#(since hyphens don't tag properly smh @tumblr)

[echoes-of-realities]

I’ll bake me a door to help me get through (I learned that from you)

@you-will-be-my-squishy asked: Hey just read all of your prompts on AO3, they're amazing. I was wondering if you would take a prompt about Abuela's presence in Santana's life after the wedding and not missing out on all the important moments :)

Notes: I’m not all together happy with this, but I just wanted it to be done. This was weirdly emotional (which is why, I think, I wasn’t satisfied with this at all) since my own grandma died before I could come out to her and, even though I knew she wouldn’t have disowned me, she never would have been okay with it, so.

Title from “What Baking Can Do” from Waitress the Musical

Santana doesn’t really expect their first anniversary to be too extravagant because they both work all day; their plan is to make supper together and drink wine in the bathtub and make love until they remember they still have work in the morning, and Santana’s pretty sure it’ll be the best anniversary anyone could ever have (not that she’s biased or anything).

She’s expecting it to be special because it’s just the two of them, being together, as they’ve always been; she’s not expecting there to be some grand gesture, which is why, when she walks in the front door after work to be greeted, not by Tubbs, but by her abuela, she’s pretty sure she just stepped into an alternate universe.

Her abuela stands at the end of the short entrance hallway, an apron covering her dress and the scent of freshly baked empanadas drifting through the apartment. “Abuela!” Santana shouts, loud enough to scare Tubbs, based on the sound of claws scampering across the living room.

“Santana,” her abuela chides, “you are always too skinny. Come, eat,” she demands.

Santana doesn’t move, her purse hanging low to the ground and one shoe already off. “Abuela,” she says again.

“Yes, yes,” abuela tuts, “we know each other’s names. Now come, I have been baking all day.”

Santana shakes her head, but can’t quite shake off her shocked stupor as she mechanically follows her abuela into her tiny apartment kitchen, kicking off her other shoe and hanging up her purse and coat on the coatrack as she passes it. Abuela wasn’t kidding; every inch of counter space is filled with cooling baking or rising dough or scattered ingredients or containers of pastries (Santana’s pretty sure her and Britt don’t even own that many containers). “Abuela,” Santana says blankly again.

Abuela stops in the kitchen and turns to survey her granddaughter with critical eyes. Santana fidgets under abuela’s stare, but then abeula’s face softens and she steps forward to take both of Santana’s hands. “You look happy,” she says, and Santana can’t help the smile that spreads. She’s definitely happier than she’s ever been before, which has a lot to do with being married to the most amazing woman in the world.

“I am,” she says simply instead of all the things she’s thinking about.

Abuela pulls her into a tight hug. “I am glad,” she whispers fiercely.

“So am I,” Santana agrees into abuela’s neck, “But, uh, what are you even doing here?”

Abuela pulls back and holds Santana at arms length. “It is your first anniversary—”

She’s interrupted by the door opening and Brittany calling “Honey? I’m home.”

Abuela pushes Santana towards the front door with a knowing nod and a fond smile; Santana doesn’t take much convincing to go greet her wife anyways. Brittany lights up as soon as she spots Santana, her coat caught around her elbows, and Santana feels all the stress of her shift at work drift away. “Hey wifey,” Santana murmurs.

Brittany’s smile widens and her eyes soften, sparkling in the single light in the hallway since they keep forgetting to change the one that burnt out a couple weeks ago. “Hey wifey,” she murmurs back, starting to reach for Santana before her coat restricts her. Santana giggles and crosses the hallway, helping Brittany out of her coat before letting herself be pulled into a warm embrace. Brittany’s lips are cold against hers, and Santana makes it her mission to warm them up; she kisses Brittany long and deep but remains mindful of her abuela just down the hall and slowly draws back before they get carried away.

“Hi,” Brittany whispers, brushing some stray hair away from Santana’s forehead.

Santana giggles. “Hi,” she whispers back, tightening her arms around Brittany’s waist.

“Did you get my gift?” Brittany asks quietly, and Santana’s smile widens and she nods. “Good,” Brittany says, leaning down to kiss Santana again. “Did you like it?”

“Of course I did,” Santana says in awe, “You brought my abuela here.”

“What?” Brittany says blankly.

“My abuela? She’s here and,” Santana trails off at the look of utter confusion on her wife’s face. “And you have no clue either,” she realizes.

Brittany shakes her head. “No clue,” she confirms. “When’d she get here?”

Santana shakes her head and leans her forehead against Brittany’s shoulder with a sigh. “She was here when I got home. I just assumed you flew her out here since I’ve been missing her so much lately.”

Abuela had a minor medical scare a couple months ago, one that scared Santana far more than it scared abuela, and ever since then Santana hasn’t been able to stop thinking about how old her abuela is getting, and how much time they’ve already lost. She knows Brittany’s noticed, because every time she talks to abuela on the phone, Brittany holds her tight and sprinkles kisses along her temple.

“I definitely didn’t. I mean, I was actually planning on flying her out for easter,” Brittany admits with a slight blush, chewing on her bottom lip, “But apparently abeula beat me to it.”

