When The Past and Future Collide
Santana/Brittany, NC-17, 7.1k
Everything's perfect, and nothing can ruin their day. Well, that's what Santana thinks until they run into a certain couple.
Everything's perfect, and nothing can ruin their day. Well, that's what Santana thinks until they run into a certain couple.
It's like any other day in New York city, and they're walking through Central Park, Santana's hand tightly clutched around Brittany's because now that Brittany's pregnant and visibly showing a bump, she just can't seem to keep her hands off her. Whether it's holding her hand, wrapping her arm around her, twisting their arms together or even just touching her, she just has to have some kind of contact. She doesn't feel comfortable without it and Brittany doesn't mind so it's all good.
So yeah, it's like any other normal day for them, and the sun is out, the sky is bright and the grass is green. They both have a day off, they're happy, they're in love and they're having a baby. Everything's perfect, and nothing can ruin their day.
Well, that's what Santana thinks until they run into a certain couple.
Santana notices them first, and stops in her tracks as Sophie laughs and looks around, meeting her gaze. Her entire body stiffens and Brittany stills beside her, feeling the reaction and shooting her a questioning stare. Except Santana is so shocked that her ex-wife and her boyfriend are here―that she and Brittany are that unlucky―that she can't even tear her eyes away from the other couple and just ends up gazing at them. This of course gives a clear indication of her stopping and Brittany sees them a second Sophie and Puck reach them and just stands back, her free hand coming up to rest on her bump.
And that makes Sophie's eyes zoom immediately to Brittany's stomach, locking onto and noting that she's pregnant. Santana, for her part, just continues staring, shocked and confused. Weren't they supposed to be in California?
It's all awkward for at least a minute or two, because no-one knows what to say or how to react so they end up just looking at each other, taking in the subtle physical differences that have occurred over the past few years. Sophie looks so stressed, with faint stress lines forming on her forehead and she looks like she just needs a few good nights sleep. Puck's standing there in scuffed jeans and a leather jacket, and his mohawk is way too long to even look remotely cool (not that it ever was before) and he's got an overgrown stubble that can't quite pass for a respectable beard. He looks like he's been dragged through the relationship dirt and came out the other side tired and worn out.
Santana almost chuckles. Sophie really was hard work and she almost feels poor for Puck, but then she remembers how much of a douche he is and any sympathy she felt vanishes immediately.
“Wow,” is the first word that anyone speaks and of course it's Sophie and she's still staring at Brittany's bump. “You're pregnant.”
Santana bites back a scathing comment about how obvious that is, and instead reaches over with her free hand to lay it on top of a pale one, reassuring Brittany and herself. “Uh, yeah. Twenty weeks,” she gets out, nodding.
Brittany shifts beside her awkwardly and squeezes their still tangled fingers together a little tighter, silently telling her that it's okay. When her eyes return back to Sophie though, she sees dark green eyes narrowed at Brittany, and Brittany's staring straight back, seeming more and more uncomfortable the longer Sophie glares.
“So,” Santana pipes up, wanting to break her ex-wife's glare. “How... have... you two been?” She lands on, nodding to herself. “I thought you were in Cali?”
“We were,” Sophie replies, shifting her weight. “But it wasn't what we were expecting so we moved back here.”
Puck mutters something beneath his breath about “by we you mean you” and Sophie whips her head around to glare at him. Aren't they just a beaming representation of a healthy relationship.
“You two have an apartment here in New York, then?” Santana presses on, knowing it's too early to leave but wanting to get away as quickly as possible. The last thing she wants to do on her day off with her hot, pregnant wife is to speak to two people in her past. They're in her past for a reason and they're sure as hell going to stay there. Santana just needs to come up with a way of getting out of this situation. Fast, preferably.
Brittany squeezes her hand gently and she shakes herself out of her thoughts to look at her wife who looks more than uncomfortable. She pulls her eyebrows together and is about to ask her what's wrong when blue eyes flicker to hers then over towards Puck, and Santana twists her head to face him, finally pulling her stare away from her wife to look towards the guy.
Who looks about two seconds away from needing a napkin for his drool.
Anger flares across Santana's skin and one eyebrow arches, her jaw clenching as she takes a short, aggressive step towards the staring douche. “You looking to lose a few more teeth, Puckerman?” She hisses, narrowing her eyes into a glare.
Puck doesn't seem fazed by her aggression and smirks, his eyes doing another trail over Brittany which just makes the fury scorch through Santana until her fists are visibly shaking by her side.
“Just admiring your girl here, Lopez,” he says like he's not blatantly checking out Brittany. Out the corner of her eye, Santana sees Sophie go a dark shade of red like she's embarrassed by Puck. No wonder why. If Santana were in Sophie's position she'd be embarrassed, too. “Her eggo's preggo and yet she's still smoking hot.” Puck licks his lips and smirks, eyes still roaming over Brittany's body. “She was always a fine piece of ass, though.”
Santana lips curl up into a snarl at the same time she lurches for him, but Brittany must see it before the action is completed because she wraps her fingers around a tanned wrist and tugs Santana back, shooting her that he's not worth it look. And even though she wants to tear Puck a new one, she knows putting any stress on Brittany wouldn't be good in terms of the pregnancy so she stands down, her shoulders relaxing but nostrils still flaring and angered breaths still escaping her lips.
“Seems like you're still on a tight leash,” Puck bites with a dry chuckle. “Was about time someone tied you down.”
Not only does he say it with a smirk, but then he even goes as far to throw a wink to Brittany and Santana sees red and fucking loses it. She flinches and her fist is ready to start flying when Brittany steps in front of her, probably know she couldn't hold her back now and grabs both of her forearms, pinning them to her side as she speaks.
“It was nice seeing you two again, but we've got to go.”
Puck chuckles darkly and Santana's fists begin to shake as her eyes, wide and angered glare at him. She wants to hit him―fuck, she'd do pretty much anything to just kick the shit out of him right now―but Brittany's dragging her away and in front of them Sophie's latching onto Puck's jacket and tugging him away too, and Santana knows she'd have to leave Brittany's side to get to him and she's not going to do that.
So she just lets Brittany pull her away and calms down the second warm lips press to her cheek and the words “I love you” are whispered in her ear.
//
Later that night she's lounging on the sofa in sweats and a hoodie, watching the TV whilst Brittany's in the kitchen when she gets a text. She reaches over to the side table to grab her phone and flips it open, seeing it's from Quinn.
I need a drink. You up for one? - Q
Santana arches her back to see around the wall by the kitchen to find her wife. And her eyes find Brittany standing by the stove, cooking something and her hips are wiggling about to whatever her iPod's playing, and the largest grin spreads across Santana's face. Her wife is just too adorable sometimes. Her phone vibrates in her hand again and she glances down, laughing at what she sees.
Brittany will say yes so meet me at Barney's in 30 – Q
She shakes her head and pushes up from the couch, moving into the kitchen and crossing it to wrap her arms around her wife's waists, her hands falling to the pronounced bump at the same time her lips drop a kiss to the long slope of a pale neck. Brittany leans back into her, smiling and continuing to wiggle her hips as the song dies down in the docking station.
“Hey, baby,” Brittany says as turns her face to peck a tanned cheek.
Santana hums and peers over her wife's shoulder at the pan sitting on the stove. There's a weird looking pancake cooking, and what looks like Oreos and chips there too. She chuckles. “You got a craving, Britt Britt?”
“I wanted some pancakes, but then I wanted Oreos and chips, too,” the blonde explains, shrugging. “So I thought I'd put them all together 'cause I can't eat three things at once otherwise.”
Santana feels her body shake against Brittany's as she laughs, and slips her hands beneath her wife's top to touch the warm skin low on a pale belly. “This baby is making you eat crazy things,” she mutters, lips pressing to the smooth skin of a shoulder.
“It is,” Brittany agrees and flicks off the stove, twisting and throwing her arms over Santana's shoulders, her bump pressing into Santana's abs as tanned hands settle on her hips. “Hey,” she whispers, properly greeting Santana by kissing her softly, slowly, before tipping their foreheads together. “And yes, you can go out for drinks.”
Santana's head jerks back, eyebrows scrunched together. “How did you―”
“Rachel just text me to ask if she could come over. Her and Quinn had a fight, so I'm guessing she text you.”
She laughs and kisses Brittany again. “Yeah. Are you sure? I don't mind―”
“I'll be fine, San,” the blonde says, pecking her nose and twisting around to the stove once more. “You don't have to worry about me or ickle baby. We'll be fine.”
