Fic: Remember When 14/16
Title: Remember When 14/16
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1050
Summary: Brittany's fifty...
Warnings: Sexual references
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, blah blah woof woof.
Brittany's fifty and she's in tears, holding her grandson in her arms.
Santana's not faring much better, and Adrian's standing there grinning like a mad man at the both of them. Brittany thinks maybe he understands a little of how she felt twenty two years ago when it was Adrian in her arms. Conner's twenty minutes old and already he's the life of the party, eyes wide open taking everything in.
Summer comes bursting into the room. Summer's twenty and she's a sophomore at UCLA - the old alma mater, as Santana insists on calling it - and she bolted out of her classes when she heard Adrian's partner was in labor. She holds out her arms for the baby, she's so excited to be an aunt, and Brittany reluctantly hands the little bundle over, reminding her daughter to be careful of the baby's head.
Santana takes her by the hand and leads her out of the room, and they hold each other tight, still crying, but unable to wipe the stupid grins off their faces. They're grandmothers, they have a grandson. It's so overwhelmingly huge that Brittany can't find words, so she gives up and crushes their lips together. They stand in a mostly empty corridor of the hospital, tongues tangling, Santana's fingers wrapped in Brittany's hair.
Brittany's fifty and from what she understands, love isn't usually like this. She thinks about Noah - he was such a man whore all through high school, met the love of his life when he was in his thirties, had two kids and was divorced by the time he was forty five. She thinks about Kurt, settled down finally with a man he said he'd fallen in love with the first time he'd laid eyes on him, but the two of them hadn't met until Kurt was forty.
She thinks about Rachel, single and alone, pretending she's happy but really pining away for the one person she's ever loved, who she gave up in high school - Quinn. And she thinks about Quinn, also single, but too proud and too scared to admit she'd been in love with Rachel right back.
She thinks about Santana, and how even when they were four, Brittany couldn't imagine growing older with anyone but her. Brittany's fifty, and she doesn't claim to be the world's authority on anything, least of all love, but she knows what she and Santana have is rare and beautiful. She knows a lot of people think they've found this, and are devastated when it fades, but she knows that her feelings for and attraction to Santana are just as strong now as when she was sixteen - and she knows Santana feels the same way.
I love you, she says, smiling brightly at Santana. Santana's fifty and her black hair is streaked with gray and she hates it, but Brittany likes it, says it makes her look distinguished and smoking hot. She wears glasses now but she still has that air about her, that air of confidence that everyone around her finds so sexy.
I love you too, Santana replies, her face mirroring Brittany's, and they enter the room together as Summer comes to get them, Santana taking her turn holding Conner, who has already been dubbed Little Conn. Brittany's got the camera out now and she's taking pictures of everyone and everything, except Adrian's partner Alex who doesn't want to be photographed so soon after giving birth. She snaps about a hundred shots of Santana cooing over Little Conn, remembering the way she'd cooed over Adrian way back when, and her heart hurts, hurts because it's so big and so full and threatening to beat out of her chest.
It's later and they're back at home, and the house is quiet except for the sound of a dog barking next door and their cat scuffling in the living room, probably chasing dust motes again. They're tangled together in their bed and Santana's looking at her in that way that means they're going to have sex, a lot of it, and Brittany might be fifty, but she's never too old to want this, to want Santana. Santana's hands aren't as steady now as they were when they were sixteen, but they still know exactly where to press and caress to make Brittany's breath catch in her throat, to make Brittany cry out into the darkness.
It's later and they're both exhausted and Brittany is draped over Santana's body in a way that makes Brittany concerned about Santana's ability to breathe, but Santana won't let her move, holds her close and strokes her hair and murmurs sweet nothings into her ear. The words I love you aren't enough, but they're also unnecessary, because Brittany knows Santana feels everything she feels.
It's a week later and surprisingly, Adrian and Alex have let Brittany and Santana look after Little Conn for the afternoon. Brittany hadn't remembered what a lot of work it is, looking after someone who can't walk or talk. She thinks maybe she romanticized it in her mind, because her memories of Adrian and Summer at this age don't include this horrible bone grating tiredness at the end of the afternoon. Finally he's asleep and Brittany's on the couch with him in her arms and Santana's giving in to the urge to take another hundred and one photos.
I guess we're getting older, Santana says after Adrian has come to pick up Little Conn and the two of them are curled up together on the sofa. Brittany nods, human mortality is still a touchy subject with her, especially since her mother died a couple of years after her father, and especially since neither of her parents will ever get to see her grandson. Brittany's fifty but she still cries sometimes, missing her parents dreadfully and thanking whatever God is up there that he sent someone as beautiful, strong and loving as Santana to look after her.
I don't mind getting older as long as you're here with me, she says softly, and Santana presses the most chaste of kisses to her forehead.
I'm here, she says, and that's enough.
