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Title: Parents
Pairing: Santana/Rachel
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~1,500
Summary: Santana meets Rachel's dads.
Author's Note: Part of the Pezberry-verse. Jumping back in time a bit.

Moods | Surprises | Whipped | Origins | Appendectomy | Lies

Meeting your girlfriend's parents for the first time can definitely be a nerve wracking experience. For Santana Lopez, it was close to terrifying. She had managed to elude Rachel's dads for a while; they didn't really hang out much at Rachel's when they were friends and after their first kiss on New Year's Day. Even in spending Hanukkah with Rachel, her dads were busy volunteering at their synagogue after a flu epidemic took out all other available volunteers. Santana always seemed to miss them by a few minutes. Thank God. For Valentine's Day, Santana had convinced Rachel to meet her at Breadstix, thus averting meeting the Berry men yet again.

By mid-March, Santana was counting down the days until she would be leaving for New York (the part about it being with Rachel was unspoken still, but she had a feeling) and, with it, counting down the days she could avoid meeting Leroy and Hiram. It was an unreal expectation, especially since Rachel had started hinting at it. But Santana was determined. She had gotten Brittany shipped off to the Netherlands and duh, Rachel's dads were gay and knew they were dating...but after meeting Santana they could very easily decide she wasn't good enough or something.

She would meet them, though. Just...not in the way she would expect. Ever.

Leroy and Hiram were out for the evening, as they were every Friday night, while Santana enjoyed snuggling with Rachel on the couch. Rachel never would say where they went, just that Friday nights her dads were out. It was quiet for the moment which was rare for Rachel. To cut the silence, Santana reached for the TV remote which was, apparently, the worst idea on the face of planet Earth.

“No!” Rachel shrieked, scrambling to grab the remote. “You-you can't!”

“What...it's just TV, Rachel.”

“You know the rule, Santana,” Rachel growled. She grabbed the remote and stuffed it in the couch cushions. “No television on date night.”

“Sorry,” Santana mumbled, shifting. “I didn't-”

The shift must've hit a button as the TV turned itself on and to Lima Public Broadcasting sending Rachel into a frenzy to try and pull the remote back out. It was too late, though. Santana discovered where the Berry men went every Friday night. Leroy and Hiram were in a set kitchen, laughing and flirting as they prepared what looked to be a tart of some sort. Cartons of fresh berries, pastry cream, and a few tart shells were scattered about.

“Hiram do you remember,” Leroy chuckled, “do you remember the time we tried to make a berry tart with Rachel when was little?”

“Oh goodness! There was pastry cream everywhere!”

“I think...Ron, don't we have a picture for this segment? Oh, there it is!”

A picture of Rachel, about two years old and clad in nothing but a diaper and pastry cream all over her, popped up on the screen. It sent Santana into a fit of laughter and Rachel almost in to tears. But it was hilarious. Damn hilarious.

“Where is the remote?!” Rachel shrieked. “We have to turn it off...”

“No, no!” Santana growled, pulling Rachel to the floor. “We have to watch this! I need to see...”

“Santana, you don't understand...”

Again, it was too late. Santana had found the remote and was holding on for dear life while watching TV, a video clip of Rachel in the bathtub getting pastry cream washed out of her hair cutting off and it flashing back to the Berry men. They worked in silence for a few seconds, cutting up strawberries and blueberries while the different camera angles were shown.

“Hiram, these berries look so delicious,” Leroy said, sly smile on his lips.

“They do. Remember that night when we went to that berry patch?”

“Oh, good times. Do you have the cream?”

“I do, already blended the berries in it and everything.”

“I love a good berry cream.”

Santana was slightly speechless, the innuendo from Rachel's dads making her uncomfortable at this point. She finally surrendered her grip on the remote to her girlfriend, allowing the TV to be shut off. What the hell all did Lima Public show on late night?! And what a way to meet Rachel's dads.

“So your dads...” Santana asked, sitting up and quirking an eyebrow.

“Host a weekly late-night cooking show.”

“Uh, yeah, like an R rated one.”