Santana scrunches her nose up because Brittany's just so damn cute and leans around her, kissing her on the corner of her the mouth and whispering “thank you” before skipping off to the bedroom to change.
//
She gets to Barney's early. She heads towards the bar and slides into one of the stools, smiling at Barney who comes over to her, throwing the rag he always seems to have over his shoulder like bartenders do in the movies.
“Haven't seen you in a while. What can I get you?”
She flashes a smile and nods, her eyes roaming around the bar. “Corona, please.”
Barney nods, knowing by her drink that she's only meeting a friend and reaches into the fridge, taking out a bottle and cracking it open before sliding it down the bar to her. She catches it in her left hand and lifts it, silently thanking him before taking a long pull. Her eyes shut as the liquid slides down and settles into her stomach. She hasn't drunk for a while now, not since Brittany got pregnant. Not fair if she can drink but her wife can't so she just stopped.
Barely a minute later and a hand presses to her back, a little too low for comfort. She spins around, ready to make a remark about Quinn hitting on her when she finds a completely different set of green eyes staring back at her. Her whole body stiffens and fingers go rigid around the beer bottle, the only words coming from her mouth being, “You're not Quinn.”
Sophie chuckles and slides into the stool beside her, martini glass slipping onto the bar top beside Santana's beer. “Not as far as I'm aware,” she replies, looking Santana up and down, but Santana just looks away, hoping that Barney would come over here right now. That would be awesome. “I thought it was you when you came in.”
“Yep,” she says, a little offhandedly, not wanting to be caught speaking to her ex-wife 'cause how bad does that look? Her eyes flicker around but she sees no outing unless Quinn walks through the door right now and realizes that she's actually going to have to talk to Sophie. Shit. “Just waiting for Quinn.”
Sophie nods but makes no move to leave. Double shit. “Great. So, how are you? We didn't manage to catch up the other day.”
“I'm good,” Santana takes a sip of her beer and bobs her head, seeing the expectant look on the other girl's face. For fuck sake, she's not rude. She has to ask how Sophie is too. “And you?”
“I can see you're doing well. You're still as beautiful as ever,” Sophie smirks, her green eyes drifting down Santana's body. Santana just shudders and bites back a grimace. “And I'm okay, but I think I'm going to break up with Noah.”
“That sucks.”
Not picking up on the lack of disinterest in this whole conversation, Sophie shifts forward and crosses one leg over the other. The dress donning her body is short and doesn't leave much to the imagination, but Santana has zero interest. She doesn't even find Sophie remotely attractive. An ugly personality ruins a pretty face.
“Yeah... I think―” Sophie swallows and licks her lips, finger running around the rim of her glass. “I think I made a mistake.” Her eyes flit to Santana and Santana stills. “With him, I mean.”
Santana holds back the breath of relief. “Oh, yeah?”
“Definitely.”
Sophie shuffles to the very edge of her seat, her knees bumping Santana's and slipping between her legs. Seriously, she might as well be on Santana's fucking lap right now. Her hand slips down from her glass and fingers crawl towards the bottle, the pads just brushing over Santana's pinky near the bottom of the bottle. Santana doesn't jerk back, too focused on not scoffing at her ex-wife in disgust.
“I made a lot of mistakes,” Sophie whispers, biting her lip and looking up at the other girl.
And Santana's head reels back, knowing exactly what her ex-wife is suggesting. She narrows her eyes and clenches her jaw, teeth grinding together. Is Sophie serious right now? Her mouth pops open to ask the other girl that exact same question but then Quinn's stepping up to their sides and raising both eyebrows, hazel eyes flitting between them.
“Well, what do we have here?” The blonde says, eying up Sophie in disgust. Only Santana can see the disgust in her expression though.
“Quinn, you remember Sophie, right?” Santana says, realizing how close she and her ex-wife were and shuffles away, clearing her throat.
“I do,” Quinn directs towards Santana with a hard, what are you doing? expression. She then turns to Sophie and flashes a too-sweet smile. “Hi, Sophie,” she draws out, showing her disapproval through her tone.
Sophie sees it and her eyes flicker away, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. And Santana bites back a smile, knowing how intimidating Quinn can be at times and just lowers her head, nails picking at the label of her beer. There's a little awkward silence before someone clears their throat and she peers up to find Sophie standing now, smoothing down her dress and shooting a smile to Santana.
“I should be going,” she says. “Bye, Santana.”
Santana sucks in her lips and raises her chin a little instead of speaking and her ex-wife walks away. But then a sharp smack is delivered to the side of her head and she whips her head around, eyes narrowing into a glare at her friend who's taking Sophie's seat as she rubs her head. “What the fuck, Fabray?”
“So you're buddy-buddy with your ex-wife now?”
“She was here when I walked in and came up to me.”
“And you didn't tell her to go away?”
Santana rolls her eyes, taking a long pull of her beer. “I didn't want to be rude.”
“What did she say then?” Quinn points down to Santana's beer when Barney looks around and nods.
“Nothing of much interest,” Santana answers truthfully. “She just asked how I was and told me she was going to break up with Puckerman.” Quinn throws her a look and she lifts both eyebrows in her direction. “What?”
“Your ex-wife conveniently comes to the same bar that you've been coming to for years, conveniently runs into you and then tells you that she's breaking up with her boyfriend?” Santana just stares, blankly. “Seriously, Lopez? Does none of that seem a bit odd?”
Even though she shrugs, Santana has to admit, yeah, it does seem odd.
“Are you going to tell Britt you saw her?”
“No,” the answer is immediately and Santana just takes another sip of beer.
“Santana!”
She flinches twists to her friend, getting a little fed up of this ear-bashing. “Look, Q, I don't see why I should have to tell Britt. It'll just put more stress her, which means more stress on the baby and fuck, you know what her hormones are like. They're all over the place.” She lifts her shoulders like it'll help her point. “It'll just be an unnecessary argument.”
Quinn's eyes widen and she stares shocked at Santana, but she can see she's completely serious and just lets out a loud exhale, grabbing the beer that Barney slides over to her and taking a long sip of it. “It's a mistake,” she says, hushed and mostly into the bottle.
Santana shrugs. “I'm just thinking of Britt.”
“I just hope you're right.”
Santana just keeps drinking.
//
Part 2
A few nights later she's coming back from work and stops by Mr Chow's to pick up dinner.
And guess who she runs into.
She's barely got her foot in the store when someone calls her name and she lifts her head to find Sophie leaning against the counter, Chinese menu in hand and a smile on her face. Santana almost rolls her eyes and steps back outside to look to the heavens and ask God why he has this vendetta on her, but instead forces a smile and joins her by the counter. The sooner she collects her order, the sooner she can get out of here.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Sophie draws, that twinkle in her eyes that was there the first night they met, and consequently, slept together.
Santana bobs her head and peers over the counter to find one of the workers, but they're in the kitchen apparently. Fuck.
“Well this is my local Chinese,” she says in reply, still looking for someone to give her her order. Can't they just hurry up or something?
“Good to see something things don't change,” comes from beside her softly and she turns to look at her ex-wife, trying to figure out what that meant. But truthfully she doesn't care so she lets her eyes drift away again, showing just that. Luckily a little Chinese woman comes out just at that moment, and Santana tells her the order she rang up about ten minutes ago and the woman disappears quickly, returning with a bag full of food and a smile on her face as Santana hands her a twenty dollar bill, telling her to keep the change.
Santana turns to walk out when she sees Sophie right in front of her, staring at her. She gulps. “I've gotta get going now. Home,” she says, bobbing her head. “To my wife.” She makes a point to say Brittany's her wife but Sophie doesn't stop staring. “Because Britt's coming home from a doctor's appointment as she's pregnant, and she's got one hell of an appetite now.”
Sophie seems completely oblivious to the hints Santana's dropping in and tilts her head, smiling. She reaches forward just as Santana twists, and rubs her arm gently. “Bye. I'll see you around,” she squeezes Santana's arm and flutters her lashes, something that always used to make Santana weak at the knees but now makes her want to hurl.
Santana forces a smile and walks out the store.
//
She barely manages to set the Chinese down on the coffee table before there's a knock at the door. Her back instantly straightens and she whips her head around, wondering who's at the door. But then she relaxes, eyebrows and shoulders lowering as she figures Brittany must have forgotten her keys again. This pregnancy is making her do that quite a lot, actually, probably since she's focused on other things.
Except when she opens the door, she doesn't find Brittany there.