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1050
Summary: Brittany's fifty...
Warnings: Sexual references
Disclaimer: Not mine, never were, blah blah woof woof.
Brittany's fifty and she's in tears, holding her grandson in her arms.
Santana's not faring much better, and Adrian's standing there grinning like a mad man at the both of them. Brittany thinks maybe he understands a little of how she felt twenty two years ago when it was Adrian in her arms. Conner's twenty minutes old and already he's the life of the party, eyes wide open taking everything in.
Summer comes bursting into the room. Summer's twenty and she's a sophomore at UCLA - the old alma mater, as Santana insists on calling it - and she bolted out of her classes when she heard Adrian's partner was in labor. She holds out her arms for the baby, she's so excited to be an aunt, and Brittany reluctantly hands the little bundle over, reminding her daughter to be careful of the baby's head.
Santana takes her by the hand and leads her out of the room, and they hold each other tight, still crying, but unable to wipe the stupid grins off their faces. They're grandmothers, they have a grandson. It's so overwhelmingly huge that Brittany can't find words, so she gives up and crushes their lips together. They stand in a mostly empty corridor of the hospital, tongues tangling, Santana's fingers wrapped in Brittany's hair.
Brittany's fifty and from what she understands, love isn't usually like this. She thinks about Noah - he was such a man whore all through high school, met the love of his life when he was in his thirties, had two kids and was divorced by the time he was forty five. She thinks about Kurt, settled down finally with a man he said he'd fallen in love with the first time he'd laid eyes on him, but the two of them hadn't met until Kurt was forty.
She thinks about Rachel, single and alone, pretending she's happy but really pining away for the one person she's ever loved, who she gave up in high school - Quinn. And she thinks about Quinn, also single, but too proud and too scared to admit she'd been in love with Rachel right back.
She thinks about Santana, and how even when they were four, Brittany couldn't imagine growing older with anyone but her. Brittany's fifty, and she doesn't claim to be the world's authority on anything, least of all love, but she knows what she and Santana have is rare and beautiful. She knows a lot of people think they've found this, and are devastated when it fades, but she knows that her feelings for and attraction to Santana are just as strong now as when she was sixteen - and she knows Santana feels the same way.
I love you, she says, smiling brightly at Santana. Santana's fifty and her black hair is streaked with gray and she hates it, but Brittany likes it, says it makes her look distinguished and smoking hot. She wears glasses now but she still has that air about her, that air of confidence that everyone around her finds so sexy.
I love you too, Santana replies, her face mirroring Brittany's, and they enter the room together as Summer comes to get them, Santana taking her turn holding Conner, who has already been dubbed Little Conn. Brittany's got the camera out now and she's taking pictures of everyone and everything, except Adrian's partner Alex who doesn't want to be photographed so soon after giving birth. She snaps about a hundred shots of Santana cooing over Little Conn, remembering the way she'd cooed over Adrian way back when, and her heart hurts, hurts because it's so big and so full and threatening to beat out of her chest.
It's later and they're back at home, and the house is quiet except for the sound of a dog barking next door and their cat scuffling in the living room, probably chasing dust motes again. They're tangled together in their bed and Santana's looking at her in that way that means they're going to have sex, a lot of it, and Brittany might be fifty, but she's never too old to want this, to want Santana. Santana's hands aren't as steady now as they were when they were sixteen, but they still know exactly where to press and caress to make Brittany's breath catch in her throat, to make Brittany cry out into the darkness.
It's later and they're both exhausted and Brittany is draped over Santana's body in a way that makes Brittany concerned about Santana's ability to breathe, but Santana won't let her move, holds her close and strokes her hair and murmurs sweet nothings into her ear. The words I love you aren't enough, but they're also unnecessary, because Brittany knows Santana feels everything she feels.
It's a week later and surprisingly, Adrian and Alex have let Brittany and Santana look after Little Conn for the afternoon. Brittany hadn't remembered what a lot of work it is, looking after someone who can't walk or talk. She thinks maybe she romanticized it in her mind, because her memories of Adrian and Summer at this age don't include this horrible bone grating tiredness at the end of the afternoon. Finally he's asleep and Brittany's on the couch with him in her arms and Santana's giving in to the urge to take another hundred and one photos.
I guess we're getting older, Santana says after Adrian has come to pick up Little Conn and the two of them are curled up together on the sofa. Brittany nods, human mortality is still a touchy subject with her, especially since her mother died a couple of years after her father, and especially since neither of her parents will ever get to see her grandson. Brittany's fifty but she still cries sometimes, missing her parents dreadfully and thanking whatever God is up there that he sent someone as beautiful, strong and loving as Santana to look after her.
I don't mind getting older as long as you're here with me, she says softly, and Santana presses the most chaste of kisses to her forehead.
I'm here, she says, and that's enough.