "You weren't checking her out then?"
"No, baby," Santana chuckles lightly, reaching forward to rest both hands on Brittany's hips. "You're the only woman I'm ever going to check out, and it's not unrealistic because I really do only have eyes for you."
Pink lips pinch up at the side to hide a smile and Santana knows she's broken the tense atmosphere around them. She shuffles forward, their feet bumping as she leans forward to press a kiss to Brittany's forehead, coaxing her into looking up. Once she does, and their eyes meet, Santana lifts an eyebrow and offers a questioning grin, her thumbs rubbing circles over the blondes hipbones.
"You want to start a family with me?"
Santana nods. "I do, Britt, and when I saw that woman, all I could imagine was me and you standing there, buying nappies and baby food and whatever the hell babies need," she smiles and Brittany giggles. "And it makes me want that moment to be now."
Blue eyes widen and Brittany's face drops, fear flashing across her face.
"But I know we're not there yet," Santana continues before her wife can freak out." I mean, we've just got married, but I can't wait to have a baby with you." She bumps their noses together and stares deeply into blue eyes, feeling pale hands come up to rest on her collarbones. "It's everything I didn't want when I was with Sophie, but it's everything I want now I'm with you, and that just reinforces the idea that we're meant to be."
Brittany bites down on her bottom lip and looks up through long lashes, blinking through a smile.
"I'm not saying we should have children now, Britt, and it probably won't be for a few years from now before we even consider it but—" she licks her lips and inhales deeply. "I want it, and I'm sorry if I'm freaking you out but I just want you to know that," she shrugs. "That I want to have babies with you someday. I want a family with you and only you."
The smile on Brittany's face grows, but she tries to hide it by pressing her lips together. Doesn't work though, and Santana chuckles lightly as a pale hand comes up to twist through the ends of her dark hair, playing with it.
"Yeah?" Brittany whispers, asking for reassurance even though she obviously knows Santana's serious.
Santana squashes their noses together and leans forward, their lips brushing softly, barely. "Yeah, baby," she whispers into her wife's mouth a second before Brittany brings their mouths back together harder this time, her fingers winding through Santana's hair and tangling there, securing their faces and the kiss.
They kiss slow and deep, and Santana feels blood rush through her and down to her groin as she walks her wife backwards out the kitchen and through to the bedroom, giggling as she tries to kick off her shoes whilst kissing. Brittany pulls back and Santana groans as she has to pull away to look at her feet, and once the shoes are off, the blonde grabs a fistful of her shirt, spins her and pushes her down onto the bed, grinning as she shimmies out her skirt and strips herself of her top.
"How many?" Brittany asks, crawling up the bed and throwing a leg either side of Santana's hips to straddle her.
Santana grins and rests her hands on bare thighs, stroking the soft skin beneath her palms. "As many as you want."
Brittany falls forward, holding herself up with both hands either side of dark hair, her own blonde hair falling down around them. "Really?" She asks, smiling and leaning down to suck at Santana's top lip, fingers raking through Santana's hair as the kiss deepens.
"Mmhmm," Santana hums into her wife's mouth arousal shooting through her as her hands move to glide up and over Brittany's ribs, but a pout crosses her face as the blonde breaks the kiss and pulls back a little. "What?"
"We could totally have loads of them and become the modern day von Trapp family."
Santana giggles and shakes her head, one hand pushing back Brittany's hair. "I'll teach them to sing and you can teach them to dance," she says, knowing she's indulging Brittany and rolling her eyes at herself because of it. Honestly, though, she wouldn't even mind if what she were saying was true.
Brittany stares down at her, her expression lighting up with happiness. "Awesome," she breathes.
Santana doesn't really know where this leaves them but Brittany's already bringing their mouths back together and all thoughts of babies and the future shoot out her mind for the rest of the night.