“Sophie?”
Sophie stares up at her, hands nervously wringing in front of her. “Hey.”
Santana's eyes flicker down the street. “Did you follow me home?” She asks, knowing it's the only way Sophie would know where she lived.
“Yes, but I had to,” Sophie says, stepping over the threshold of the house and forcing Santana to take a step back. “I need to tell you something.”
The sentences “Brittany will be home soon” and “I don't want you here” balance on the end of Santana's tongue but Sophie speaks before they can even come out.
“I made a mistake with Puck,” she announces, eyes glistening with honesty as her hands reach for Santana. “I should have never cheated on you.”
Santana shakes her head, eyes narrowing as she moves away from the touch. Why is Sophie telling her this? She doesn't give a damn. “Sophie...”
“I'm still in love with you and I want you back,” her ex-wife says. “I'll do anything, Santana. Please.”
She's begging, Santana can tell but there's nothing inside of her that's even feeling remotely bad. She doesn't care. She has Brittany. She's in love with Brittany and they're having a baby together and she and Sophie are never going to happen again. There's no way in hell it will and she wants to say that. She wants to tell Sophie she has no chance but the words just don't seem to go from her brain to her mouth and she ends up just staring blankly.
But then the physical barrier is broken and Sophie's cupping Santana's cheek, spurring her into action and slapping away the hand against her skin.
“No, Sophie,” she hisses, not quite believing that this is actually happen. “It's not gonna happen.”
Sophie's never been one to give up though and moves closer to Santana, pleading with tear filled eyes and a quivering lower lip. “Please, Santana. You have to. I love you.” Santana almost laughs but doesn't and ends up shaking her head. “I know you loved me, so you can again. It was me before her. Remember that.”
Until now, the only thing Santana felt was slight sympathy because Sophie just looked so damn pathetic, coming to her door―her and her wife's door―and pleading for her to take her back, but now she's just pissed. Pissed because Sophie not only comes to Santana and Brittany's house, but she declares her love that apparently still exists, asks her to take her back and then reminds her that she made the mistake of choosing Sophie over Brittany way back. Anger flares through her and her expression contorts with disgust. How fucking dare Sophie do any of that?
“No, you don't understand, Sophie,” Santana bites, heat bubbling up her throat. “I love Brittany. She's my soulmate and the only woman I've ever truly loved. I don't want you, Sophie. I don't love you.”
It's harsh, and mean, but it's the truth and Santana knows Sophie won't settle for anything other than that. She wouldn't accept anything but that. And luckily, Sophie doesn't respond or try to convince her with any other declarations, just bites down on her lower lip and shrinks down, in the way she always used to do when she wanted to make Santana feel bad. But it won't work, not this time.
Except apparently she knows that, because the next thing Santana's aware of, lips, cold and chapped are pressing against hers and Sophie's clutching at her face, kissing her as hard as she can. It takes a second or two to register what the fuck's going on but when Santana does, the anger that was flaring over her skin explodes and it feels like she's on fire as she snaps into action and goes to shove Sophie off her.
But Sophie's already being yanked back and is letting out a small yelp in Santana's face, one of her hands grabbing at something behind her. And as Santana opens her eyes, she realizes what's pulling Sophie back: Brittany.
“What the hell do you think you're doing!?” Brittany screeches, eyes wide and pissed as she lets go of Sophie's collar and allows her to fall to the floor.
Sophie hits the floor hard, her body clunking against the wood and she winces visibly as Brittany gravitates to stand in front of Santana. But slowly, the girl on the floor pushes up with quaking arms and picks herself up, dusting down her jeans and baring her teeth at the blonde. “Before you came back,” Sophie starts in a low hiss, eyes narrowing at hardening as they lock onto Brittany. “I was what she wanted.”
A smirk comes onto Brittany's face, but she's still pissed off. Her arms are shaking by her side and Santana raises both eyebrows as she takes in the state of her wife. She really is trying not to find angry and possessive Brittany hot but fuck, it really is a turn on.
“But you're not now, are you?” The blonde spits, cocking her hip out to the side and lifting an eyebrow. “So get the hell away from my wife.”
“I was still there before you, and I always will have been,” Sophie's eyes flash to Santana, lingering a little too long. Brittany sees it and Santana grabs her wife before she lurches and smacks Sophie. With the hormones the pregnancy is bringing, Santana really wouldn't put it past her wife to do some serious damage. “No matter what you do, I will have been there first and I want her back, so I'm going to do everything in order for that to happen.”
Brittany doesn't start yelling in the way Santana thought she would, instead she takes a daunting step forward and towers over Sophie. “You're wrong. I was always there. Maybe we didn't realize it but it was us way before you two, but it still counts.” Santana bites back the smirk at the sound of her wife like this. It's really fucking hot. “So if you think you have another chance you really are stupider than you look.”
Sophie doesn't seem fazed by the height difference and lifts her chin, shoulders squaring. “She'll take me back.”
Santana scoffs and know she has to cut in. This is just fucking stupid. “I'm not going to take you back, Sophie,” she says, stepping closer to Brittany. “Ever.”
“You will.”
Unexpectedly, Brittany actually laughs at Santana's ex-wife, throwing her head back and succeeding in thoroughly pissing Sophie off if her snarl is anything to go by. “Honey,” the blonde says, softening her voice until it's nothing but patronizing. “You can try and get her back, you really can, but it's not going to work. Whereas you're going to be a constant reminder of what she had, I'm going to be a constant reminder of what she has, and what she's always wanted. You were just another stepping stone to find me and the sooner you realize that, the better.”
The amount of confidence Brittany says that in makes Santana stare dreamily at her wife. Fuck, it's so incredible to hear Brittany say that she knows how much Santana loves her. Sure, they tell each other how much they love each other all the time, but hearing Brittany be so damn sure that she loves her is just... It's amazing. A smile graces her lips as she gravitates closer to her wife.
A sharp scoff comes from Sophie and she chuckles, dryly. “You really think she's still going to want you when you're as big as a house?” She asks, shaking her head. “You think she's going to want you when you're popping out a kid and she's getting no sleep?” Narrowed green eyes flicker to Santana. “You really think she's going to stay around for that? This is Santana we're talking about.”
“Yeah,” Brittany lifts an eyebrow in Santana's direction, takes a quick peek at her then glances back to Sophie and nods with complete certainty. “I have no doubt about her. She loves me and she loves our baby and she'd never leave either of us.”
Santana's heart must expand at least ten sizes as she listens to her wife. Her feet shift forward and she comes up behind Brittany, inhaling her magnificent scent and resting both palms low on Brittany's bump, fingers pressing lightly.
“You got that right,” she whispers, only for her wife's ears. “Only you.”
Blue eyes slide to her and Santana's smile is back as Brittany's neck twists, but then it's like she's suddenly reminded that Sophie's in the room and she squeezes tanned hands before stepping out of the grasp and toward Sophie, towering over her again. Her eyes are hard and dark, her nostrils flaring, and her mouth is clenched, perfect, white teeth bared as she glares down at the brunette before her, and Santana can't deny, she's finding her wife really fucking hot right now.
“You see? You heard it from her,” the blonde spits and lifts her chin, knowing she's won. “So if you ever come near my wife again, I will make personally sure that you never see the light of day again. Got it?” A fair eyebrow cocks to emphasize her question and Santana almost explodes as arousal surges through her, but she doesn't focus on that and instead smirks at her ex-wife.
And Sophie's eyes dart between them, and Santana knows she's trying to keep face with the hard expression but she also knows Sophie probably wants to cry right now, accepting that she's been defeated. Seconds later, that's only confirmed when Sophie lets out an angry huff, shakes her head and then turns away, stumbles down the stairs and storms off down the street, scowl still pasted on her face.
//
As soon as Brittany shuts the door and faces her wife again, Santana lurches forward and grabs pale cheeks, bringing their mouths together in a kiss. It's all tongue and teeth, and neither of them carry the same, gentle finesse in it that they're both fully capable of, but that's not really the focus right now. Santana's almost overwhelmed with the arousal she feels at the sight of her wife not only pissed off, but being incredibly possessive and certain of Santana's love for her.
She slides her hands down away from Brittany's face and smooths her palms over her bump before gripping her hips. With the hold she has, she leads them backwards towards the bedroom, their lips still pressed together and tongues still stroking over each other. Pale hands clench into her hair and Santana moans as Brittany's teeth nip at her lip, pulling it back before soothing it with a sweep of her tongue.