“No, no,” Rachel sighed. “Just innuendo. It's PG-13 at the most.”

“How the hell did I not know about this?”

“I try to keep it low-key.”

Santana smirked and pulled Rachel back to lay the floor with her – ending up with Rachel on top of her and Santana's hands on Rachel's hips and pulling her in.

“I'm not sure I want to make out with you after this,” Rachel huffed. “You're mean.”

“Who said anything about making out?” Santana grinned, pulling Rachel's hips into her and grinding up. The desired effect was achieved: Rachel was speechless. Bonus points: Rachel lost her arm strength and dropped fully against Santana, lips and all. Santana moaned into the kiss as Rachel rocked her hips.

Was Santana going to push her luck? Oh hell yes.

With Rachel fully engrossed in kissing, Santana slipped her fingertips underneath her girlfriend's shirt and up her sides, fully expecting to be stopped...instead, Rachel pulled their torsos apart and broke the kiss momentarily to nod. It was all the permission Santana needed. Until, of course, she actually got to where she was headed and Rachel cleared her throat.

“What is it, baby?” Santana sighed, trying not to sound exasperated.

“Hm? I didn't say anything, keep going,” Rachel purred, leaning down to nip at Santana's ear.

“Actually, we'd prefer it if you stop.”

Santana wasn't sure who screamed louder, she or Rachel; or exactly how she ended up sitting against a wall far away from where she had been with her hands in the air, eyes darting back and forth between Rachel who was adjusting her shirt and Leroy and Hiram who were standing in the living room with Chinese takeout containers. Well, this was it. She was about to get told never to step in the Berry house again and that she was forbidden from seeing Rachel for the rest of time. Why did her relationship luck suck so bad? Maybe she should become a nun. A really hot nun.

“D-dad, Daddy...why are you home so early? I thought the show was live!”

“Not this week,” Leroy said.

“We had them tape it early so we could surprise you with Chinese. Feels like we haven't seen you in forever, sweetheart.”

“And this is Santana, I presume?”

Santana had no idea when she had shut her eyes to prepare for the crushing blow of a takeout container to her head. But since the impact and hot Asian food never came, she slowly opened her eyes. She was totally going to be met with a death glare, she knew. A death glare followed by a surprise attack of piping hot lo mein.

Okay, it wasn't a death glare. It was stern, though. Very...father-like.

“Santana,” Rachel said, extending a hand to help her girlfriend off the floor. “These are my dads, Leroy and Hiram. Daddy, Dad, this is Santana. My girlfriend.”

“Of three months,” Hiram added. “Well Santana, it is nice to finally meet you.”

“Rachel talks constantly about you,” Leroy chimed in. “Really, it's as if we already know you.”

“I...hi...yeah,” Santana managed to choke out. “Uh. Ni-nice to meet you.” She must have hit her head at some point. Things did not scare Santana Lopez. Not Rachel's insanity or that one time she accidentally set her house on fire. Nothing. Except the two men standing in front of her.

“Is she alright, Rachel?” Leroy stage whispered. “Does she...is she usually like this?”

“Not at all.”

“I just...startled,” Santana stammered. Yep, she had a concussion. “I...there's...um...God, I am so sorry. Please don't ship Rachel off to some foreign country.” Oh look, words. And now Santana sounded more insane than Rachel.

“Well we weren't planning on it,” Leroy said, eyebrow arched. “But we would like to eat the take-out before it gets cold. You're more than welcome to join us.”


“Wonderful,” Hiram chirped. “We'll get the table set if you two will pour drinks, how's that?”

Santana nodded wordlessly, fumbling for Rachel's hand and finally grasping it tightly. Her eyes never left the Berry men as they retreated toward the kitchen. Before she could say or do anything, Hiram stopped and turned with a grin on his face that should've told Santana she was never, ever going to live this night down.

“Oh girls,” he said, “let's try to keep it at first base during dinner, shall we?”

And that was how Santana Lopez met Rachel Berry's two gay dads.

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I shouldn't be laughing this hard, but I am. I'm laughing so hard at this. I can't. The Berry Dads are perfection. Thanks!

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