Once again for Jamie/Frank, who requested a fluffy Brittana future!fic in which Britt is a kindergarten teacher. Enjoy. Less-than-three
Brittany loved Fridays. Well, she loved every day – each for its own reason – but she especially loved Fridays. It was the last day of the week she spent in her classroom. That meant in two days, all of her students would return and tell her all about the grand adventures they had in their two days of freedom. Some would tell tales of the park. Others would speak of ballet or tee-ball or swimming or learning to ride a bike. There would be drawings that she would post meticulously on her Wall of Stars and little pebbles and acorns and pretty leaves that she would put in the Nature Jar. Everything they brought her told her a story of their weekend. Meanwhile, while her students went off on their grand adventures, she would get to spend her weekend at home with Santana. Sure, she taught a couple of dance classes to older students in those two days, but that only took up a few hours of the whole two days she had. Every other moment she spent with the woman she loved.
Meanwhile, though, it was still a school day and there was still an hour left of Friday until her students left. Then she would clean up and go home just in time for dinner (it was Santana's night, so that meant it would probably be yummy). "Annabeth, be careful. Don't hold your scissors on that end," she called out, watching the little blonde cautiously. There was already a band-aid on one of her fingers from a similar mistake earlier. Weird, because they were kindergarten scissors, and even Brittany didn't know how the little girl had managed to cut herself. When she heard Brittany, the girl's hand paused midair and she eyed the equipment warily as if just remembering her earlier mistake. It's okay, Annabeth, Brittany thought with a small smile as the girl gingerly lifted the scissors by their thumb loop. You'll find your way. After all, Brittany had- and this girl kind of reminded her of herself.
"You have to hold them like this, Annabeth." Beside the little fair-haired girl, Candice Rhymes demonstrated with her own purple kindergarten scissors, cutting neatly along one side of the star she'd colored yellow earlier. Annabeth bit her lip and tried to concentrate on the other girl's strategy, but it was obvious Candice was interested more in showing off her talent than helping. Annabeth didn't mind. She liked everyone in her class and was an easy girl to get along with. She needed a little extra help here and there, but she was happy. Brittany loved her class. They were sweet kids, and it never failed to amuse her how much she saw herself and her friends in the children. She looked from the arts and crafts table to the play mat where two young boys built a lego city. Or, well. One built it while the other bade roaring sounds and crashed a giant toy dinosaur through it. Neither seemed bothered by the game, so she let them play- they kind of reminded her of Puck and Finn.
"Ow!"
Well okay, they were mostly sweet kids. Brittany looked back to the arts and crafts table. Candice sat in her chair still, but she was rubbing her arm and glaring indignantly at a little redheaded girl who now stood between her chair and Annabeth's. Rory. Rory was Annabeth's very best friend, and secretly Brittany's favorite. Not that she treated her special or anything, but secretly the hard-to-handle child who reminded her so much of Santana held a soft spot in Brittany's heart. The two girls had their heads bent close together as the redheaded girl helped Annabeth with the proper way to use her scissors. The blonde watched with devout attention, her eyes wide and solemn as her "bestest best friend" guided her hand and scissors over the paper. "You do it like this, Anna," she heard the girl whisper with infinite patience. Watching them, Brittany forgot for a moment she was teaching this class, not observing a memory. She stepped forward, an eyebrow lifting (a trick Santana had taught her to look more intimidating) as her gaze swept over the three girls.
"Rory."
"Huh?" She looked up, her little face contorting into defiant lines before her teacher could even say anything. "I didn't do anything."