Arousal and heat punches through her and when they finally reach the bedroom, Brittany's grinning into Santana's mouth and breaking away, smirking at her with dark blue eyes as she pushes Santana back towards the bed, quickly ridding herself of her jeans before straddling her. Tanned hands fly to long legs, and Santana takes in as much smooth skin as she can as they kiss again, this time softer, gentler. It frustrating in the best way possible, and she responds with a breathy moan and shamelessly grinds up into her wife, her bulge aching as it strains against her pants.
Brittany groans as Santana bucks her hips, and it becomes increasingly obvious that they're still wearing way too many clothes. So she takes matters into her own hands and sits up, attaching her lips to pale neck as her hands slide up Brittany's top, pulling away to tug the the clothing off before running her tongue down the ridge of a pale collarbone. Fingers slide into her hair, tangling at the roots and she kisses down Brittany's chest, her hands unsnapping the hook of the blonde’s bra and flinging the fabric off to the room, before her tongue flicks over the soft flesh around her nipple.
Santana smirks as her wife pushes her chest into her mouth, and a pale hand grabs onto the fabric of her shirt covering her shoulder blades and tugs impatiently until she releases Brittany's nipple with a pop and leans back to let the shirt of her back come off. It's thrown somewhere in the room, her bra following, but she doesn't care because she's straight back to lavishing pale breasts with lips and tongue and Brittany's grinding down against her.
“Santana...” the blonde moans, reaching between them to unzip Santana's jeans, slip beneath the waistband of her boxers and grab at her. Her hips jerk, and a muffled moan escapes her lips. The heat is too much and as Brittany's hand strokes her up and down, she knows if they don't get down to it quickly she's not going to last long.
So she slides her hands down to pale thighs, grips them gently and flips both of them, setting back on her knees as her thumbs hook into the waistband of her jeans and push down, her erection springing free. Blue eyes widen and darken further, and Santana smirks as she shifts to push her jeans off the bottom of her legs, kicking them off the bed until they drop to the floor with a clunk.
Then she's back between long legs, hands pressing into the mattress beside Brittany's hips to keep her torso from pressing against the bump and they're kissing again. It's hot, but sweet, and her hand grazes down her ribs, slipping beneath the blondes panties to slide through hot flesh. Brittany arches, head snapping back and Santana grins as she lowers herself, momentarily removing her hand to grab at her cock and press it to Brittany's clit, earning a sharp gasp.
The noise that comes from Brittany's throat is so fucking hot, and Santana knows she can't wait any longer. Tanned hands slip down to grab at pale ones, and she pulls them up so they both sitting up, except confusion etches across the blondes face and Santana can't help but grin at how her wife can be adorable and so, so sexy at the same time. It's the best kind of paradox.
“Trust me,” she whispers, kissing Brittany softly. “Get on your knees and turn around.”
Brittany hesitates for a second, but then does as she's told and flips around, Santana shuffling back until she's staring down at Brittany, her hands and knees pressing into the mattress and glistening center exposed to her. She licks her lips on instinct, eyes locked firmly at the space between Brittany's legs and she shifts forward, leaning down to trail a path of kisses down the blondes spine as she grabs herself and strokes slowly. Her tongue flicks out and Brittany shudders beneath her, fingers tightening into the comforter, but Santana just smirks.
She'll never tire of teasing Brittany.
“Santana,” Brittany gasps, and Santana can tell by her voice she needs more.
And as always, she's only willing to oblige so she pulls back, one hand falling to Brittany's hip, and the other lining up her pulsating member, the tip running through slick heat. She swears the feeling is so powerful every time, but she doesn't dwell and bites down on her bottom lip, sliding into Brittany, almost losing it right then and there, buried deep inside her wife.
“Fuck,” she groans, falling forward to press her forehead between Brittany's shoulder blades. With this position, she hits the spot that drives Brittany crazy and even though the tight heat coating her is fucking amazing, she takes a deep breath and steadies herself to move.
She starts slowly, shifting her hips and drawing out until only the tip of her cock is still inside, and pushes back in, repeating it and keeping the slow pace. Then she twists in slow, deliberate circles, hips grinding down and stopping the second she's sheathed within her wife. A moan comes from one of them, but she doesn't know who and instead keeps thrusting, rolling her body and sliding one hand up to Brittany's breast, her fingers tweaking a nipple as the other hand slips round and down, fingertips rolling over the pad of Brittany's clit.
Brittany pushes back into her, her ass fitting into the curve of Santana's hips and she just knows that's a sign to pick up the pace a little. With a kiss to smooth skin, Santana pulls her hips back, sliding out halfway and pushes back in, quickening her thrusts a little but not at the speed she knows Brittany wants. Their hips rock together, moans and squeaks tumbling from their mouths and Santana begins to speed up, sliding in and out a little faster and squeezing her eyes shut when her wife clenches around her.
Then the tempo is set and Santana works a little harder and faster, the pressure building deep in her spine and pleasure almost maxing out inside of her. The hand on Brittany's clit quickens, the circles shifting from slow and wide to fast and small, and Brittany's arms buckle as her first orgasm punches through her, her forearms now pressing to the mattress and forehead following it. She shudders, clenching tightly but Santana doesn't relent her thrusts, just slows herself, pushing deeper and holding still as Brittany spasms around her.
It's so hot, listening to and feeling the effect she has on her wife, and the tanned hand on a pale breast slides to Brittany's breastbone, Santana adds a bit of pressure until Brittany gets it and sits up straight, her back pressing into Santana's front. Still buried deep inside, Santana begins to lift her hips, her arm encircling Brittany's waist, hand resting against her baby bump whilst her other still works between Brittany's legs and she feels herself getting closer and closer to the edge, their hips still moving together perfectly.
She pokes her tongue out and licks a path up Brittany's neck, closing her mouth around her pulse point when she gets there and sucks deliberately. Brittany breathes hard and heavy, one hand reaching behind to clutch the nape of Santana's neck and the other sliding over the tanned arm covering the bump to keep them pressed together.
“Oh my God...” Brittany groans, head tipping back and eyes fluttering shut. A small squeak escapes her lips at one deep thrust and then she's coming again. “Santan―”
Her second orgasm rockets through her, and it pushes Santana over the edge. The tension in the low of her back coils and springs free, and they both begin to shudder, limbs quaking and shaky breaths escaping their lips as Brittany clenches around Santana as Santana thrusts in deep, spilling herself into her wife. Her fingers tighten against Brittany's and she rocks them slowly, her eyes clenching shut so tight white spots form behind her eyes and her hand slides up from Brittany's clit to join her other arm, wrapping securely around the blonde and holding them together as they both come down from their high.
//
Later, they're back in the living room, both dressed in some sort of clothing, boxers and a tank top for Santana and a pair of Santana's boxers and a bra for Brittany.
They've eaten their cold Chinese after reluctantly leaving the bedroom―the baby demanded food―and so now they're just relaxing, Brittany with her legs propped up on the coffee table and Santana with her head in her lap on a pillow, eyes focused intently on the baby bump. Her nose is almost touching it and tanned fingers are tracing over smooth skin, eyes almost crossing due to the close proximity.
This is has become something they do recently, since Brittany's become visibly bigger, and Santana can't explain why she loves doing it, but it's just something about being close to the life growing inside of her wife, the life that's half hers and half Brittany's. The thought still makes her heart flutter and even now, she can't help but smile and lean forward to press her lips to the bump.
But then she feels something. It's small but it's definitely there and her head draws back, eyes growing wide as they lock onto the bump. She looks up to her wife, and blue eyes are staring down at her with the exact same impression. They stare at eachother for a long moment before Santana finds the words to speak.
“Uh, Britt―”
“Do it again,” Brittany demands and Santana relents, leaning forward to kiss smooth skin again.
And it happens. The same thing fucking happens again and Santana's mouth drops open, eyes darting up to meet teary blue ones staring straight back at her.
“Did the―”
“He kicked,” bursts from Brittany's mouth and Santana chokes on the breath she takes, processing her wife's words.
“He?” It comes out high pitched and squeaky, but Brittany just bites down on her lip, smiles through it and nods slowly.
“The doctor's appointment,” she says, lowly, almost like she's scared to tell Santana. “They did an ultrasound and it's a boy.” Santana just stares, jaw slack and eyes wide. “We’ve got a little man on the way, San. That’s our son.”
