Here’s the thing, Santana hates cats. She truly does loathes them, it all started on her first sleepover with Brittany. That fucking mammoth feline, Lord Tubbington, puked in her shoes, her book bag and inside her jacket. It was a war between them that lasted 7 years until the fat spawn of Satan finally died of what Brittany said was lung cancer. Santana thought it just died from being an evil sack of shit. And sure, maybe she shouldn't have said that out loud and still expected Brittany to be her girlfriend, but things happen and that's all in the past now anyway.
So when she passes the alleyway just before her townhouse’s entrance, she doesn’t pay much attention to the weak little meow that sounds. Rachel on the hand stops dead in her tracks, which in turns stops Santana seeing that they’re holding hands and all.
“Did you hear that?” Rachel asks peering into the darkly light alleyway. Santana makes a mental note to talk to a maintenance company about getting some lights installed as she turns to look at Rachel before looking towards the alley. Seriously, her wife gets home late, a little extra light can never be a bad thing in a city like New York, even on the Upper East Side.
“Hear what?” she replies, kind upset that she’s being delayed in getting her fucking hot wife up the stairs and into their massive California king bed. Why Rachel demanded the extra four inches for her 5’2” ass is beyond Santana, but she knows better then to ask… again. The couch is stunning to look at really, but hell on her back and Rachel will not hesitate to send her there for a short joke… again.
Before Rachel can say anything else, a weak little meow reaches both their ears and Santana is being tugged further towards the ally, knowing damn well that that was a cat. She also knows what’s going to happened next, Rachel will take one look at the creature and demand that they help it, goddamnit. Rachel pulls out her iPhone and turns on the flashlight app on her camera flash, illuminating a path for her to walk and drag Santana behind her.
A slight gasp draws her attention forward to the lighted pathway and she's faced with a little black kitten no more then 6 inches tall, staring at Rachel and her with big sad doe eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, is all Santana can think, even before Rachel turns to her, she knows Rachel's own big sad doe eyes and pouty lips will mean that little terror is coming home with them. She knows it and she knows that Rachel knows that she knows it too, but she's not going to fold that easily. If she's going to have to live with that little monster, she's damn well going to get something out of it.
"Three conditions Rachel, three, if that thing is coming home with us" Santana states even as Rachel starts nodding her head frantically, smiling widely as she turns and slowly starts reaching for the kitten, who just sits there, giving off another little pitiful meow until Rachel has it cupped and pressed against her chest. And damn that's an adorable sight, the kitten is purring softly, curling its self into a small ball as Rachel gently runs her hand down its back. But Santana's not fooled, she knows that thing is going to turn out just like Lord Sack of Shit, only now Rachel and her own a very large closet of designer clothes and shoes for it to terrorize.
"One, that is your cat, you clean the litter box." Rachel just nods her head, like that was a given. And really Santana remembers Mr. and Mrs. Nicky and Fanny Ferret before they passed. Rachel always took care of the maintenance for those funny little guys. Who Santana actually misses and the way Rachel is looking at that kitten, she can tell she misses them also. Rachel's dads were weirdly allergic to everything but ferrets, Santana might have called bullshit if those two men didn't love Rachel as much as they did.
"Two, I get to pick out this year's Halloween costumes." Rachel pouts harder and starts to open her mouth but stops at Santana's raised eyebrow and pointed look at the kitten in her hands. Rachel just huffs a little and throws out a reluctant "Fine." Ok, so it's like this, it not that Rachel's picks the last 4 years were that bad, but she's tired of the Broadway theme they have going on here. First it was Elphaba and Fiyero and then Nellie and Emile.
Year three at the new party location, it was Christine and Erik, and fuck what Kurt thought. Santana rocked that mask and cape like a badass motherfucker and Rachel's screams of pleasure that night were enough to get them their first noise complaint from their super at the time. Also a good thing, they don't see much of Kurt anymore, 'cause no lie, the attitude he spits towards her wife is not worth the moments when they get along like Babs and Judy. It's not Rach's fault he can't play a believable male lead, it's his lack of talent that lands him in the chorus all the time.
Last year's was Fanny and Nick, which Santana thought for sure it was going to be the first year, but Rachel said she wanted to play Fanny Brice on stage before showing up to Blaine and now Sebastian’s annual costume party, not wanting to jinx herself. This year though, there's going to be some serious hotness going on, with a little HG and Myka thrown into the mix. Her wife is ridiculously hot in a suit and with a (fake) gun holstered to her, Jesus fuck, Santana can't wait.
"Lastly," Santana pauses a little, she knows this request will have to be fought for "I get to pick the next five themes for Fantasy Night." She's wasn't wrong, before she even finished her sentence Rachel started shaking her head.