“I—” Santana trails off and shakes her head in disbelief, all her love for her wife bubbling up until she has to kiss her, soft and sweet. She pulls back and Brittany runs her thumb over Santana’s cheek. “I don’t know what she’s doing here,” Santana admits, “Or how she got here.”

Brittany starts to answer, but abuela calling both of their names from the kitchen cuts them off. Brittany shrugs and presses a quick kiss to Santana’s lips before they head back to the kitchen.

“As an aside,” Brittany whispers, “If you didn’t bring her here, and I didn’t, how’d she get in?”

Santana glances at her wife sharply, her eyes wide and her brow furrowed. “I don’t know,” she whispers back.

“We should probably deal with that later,” Brittany suggest mildly. “Because, like, locks and safety and stuff.”

“Probably,” Santana agrees.

When they enter the kitchen, Brittany’s eyes go wide at the spread of baking across their tiny counters, and Santana can practically see her drooling at all the homemade food.

“Brittany,” abuela greets, quickly crossing the kitchen to pull her into a hug almost as fierce as the one she gave Santana. “It is good to see you.”

Brittany can barely get out the “You too, abuela,” before abuela is scolding them for not eating enough and ushering them to the breakfast bar, placing a large plate of all the different food she’s cooked today.

Brittany grins at Santana as she bites into an empanada, groaning as she chews it gratefully. “This is delicious,” Brittany says as soon as she’s swallowed, and abuela lights up.

“Santana told me you love cinnamon, so I experimented a little bit with the filling and dough to make it more of a dessert empanada,” she explains with pleased delight.

“An amazingly successful experiment,” Brittany gushes.

“You must try some of the flan then, I found an old recipe of my mother’s while cleaning out my bookshelves.”

Santana melts as she listens to her wife and her abuela discuss baking techniques and stories of food gone wrong. She chews thoughtfully on her empanada, feeling a slight tug of nostalgic homesickness she hasn’t felt in years; but looking at how Brittany lights up when abuela takes her plate and piles more food on it, the homesickness fades and she knows that, no matter where they end up, Brittany will always make every place feel like home. She just sits, basking in how easy it feels for her wife and her abuela to talk; and knows she’ll never forget just how easily this day almost didn’t happen.

“So, do you two have any plans for tonight?” abuela asks, and Santana starts, glancing at Brittany.

“Um, not really abuelita,” Santana says slowly.

Abuela regards them with unreadable eyes. “You didn’t plan anything for your first wedding anniversary?” she asks slowly, making both girls squirm.

“We were just going to have a quiet night,” Santana says without meeting her abuela’s eyes. She’s overjoyed to have her abuela here, but she was also really looking forward to spending her evening with Brittany celebrating their first year of marriage. Abeula’s eyes narrow and before she realizes what’s happening, Santana is explaining the evening they had planned (leaving the sex part out, of course, because it’s her abuela and Santana always still feels like a little girl around her and that would be far too weird).

“You should not change your plans because of me,” abuela insists, staring them down until they each meet her eyes. “I am here for a week and a couple days, so we have lots of time to spend together and catch up.”

“Speaking of,” Santana says quickly, “Why did you come out here?”

“I told you I will not miss any more important days,” abuela says easily, and Santana’s chest clenches with something light and happy, “And there are fewer days more important than your anniversary.”

Santana can’t help but glance at Brittany, who’s already smiling back at her. She takes Santana’s hand under the breakfast bar counter, pulling it into her lap so she can play with her fingers, carefully and lovingly tracing the wedding band snug against her knuckle.

“I will leave you two,” abuela says with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“No, abuela,” Brittany starts.

“You should stay for supper,” Santana adds, but abuela just shakes her head.

“No, Santanita,” abuela says with a knowing smile, leaning forward to take the hand not occupied by Brittany. “You should spend the evening doting on your wife,” she says with a wink, and Santana feels like she might float away at her abuela’s acknowledgement.

“Oh, I definitely will,” Santana says before Brittany has a chance to argue that she should be doing the doting. “But hey, since you’ll be here for a while,” Santana starts with a grin, wide and uninhibited, “Britt and I will have to show you around the city.”

“I would really like that,” abuela says with a smile. “Except for tomorrow around lunch time,” abuela adds, “I am busy then.”

Santana frowns a little and glances at her wife. “Uh, okay? What do you have planned then?”

To Santana’s surprise, it’s Brittany who answers. “A new telenovela episode comes out tomorrow. You can’t miss it, Eva just found out about Rafael’s affair and the argument will be, just, impressively dramatic.”

Abuela laughs and squeezes Santana’s hand, who’s glancing between her wife and her abuela in confusion. “You should listen to your wife,” she says, and Santana has a feeling the thrill that goes through her every time her abuela says your wife will never go away, “she is very smart.”

Santana shakes her head and glances at Brittany, who’s watching her with steady, adoring eyes, a slight blush pinking her cheeks even after all these years of being acknowledged as one of the greatest mathematical minds of their generation. “You’re right abuela,” Santana murmurs, “she’s a genius.”