The joy, the excitement, the happiness that flushes through Santana is so overwhelming she almost doesn't move. She almost doesn't show it but then her brain kicks into gear and she bolts upright, sliding her hand around Brittany's neck and kissing her through a smile. They giggle into the kiss and pull away, both of them glancing down to Brittany's bump and marveling at it before tipping their foreheads together and looking deeply into each others eyes.
They're having a boy, and it's going to be the most beautiful baby boy to have ever existed.
So yeah, it's like any other normal day for them, and the sun is out, the sky is bright and the grass is green. They both have a day off, they're happy, they're in love and they're having a baby. Everything's perfect, and nothing can ruin their day.
Well, that's what Santana thinks until they run into a certain couple.
Santana notices them first, and stops in her tracks as Sophie laughs and looks around, meeting her gaze. Her entire body stiffens and Brittany stills beside her, feeling the reaction and shooting her a questioning stare. Except Santana is so shocked that her ex-wife and her boyfriend are here―that she and Brittany are that unlucky―that she can't even tear her eyes away from the other couple and just ends up gazing at them. This of course gives a clear indication of her stopping and Brittany sees them a second Sophie and Puck reach them and just stands back, her free hand coming up to rest on her bump.
And that makes Sophie's eyes zoom immediately to Brittany's stomach, locking onto and noting that she's pregnant. Santana, for her part, just continues staring, shocked and confused. Weren't they supposed to be in California?
It's all awkward for at least a minute or two, because no-one knows what to say or how to react so they end up just looking at each other, taking in the subtle physical differences that have occurred over the past few years. Sophie looks so stressed, with faint stress lines forming on her forehead and she looks like she just needs a few good nights sleep. Puck's standing there in scuffed jeans and a leather jacket, and his mohawk is way too long to even look remotely cool (not that it ever was before) and he's got an overgrown stubble that can't quite pass for a respectable beard. He looks like he's been dragged through the relationship dirt and came out the other side tired and worn out.
Santana almost chuckles. Sophie really was hard work and she almost feels poor for Puck, but then she remembers how much of a douche he is and any sympathy she felt vanishes immediately.
“Wow,” is the first word that anyone speaks and of course it's Sophie and she's still staring at Brittany's bump. “You're pregnant.”
Santana bites back a scathing comment about how obvious that is, and instead reaches over with her free hand to lay it on top of a pale one, reassuring Brittany and herself. “Uh, yeah. Twenty weeks,” she gets out, nodding.
Brittany shifts beside her awkwardly and squeezes their still tangled fingers together a little tighter, silently telling her that it's okay. When her eyes return back to Sophie though, she sees dark green eyes narrowed at Brittany, and Brittany's staring straight back, seeming more and more uncomfortable the longer Sophie glares.
“So,” Santana pipes up, wanting to break her ex-wife's glare. “How... have... you two been?” She lands on, nodding to herself. “I thought you were in Cali?”
“We were,” Sophie replies, shifting her weight. “But it wasn't what we were expecting so we moved back here.”
Puck mutters something beneath his breath about “by we you mean you” and Sophie whips her head around to glare at him. Aren't they just a beaming representation of a healthy relationship.
“You two have an apartment here in New York, then?” Santana presses on, knowing it's too early to leave but wanting to get away as quickly as possible. The last thing she wants to do on her day off with her hot, pregnant wife is to speak to two people in her past. They're in her past for a reason and they're sure as hell going to stay there. Santana just needs to come up with a way of getting out of this situation. Fast, preferably.
Brittany squeezes her hand gently and she shakes herself out of her thoughts to look at her wife who looks more than uncomfortable. She pulls her eyebrows together and is about to ask her what's wrong when blue eyes flicker to hers then over towards Puck, and Santana twists her head to face him, finally pulling her stare away from her wife to look towards the guy.
Who looks about two seconds away from needing a napkin for his drool.
Anger flares across Santana's skin and one eyebrow arches, her jaw clenching as she takes a short, aggressive step towards the staring douche. “You looking to lose a few more teeth, Puckerman?” She hisses, narrowing her eyes into a glare.
Puck doesn't seem fazed by her aggression and smirks, his eyes doing another trail over Brittany which just makes the fury scorch through Santana until her fists are visibly shaking by her side.
“Just admiring your girl here, Lopez,” he says like he's not blatantly checking out Brittany. Out the corner of her eye, Santana sees Sophie go a dark shade of red like she's embarrassed by Puck. No wonder why. If Santana were in Sophie's position she'd be embarrassed, too. “Her eggo's preggo and yet she's still smoking hot.” Puck licks his lips and smirks, eyes still roaming over Brittany's body. “She was always a fine piece of ass, though.”
Santana lips curl up into a snarl at the same time she lurches for him, but Brittany must see it before the action is completed because she wraps her fingers around a tanned wrist and tugs Santana back, shooting her that he's not worth it look. And even though she wants to tear Puck a new one, she knows putting any stress on Brittany wouldn't be good in terms of the pregnancy so she stands down, her shoulders relaxing but nostrils still flaring and angered breaths still escaping her lips.
“Seems like you're still on a tight leash,” Puck bites with a dry chuckle. “Was about time someone tied you down.”
Not only does he say it with a smirk, but then he even goes as far to throw a wink to Brittany and Santana sees red and fucking loses it. She flinches and her fist is ready to start flying when Brittany steps in front of her, probably know she couldn't hold her back now and grabs both of her forearms, pinning them to her side as she speaks.
“It was nice seeing you two again, but we've got to go.”
Puck chuckles darkly and Santana's fists begin to shake as her eyes, wide and angered glare at him. She wants to hit him―fuck, she'd do pretty much anything to just kick the shit out of him right now―but Brittany's dragging her away and in front of them Sophie's latching onto Puck's jacket and tugging him away too, and Santana knows she'd have to leave Brittany's side to get to him and she's not going to do that.
So she just lets Brittany pull her away and calms down the second warm lips press to her cheek and the words “I love you” are whispered in her ear.
//
Later that night she's lounging on the sofa in sweats and a hoodie, watching the TV whilst Brittany's in the kitchen when she gets a text. She reaches over to the side table to grab her phone and flips it open, seeing it's from Quinn.
I need a drink. You up for one? - Q
Santana arches her back to see around the wall by the kitchen to find her wife. And her eyes find Brittany standing by the stove, cooking something and her hips are wiggling about to whatever her iPod's playing, and the largest grin spreads across Santana's face. Her wife is just too adorable sometimes. Her phone vibrates in her hand again and she glances down, laughing at what she sees.
Brittany will say yes so meet me at Barney's in 30 – Q
She shakes her head and pushes up from the couch, moving into the kitchen and crossing it to wrap her arms around her wife's waists, her hands falling to the pronounced bump at the same time her lips drop a kiss to the long slope of a pale neck. Brittany leans back into her, smiling and continuing to wiggle her hips as the song dies down in the docking station.
“Hey, baby,” Brittany says as turns her face to peck a tanned cheek.
Santana hums and peers over her wife's shoulder at the pan sitting on the stove. There's a weird looking pancake cooking, and what looks like Oreos and chips there too. She chuckles. “You got a craving, Britt Britt?”
“I wanted some pancakes, but then I wanted Oreos and chips, too,” the blonde explains, shrugging. “So I thought I'd put them all together 'cause I can't eat three things at once otherwise.”
Santana feels her body shake against Brittany's as she laughs, and slips her hands beneath her wife's top to touch the warm skin low on a pale belly. “This baby is making you eat crazy things,” she mutters, lips pressing to the smooth skin of a shoulder.
“It is,” Brittany agrees and flicks off the stove, twisting and throwing her arms over Santana's shoulders, her bump pressing into Santana's abs as tanned hands settle on her hips. “Hey,” she whispers, properly greeting Santana by kissing her softly, slowly, before tipping their foreheads together. “And yes, you can go out for drinks.”
Santana's head jerks back, eyebrows scrunched together. “How did you―”
“Rachel just text me to ask if she could come over. Her and Quinn had a fight, so I'm guessing she text you.”
She laughs and kisses Brittany again. “Yeah. Are you sure? I don't mind―”
“I'll be fine, San,” the blonde says, pecking her nose and twisting around to the stove once more. “You don't have to worry about me or ickle baby. We'll be fine.”
Santana scrunches her nose up because Brittany's just so damn cute and leans around her, kissing her on the corner of her the mouth and whispering “thank you” before skipping off to the bedroom to change.
//
She gets to Barney's early. She heads towards the bar and slides into one of the stools, smiling at Barney who comes over to her, throwing the rag he always seems to have over his shoulder like bartenders do in the movies.