"No, absolutely not it's not fair Santana, that's extortion and I won't stand for it." Rachel said staring her wife down.
Santana just stared back, before saying "OK, the next four themes."
"Three themes or put the demon back down."
"Fine, three themes that must be presented all together and I get one veto. And don't call her a demon again, you'll hurt her feelings."
"Three themes, one veto, but no pre presentation, that ruins the surprise. And she can't understand English Rach she'll be fine."
"Deal, shake on it."
"Fuck that, c'mere and give a kiss."
Rachel smiling softly, moves closer and leans up slightly as Santana wraps her arms around her wife and captures her bottom lip, nipping lightly and moaning lowly as Rachel slips her tongue out to caress Santana's top lip. She pulls Rachel into a tighter embrace and gets a little lost in her wife, pulling back only when the now loudly purring kitten's tail brushes her arm.
Cockblocker or really Pussyblocker, Santana thinks before she sighs and slowly releases her wife to pull out her iPhone and search for the nearest 24 hour vet, no way that thing is getting into her apartment without a checkup first. She says as much to Rachel only to watch her wife laugh and turn her attention back to the kitten. After a quick walk three blocks down and two avenues over they arrive at the vet’s office and Santana opens the door for Rachel and the kitten. The kitten that still needs a name and fuck if Rachel’s not gonna go crazy with that.
They walk towards the receptionist’s desk who is staring at them in shock, or rather at Rachel in stock. Sometimes Santana forgets that Rachel is a somewhat household name, especially in New York since her stint in Funny Girl and last month’s SNL performance. The girl behind the desk is obviously a fan and Santana is slightly impressed when the girl shakes herself out of her stupor and stands to greet them when they stop at the desk. Some of Rachel’s fans are not so composed and end up crying messes or end up being really fucking crazy nut-jobs. Of course there was also that one month period when Rachel was staring in South Pacific that Jacob Ben Israel thought it would be a good idea to stalk her wife. Santana didn’t think it was such a good idea and her boss, the Police Commissioner didn’t think so either, hence his 15-25 year sentence for terroristic threatening at Rikers Island.
“Mrs. Lopez it’s so wonderfully to see you, what can we do for you tonight?” the girl asks face all bright.
As Rachel starts explaining the whole kitten fiasco that they currently find themselves in, with a wildly waving hand and dramatic pauses interlaced that the receptionist is clearly eating up, Santana can only smile softly at her wife, it never gets old hearing Rachel referred to as Mrs. Lopez.
She’s not sure what made Rachel decide to take her name, but she knows it centers around the time Santana’s very conservative parents came up to the city with Leroy and Hiram after the girls announced their engagement over Skype. Her parents took Rachel out to some fancy restaurant, while Santana and the Berry men went gay bar hopping in the meatpacking district to bond over the fact that the girls were getting married.
She woke up the next morning with a splitting head-ache and glitter everywhere only to be met with the declaration from Rachel that she was going to change her name to Lopez, Santana could only rollover and flop an arm over her girl in response, 7am was really way to early for that kind of conversation.
She tunes back in as Rachel’s story is winding down and the receptionist takes the kitten from Rachel's hands to take it in the back for a checkup and a quick bath. She just looks at Rachel when they’re asked for a name for the kitten and Rachel glances at Santana before turning back to the girl and saying “Isis.”
Santana’s mouth drops open a little bit, because only one person in the world knows she secretly loves Catwoman. And only one person knows she owns all the seasons of Batman: The Animated Series on DVD. The same person who is currently leading her over to the waiting area with a smug look on her face.
Santana’s dumbfounded expression slides into a little pout and she cuts her eyes at her wife.
“It’s not going to work, you know?”
“What’s not going to work Santana?”
“Naming her Isis isn’t going to make me like her.”
“I hate cats, you know that. Just because you named her Isis doesn’t means she not going to be a little terror and mess up the apartment.”
“Seriously, Rachel cats are evil creatures sent to watch as we die. No one ever named a cat Lassie caused it saved some dumb bitch that got stuck in the well. The fucking cat probably pushed Timmy down that fucking well. I’m never going to like it.”
“Stop saying that, it’s not gonna happen, so whatever scenario you created in your mind-space, just forget about it.” Santana huffs as she crosses her arms and slumps down into the chair.
Rachel just reaches over and pulls gently on her elbow until she can intwine their arms and lean her head up against her wife’s shoulder, her other hand reaches up to push her hair back behind her ear. Quietly as they stare at the opposite wall Rachel whispers “San?”
Santana leans her head against the top of Rachel’s head, wigging slightly until she’s into a more comfortable position, “yeah babe?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too babe.”