“Haven't seen you in a while. What can I get you?”
She flashes a smile and nods, her eyes roaming around the bar. “Corona, please.”
Barney nods, knowing by her drink that she's only meeting a friend and reaches into the fridge, taking out a bottle and cracking it open before sliding it down the bar to her. She catches it in her left hand and lifts it, silently thanking him before taking a long pull. Her eyes shut as the liquid slides down and settles into her stomach. She hasn't drunk for a while now, not since Brittany got pregnant. Not fair if she can drink but her wife can't so she just stopped.
Barely a minute later and a hand presses to her back, a little too low for comfort. She spins around, ready to make a remark about Quinn hitting on her when she finds a completely different set of green eyes staring back at her. Her whole body stiffens and fingers go rigid around the beer bottle, the only words coming from her mouth being, “You're not Quinn.”
Sophie chuckles and slides into the stool beside her, martini glass slipping onto the bar top beside Santana's beer. “Not as far as I'm aware,” she replies, looking Santana up and down, but Santana just looks away, hoping that Barney would come over here right now. That would be awesome. “I thought it was you when you came in.”
“Yep,” she says, a little offhandedly, not wanting to be caught speaking to her ex-wife 'cause how bad does that look? Her eyes flicker around but she sees no outing unless Quinn walks through the door right now and realizes that she's actually going to have to talk to Sophie. Shit. “Just waiting for Quinn.”
Sophie nods but makes no move to leave. Double shit. “Great. So, how are you? We didn't manage to catch up the other day.”
“I'm good,” Santana takes a sip of her beer and bobs her head, seeing the expectant look on the other girl's face. For fuck sake, she's not rude. She has to ask how Sophie is too. “And you?”
“I can see you're doing well. You're still as beautiful as ever,” Sophie smirks, her green eyes drifting down Santana's body. Santana just shudders and bites back a grimace. “And I'm okay, but I think I'm going to break up with Noah.”
“That sucks.”
Not picking up on the lack of disinterest in this whole conversation, Sophie shifts forward and crosses one leg over the other. The dress donning her body is short and doesn't leave much to the imagination, but Santana has zero interest. She doesn't even find Sophie remotely attractive. An ugly personality ruins a pretty face.
“Yeah... I think―” Sophie swallows and licks her lips, finger running around the rim of her glass. “I think I made a mistake.” Her eyes flit to Santana and Santana stills. “With him, I mean.”
Santana holds back the breath of relief. “Oh, yeah?”
“Definitely.”
Sophie shuffles to the very edge of her seat, her knees bumping Santana's and slipping between her legs. Seriously, she might as well be on Santana's fucking lap right now. Her hand slips down from her glass and fingers crawl towards the bottle, the pads just brushing over Santana's pinky near the bottom of the bottle. Santana doesn't jerk back, too focused on not scoffing at her ex-wife in disgust.
“I made a lot of mistakes,” Sophie whispers, biting her lip and looking up at the other girl.
And Santana's head reels back, knowing exactly what her ex-wife is suggesting. She narrows her eyes and clenches her jaw, teeth grinding together. Is Sophie serious right now? Her mouth pops open to ask the other girl that exact same question but then Quinn's stepping up to their sides and raising both eyebrows, hazel eyes flitting between them.
“Well, what do we have here?” The blonde says, eying up Sophie in disgust. Only Santana can see the disgust in her expression though.
“Quinn, you remember Sophie, right?” Santana says, realizing how close she and her ex-wife were and shuffles away, clearing her throat.
“I do,” Quinn directs towards Santana with a hard, what are you doing? expression. She then turns to Sophie and flashes a too-sweet smile. “Hi, Sophie,” she draws out, showing her disapproval through her tone.
Sophie sees it and her eyes flicker away, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. And Santana bites back a smile, knowing how intimidating Quinn can be at times and just lowers her head, nails picking at the label of her beer. There's a little awkward silence before someone clears their throat and she peers up to find Sophie standing now, smoothing down her dress and shooting a smile to Santana.
“I should be going,” she says. “Bye, Santana.”
Santana sucks in her lips and raises her chin a little instead of speaking and her ex-wife walks away. But then a sharp smack is delivered to the side of her head and she whips her head around, eyes narrowing into a glare at her friend who's taking Sophie's seat as she rubs her head. “What the fuck, Fabray?”
“So you're buddy-buddy with your ex-wife now?”
“She was here when I walked in and came up to me.”
“And you didn't tell her to go away?”
Santana rolls her eyes, taking a long pull of her beer. “I didn't want to be rude.”
“What did she say then?” Quinn points down to Santana's beer when Barney looks around and nods.
“Nothing of much interest,” Santana answers truthfully. “She just asked how I was and told me she was going to break up with Puckerman.” Quinn throws her a look and she lifts both eyebrows in her direction. “What?”
“Your ex-wife conveniently comes to the same bar that you've been coming to for years, conveniently runs into you and then tells you that she's breaking up with her boyfriend?” Santana just stares, blankly. “Seriously, Lopez? Does none of that seem a bit odd?”
Even though she shrugs, Santana has to admit, yeah, it does seem odd.
“Are you going to tell Britt you saw her?”
“No,” the answer is immediately and Santana just takes another sip of beer.
“Santana!”
She flinches twists to her friend, getting a little fed up of this ear-bashing. “Look, Q, I don't see why I should have to tell Britt. It'll just put more stress her, which means more stress on the baby and fuck, you know what her hormones are like. They're all over the place.” She lifts her shoulders like it'll help her point. “It'll just be an unnecessary argument.”
Quinn's eyes widen and she stares shocked at Santana, but she can see she's completely serious and just lets out a loud exhale, grabbing the beer that Barney slides over to her and taking a long sip of it. “It's a mistake,” she says, hushed and mostly into the bottle.
Santana shrugs. “I'm just thinking of Britt.”
“I just hope you're right.”
Santana just keeps drinking.
//
Part 2
A few nights later she's coming back from work and stops by Mr Chow's to pick up dinner.
And guess who she runs into.
She's barely got her foot in the store when someone calls her name and she lifts her head to find Sophie leaning against the counter, Chinese menu in hand and a smile on her face. Santana almost rolls her eyes and steps back outside to look to the heavens and ask God why he has this vendetta on her, but instead forces a smile and joins her by the counter. The sooner she collects her order, the sooner she can get out of here.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Sophie draws, that twinkle in her eyes that was there the first night they met, and consequently, slept together.
Santana bobs her head and peers over the counter to find one of the workers, but they're in the kitchen apparently. Fuck.
“Well this is my local Chinese,” she says in reply, still looking for someone to give her her order. Can't they just hurry up or something?
“Good to see something things don't change,” comes from beside her softly and she turns to look at her ex-wife, trying to figure out what that meant. But truthfully she doesn't care so she lets her eyes drift away again, showing just that. Luckily a little Chinese woman comes out just at that moment, and Santana tells her the order she rang up about ten minutes ago and the woman disappears quickly, returning with a bag full of food and a smile on her face as Santana hands her a twenty dollar bill, telling her to keep the change.
Santana turns to walk out when she sees Sophie right in front of her, staring at her. She gulps. “I've gotta get going now. Home,” she says, bobbing her head. “To my wife.” She makes a point to say Brittany's her wife but Sophie doesn't stop staring. “Because Britt's coming home from a doctor's appointment as she's pregnant, and she's got one hell of an appetite now.”
Sophie seems completely oblivious to the hints Santana's dropping in and tilts her head, smiling. She reaches forward just as Santana twists, and rubs her arm gently. “Bye. I'll see you around,” she squeezes Santana's arm and flutters her lashes, something that always used to make Santana weak at the knees but now makes her want to hurl.
Santana forces a smile and walks out the store.
//
She barely manages to set the Chinese down on the coffee table before there's a knock at the door. Her back instantly straightens and she whips her head around, wondering who's at the door. But then she relaxes, eyebrows and shoulders lowering as she figures Brittany must have forgotten her keys again. This pregnancy is making her do that quite a lot, actually, probably since she's focused on other things.
Except when she opens the door, she doesn't find Brittany there.
“Sophie?”
Sophie stares up at her, hands nervously wringing in front of her. “Hey.”
Santana's eyes flicker down the street. “Did you follow me home?” She asks, knowing it's the only way Sophie would know where she lived.
“Yes, but I had to,” Sophie says, stepping over the threshold of the house and forcing Santana to take a step back. “I need to tell you something.”
The sentences “Brittany will be home soon” and “I don't want you here” balance on the end of Santana's tongue but Sophie speaks before they can even come out.
“I made a mistake with Puck,” she announces, eyes glistening with honesty as her hands reach for Santana. “I should have never cheated on you.”
Santana shakes her head, eyes narrowing as she moves away from the touch. Why is Sophie telling her this? She doesn't give a damn. “Sophie...”
“I'm still in love with you and I want you back,” her ex-wife says. “I'll do anything, Santana. Please.”
She's begging, Santana can tell but there's nothing inside of her that's even feeling remotely bad. She doesn't care. She has Brittany. She's in love with Brittany and they're having a baby together and she and Sophie are never going to happen again. There's no way in hell it will and she wants to say that. She wants to tell Sophie she has no chance but the words just don't seem to go from her brain to her mouth and she ends up just staring blankly.
But then the physical barrier is broken and Sophie's cupping Santana's cheek, spurring her into action and slapping away the hand against her skin.
“No, Sophie,” she hisses, not quite believing that this is actually happen. “It's not gonna happen.”
Sophie's never been one to give up though and moves closer to Santana, pleading with tear filled eyes and a quivering lower lip. “Please, Santana. You have to. I love you.” Santana almost laughs but doesn't and ends up shaking her head. “I know you loved me, so you can again. It was me before her. Remember that.”
Until now, the only thing Santana felt was slight sympathy because Sophie just looked so damn pathetic, coming to her door―her and her wife's door―and pleading for her to take her back, but now she's just pissed. Pissed because Sophie not only comes to Santana and Brittany's house, but she declares her love that apparently still exists, asks her to take her back and then reminds her that she made the mistake of choosing Sophie over Brittany way back. Anger flares through her and her expression contorts with disgust. How fucking dare Sophie do any of that?
“No, you don't understand, Sophie,” Santana bites, heat bubbling up her throat. “I love Brittany. She's my soulmate and the only woman I've ever truly loved. I don't want you, Sophie. I don't love you.”
It's harsh, and mean, but it's the truth and Santana knows Sophie won't settle for anything other than that. She wouldn't accept anything but that. And luckily, Sophie doesn't respond or try to convince her with any other declarations, just bites down on her lower lip and shrinks down, in the way she always used to do when she wanted to make Santana feel bad. But it won't work, not this time.
Except apparently she knows that, because the next thing Santana's aware of, lips, cold and chapped are pressing against hers and Sophie's clutching at her face, kissing her as hard as she can. It takes a second or two to register what the fuck's going on but when Santana does, the anger that was flaring over her skin explodes and it feels like she's on fire as she snaps into action and goes to shove Sophie off her.
But Sophie's already being yanked back and is letting out a small yelp in Santana's face, one of her hands grabbing at something behind her. And as Santana opens her eyes, she realizes what's pulling Sophie back: Brittany.
“What the hell do you think you're doing!?” Brittany screeches, eyes wide and pissed as she lets go of Sophie's collar and allows her to fall to the floor.
Sophie hits the floor hard, her body clunking against the wood and she winces visibly as Brittany gravitates to stand in front of Santana. But slowly, the girl on the floor pushes up with quaking arms and picks herself up, dusting down her jeans and baring her teeth at the blonde. “Before you came back,” Sophie starts in a low hiss, eyes narrowing at hardening as they lock onto Brittany. “I was what she wanted.”
A smirk comes onto Brittany's face, but she's still pissed off. Her arms are shaking by her side and Santana raises both eyebrows as she takes in the state of her wife. She really is trying not to find angry and possessive Brittany hot but fuck, it really is a turn on.
“But you're not now, are you?” The blonde spits, cocking her hip out to the side and lifting an eyebrow. “So get the hell away from my wife.”
“I was still there before you, and I always will have been,” Sophie's eyes flash to Santana, lingering a little too long. Brittany sees it and Santana grabs her wife before she lurches and smacks Sophie. With the hormones the pregnancy is bringing, Santana really wouldn't put it past her wife to do some serious damage. “No matter what you do, I will have been there first and I want her back, so I'm going to do everything in order for that to happen.”
Brittany doesn't start yelling in the way Santana thought she would, instead she takes a daunting step forward and towers over Sophie. “You're wrong. I was always there. Maybe we didn't realize it but it was us way before you two, but it still counts.” Santana bites back the smirk at the sound of her wife like this. It's really fucking hot. “So if you think you have another chance you really are stupider than you look.”
Sophie doesn't seem fazed by the height difference and lifts her chin, shoulders squaring. “She'll take me back.”
Santana scoffs and know she has to cut in. This is just fucking stupid. “I'm not going to take you back, Sophie,” she says, stepping closer to Brittany. “Ever.”
“You will.”
Unexpectedly, Brittany actually laughs at Santana's ex-wife, throwing her head back and succeeding in thoroughly pissing Sophie off if her snarl is anything to go by. “Honey,” the blonde says, softening her voice until it's nothing but patronizing. “You can try and get her back, you really can, but it's not going to work. Whereas you're going to be a constant reminder of what she had, I'm going to be a constant reminder of what she has, and what she's always wanted. You were just another stepping stone to find me and the sooner you realize that, the better.”
The amount of confidence Brittany says that in makes Santana stare dreamily at her wife. Fuck, it's so incredible to hear Brittany say that she knows how much Santana loves her. Sure, they tell each other how much they love each other all the time, but hearing Brittany be so damn sure that she loves her is just... It's amazing. A smile graces her lips as she gravitates closer to her wife.
A sharp scoff comes from Sophie and she chuckles, dryly. “You really think she's still going to want you when you're as big as a house?” She asks, shaking her head. “You think she's going to want you when you're popping out a kid and she's getting no sleep?” Narrowed green eyes flicker to Santana. “You really think she's going to stay around for that? This is Santana we're talking about.”
“Yeah,” Brittany lifts an eyebrow in Santana's direction, takes a quick peek at her then glances back to Sophie and nods with complete certainty. “I have no doubt about her. She loves me and she loves our baby and she'd never leave either of us.”
Santana's heart must expand at least ten sizes as she listens to her wife. Her feet shift forward and she comes up behind Brittany, inhaling her magnificent scent and resting both palms low on Brittany's bump, fingers pressing lightly.
“You got that right,” she whispers, only for her wife's ears. “Only you.”
Blue eyes slide to her and Santana's smile is back as Brittany's neck twists, but then it's like she's suddenly reminded that Sophie's in the room and she squeezes tanned hands before stepping out of the grasp and toward Sophie, towering over her again. Her eyes are hard and dark, her nostrils flaring, and her mouth is clenched, perfect, white teeth bared as she glares down at the brunette before her, and Santana can't deny, she's finding her wife really fucking hot right now.
“You see? You heard it from her,” the blonde spits and lifts her chin, knowing she's won. “So if you ever come near my wife again, I will make personally sure that you never see the light of day again. Got it?” A fair eyebrow cocks to emphasize her question and Santana almost explodes as arousal surges through her, but she doesn't focus on that and instead smirks at her ex-wife.
And Sophie's eyes dart between them, and Santana knows she's trying to keep face with the hard expression but she also knows Sophie probably wants to cry right now, accepting that she's been defeated. Seconds later, that's only confirmed when Sophie lets out an angry huff, shakes her head and then turns away, stumbles down the stairs and storms off down the street, scowl still pasted on her face.
//
As soon as Brittany shuts the door and faces her wife again, Santana lurches forward and grabs pale cheeks, bringing their mouths together in a kiss. It's all tongue and teeth, and neither of them carry the same, gentle finesse in it that they're both fully capable of, but that's not really the focus right now. Santana's almost overwhelmed with the arousal she feels at the sight of her wife not only pissed off, but being incredibly possessive and certain of Santana's love for her.
She slides her hands down away from Brittany's face and smooths her palms over her bump before gripping her hips. With the hold she has, she leads them backwards towards the bedroom, their lips still pressed together and tongues still stroking over each other. Pale hands clench into her hair and Santana moans as Brittany's teeth nip at her lip, pulling it back before soothing it with a sweep of her tongue.
Arousal and heat punches through her and when they finally reach the bedroom, Brittany's grinning into Santana's mouth and breaking away, smirking at her with dark blue eyes as she pushes Santana back towards the bed, quickly ridding herself of her jeans before straddling her. Tanned hands fly to long legs, and Santana takes in as much smooth skin as she can as they kiss again, this time softer, gentler. It frustrating in the best way possible, and she responds with a breathy moan and shamelessly grinds up into her wife, her bulge aching as it strains against her pants.
Brittany groans as Santana bucks her hips, and it becomes increasingly obvious that they're still wearing way too many clothes. So she takes matters into her own hands and sits up, attaching her lips to pale neck as her hands slide up Brittany's top, pulling away to tug the the clothing off before running her tongue down the ridge of a pale collarbone. Fingers slide into her hair, tangling at the roots and she kisses down Brittany's chest, her hands unsnapping the hook of the blonde’s bra and flinging the fabric off to the room, before her tongue flicks over the soft flesh around her nipple.
Santana smirks as her wife pushes her chest into her mouth, and a pale hand grabs onto the fabric of her shirt covering her shoulder blades and tugs impatiently until she releases Brittany's nipple with a pop and leans back to let the shirt of her back come off. It's thrown somewhere in the room, her bra following, but she doesn't care because she's straight back to lavishing pale breasts with lips and tongue and Brittany's grinding down against her.
“Santana...” the blonde moans, reaching between them to unzip Santana's jeans, slip beneath the waistband of her boxers and grab at her. Her hips jerk, and a muffled moan escapes her lips. The heat is too much and as Brittany's hand strokes her up and down, she knows if they don't get down to it quickly she's not going to last long.
So she slides her hands down to pale thighs, grips them gently and flips both of them, setting back on her knees as her thumbs hook into the waistband of her jeans and push down, her erection springing free. Blue eyes widen and darken further, and Santana smirks as she shifts to push her jeans off the bottom of her legs, kicking them off the bed until they drop to the floor with a clunk.
Then she's back between long legs, hands pressing into the mattress beside Brittany's hips to keep her torso from pressing against the bump and they're kissing again. It's hot, but sweet, and her hand grazes down her ribs, slipping beneath the blondes panties to slide through hot flesh. Brittany arches, head snapping back and Santana grins as she lowers herself, momentarily removing her hand to grab at her cock and press it to Brittany's clit, earning a sharp gasp.
The noise that comes from Brittany's throat is so fucking hot, and Santana knows she can't wait any longer. Tanned hands slip down to grab at pale ones, and she pulls them up so they both sitting up, except confusion etches across the blondes face and Santana can't help but grin at how her wife can be adorable and so, so sexy at the same time. It's the best kind of paradox.
“Trust me,” she whispers, kissing Brittany softly. “Get on your knees and turn around.”
Brittany hesitates for a second, but then does as she's told and flips around, Santana shuffling back until she's staring down at Brittany, her hands and knees pressing into the mattress and glistening center exposed to her. She licks her lips on instinct, eyes locked firmly at the space between Brittany's legs and she shifts forward, leaning down to trail a path of kisses down the blondes spine as she grabs herself and strokes slowly. Her tongue flicks out and Brittany shudders beneath her, fingers tightening into the comforter, but Santana just smirks.
She'll never tire of teasing Brittany.
“Santana,” Brittany gasps, and Santana can tell by her voice she needs more.
And as always, she's only willing to oblige so she pulls back, one hand falling to Brittany's hip, and the other lining up her pulsating member, the tip running through slick heat. She swears the feeling is so powerful every time, but she doesn't dwell and bites down on her bottom lip, sliding into Brittany, almost losing it right then and there, buried deep inside her wife.
“Fuck,” she groans, falling forward to press her forehead between Brittany's shoulder blades. With this position, she hits the spot that drives Brittany crazy and even though the tight heat coating her is fucking amazing, she takes a deep breath and steadies herself to move.
She starts slowly, shifting her hips and drawing out until only the tip of her cock is still inside, and pushes back in, repeating it and keeping the slow pace. Then she twists in slow, deliberate circles, hips grinding down and stopping the second she's sheathed within her wife. A moan comes from one of them, but she doesn't know who and instead keeps thrusting, rolling her body and sliding one hand up to Brittany's breast, her fingers tweaking a nipple as the other hand slips round and down, fingertips rolling over the pad of Brittany's clit.
Brittany pushes back into her, her ass fitting into the curve of Santana's hips and she just knows that's a sign to pick up the pace a little. With a kiss to smooth skin, Santana pulls her hips back, sliding out halfway and pushes back in, quickening her thrusts a little but not at the speed she knows Brittany wants. Their hips rock together, moans and squeaks tumbling from their mouths and Santana begins to speed up, sliding in and out a little faster and squeezing her eyes shut when her wife clenches around her.
Then the tempo is set and Santana works a little harder and faster, the pressure building deep in her spine and pleasure almost maxing out inside of her. The hand on Brittany's clit quickens, the circles shifting from slow and wide to fast and small, and Brittany's arms buckle as her first orgasm punches through her, her forearms now pressing to the mattress and forehead following it. She shudders, clenching tightly but Santana doesn't relent her thrusts, just slows herself, pushing deeper and holding still as Brittany spasms around her.
It's so hot, listening to and feeling the effect she has on her wife, and the tanned hand on a pale breast slides to Brittany's breastbone, Santana adds a bit of pressure until Brittany gets it and sits up straight, her back pressing into Santana's front. Still buried deep inside, Santana begins to lift her hips, her arm encircling Brittany's waist, hand resting against her baby bump whilst her other still works between Brittany's legs and she feels herself getting closer and closer to the edge, their hips still moving together perfectly.
She pokes her tongue out and licks a path up Brittany's neck, closing her mouth around her pulse point when she gets there and sucks deliberately. Brittany breathes hard and heavy, one hand reaching behind to clutch the nape of Santana's neck and the other sliding over the tanned arm covering the bump to keep them pressed together.
“Oh my God...” Brittany groans, head tipping back and eyes fluttering shut. A small squeak escapes her lips at one deep thrust and then she's coming again. “Santan―”
Her second orgasm rockets through her, and it pushes Santana over the edge. The tension in the low of her back coils and springs free, and they both begin to shudder, limbs quaking and shaky breaths escaping their lips as Brittany clenches around Santana as Santana thrusts in deep, spilling herself into her wife. Her fingers tighten against Brittany's and she rocks them slowly, her eyes clenching shut so tight white spots form behind her eyes and her hand slides up from Brittany's clit to join her other arm, wrapping securely around the blonde and holding them together as they both come down from their high.
//
Later, they're back in the living room, both dressed in some sort of clothing, boxers and a tank top for Santana and a pair of Santana's boxers and a bra for Brittany.
They've eaten their cold Chinese after reluctantly leaving the bedroom―the baby demanded food―and so now they're just relaxing, Brittany with her legs propped up on the coffee table and Santana with her head in her lap on a pillow, eyes focused intently on the baby bump. Her nose is almost touching it and tanned fingers are tracing over smooth skin, eyes almost crossing due to the close proximity.
This is has become something they do recently, since Brittany's become visibly bigger, and Santana can't explain why she loves doing it, but it's just something about being close to the life growing inside of her wife, the life that's half hers and half Brittany's. The thought still makes her heart flutter and even now, she can't help but smile and lean forward to press her lips to the bump.
But then she feels something. It's small but it's definitely there and her head draws back, eyes growing wide as they lock onto the bump. She looks up to her wife, and blue eyes are staring down at her with the exact same impression. They stare at eachother for a long moment before Santana finds the words to speak.
“Uh, Britt―”
“Do it again,” Brittany demands and Santana relents, leaning forward to kiss smooth skin again.
And it happens. The same thing fucking happens again and Santana's mouth drops open, eyes darting up to meet teary blue ones staring straight back at her.
“Did the―”
“He kicked,” bursts from Brittany's mouth and Santana chokes on the breath she takes, processing her wife's words.
“He?” It comes out high pitched and squeaky, but Brittany just bites down on her lip, smiles through it and nods slowly.
“The doctor's appointment,” she says, lowly, almost like she's scared to tell Santana. “They did an ultrasound and it's a boy.” Santana just stares, jaw slack and eyes wide. “We’ve got a little man on the way, San. That’s our son.”
The joy, the excitement, the happiness that flushes through Santana is so overwhelming she almost doesn't move. She almost doesn't show it but then her brain kicks into gear and she bolts upright, sliding her hand around Brittany's neck and kissing her through a smile. They giggle into the kiss and pull away, both of them glancing down to Brittany's bump and marveling at it before tipping their foreheads together and looking deeply into each others eyes.
They're having a boy, and it's going to be the most beautiful baby boy to have ever existed.