"Pinching isn't 'nothing'. It's pinching," Brittany said calmly, accurately guessing what had happened between the trio. All three pairs of eyes went wide. The good thing about teaching the little kids was that they were bad liars (which was good because Brittany wasn't really good with lies) and that they still believed things like the eyes on the back of the head or silly things like that. "And pinching isn't nice. So Rory-"
"B-but Candice stuck her tongue out at me," Annabeth interjected weakly, and Brittany paused to reevaluate the situation. It wasn't that the tongue thing justified the pinching that Rory was known for. It was more that the whole thing had suddenly tossed her back about twenty years to her own kindergarten class. Santana had been her best friend then, and she had been as defensive of her as Rory was of Annabeth. The parallel to herself, her best friend, and even Rachel Berry had her mind reeling for a moment before she shook it off and smiled serenely at the three girls. They all watched her with various forms of anticipation, waiting for her to make everything in their world right again. Their absolute faith and trust in her never failed to humble Brittany.
"Rory, I think you need to apologize to Candice for pinching her," she said at last.
"But-"
"And Candice, I think you owe Annabeth an apology as well, don't you?" The addition had Rory pausing and considering her, as if judging whether or not to deem her worthy. They went through this ritual a lot and Brittany always won. After all, she knew how to handle kids like the little redhead across from her.
"She has to say sorry to Anna first," the girl said at last, voice stubborn. Her arms crossed her tiny chest as she waited, hard eyes focused on Candice. The other girl sighed dramatically, as if it were a hardship, and then gave the little blonde her grandest apology. It was accepted with a smile and Rory, after receiving a look from both Brittany and Annabeth, muttered an apology in return. When Rory allowed her to help both her and Annabeth with their cleanup later, Brittany decided it was a successful day.
Nothing beat going back to a warm house, though. As soon as she stepped through the door, tossing her keys down on the small table beside it, the warmth and comfort wrapped around her like a blanket. For a moment she simply stood, absorbing the feel of being home. "San?"
"In here, Britt."
Brittany followed the voice of her very favorite person, humming in appreciation at the smell that greeted her when she stepped in the kitchen. "Hey," she murmured as she crossed to Santana, her arms sliding around her waist from behind, settling on her stomach. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss onto her shoulder, then nuzzled her thick hair aside to sprinkle a few more over her neck. "Smells good."
"Hi," Santana returned in wry amusement. A hand continued to stir whatever was in the pot while the other dropped down and covered one of Brittany's. "It's not much, just stew. I figured I'd stick with just the stove today. Too sore to bend over." The statement was followed closely by a sound that resembled a purr, the Latina leaning back and closing her eyes as long, slim fingers massaged her neck. "Mmm. God, I missed you. Can you just stay home forever and do that all day?" Brittany giggled and nuzzled into Santana's neck as she worked the opposite shoulder, lips pressing to her pulse.
"Soon we'll be home together all day for like weeks. You'll get sick of me."
"I'll never get sick of you." Brittany smiled against Santana's neck, her arms relaxing as the brunette shifted in them to turn around in order to face her. Brittany was still smiling and Santana smirked in return, leaning up to press their lips softly together. "Hi," she mumbled against Brittany's mouth before kissing her again.
"Hi," Brittany replied when they broke apart again, laughing as she framed Santana's face between her hands and brushed their noses together in an affectionate Eskimo kiss. Her wife's nose wrinkled slightly, but she was still smiling as she combed slender fingers through blonde curls. "How are we today?" the blonde asked after a silent moment of just soaking in each other's presence, thumb stroking gently over the curve of the shorter woman's cheek. A worried expression creased her brow as she studied Santana for signs of strain. "You said you were sore."
"We are fine." Santana rolled her dark eyes, turning back to the stove to stir the stew some more. "We ate like a herd of fucking cows today and then got hungry for stew. And naturally my nap time was spent being restless. Just how the world works." She paused and glanced over her shoulder and Brittany could see the small smile on her lips. "But we're really good, Britt." The smile bloomed slowly, easing away the worried expression into one of absolute awe, and just a hint of that sweet nervousness Santana found endearing (most of the time).
"We're so close now," Brittany whispered, her arms wrapping around Santana against as her fingers traced random shapes on her stomach. "Only a couple more weeks, San. Then we'll be…"
"A family." Santana's hand covered Brittany's again, their fingers tracing together slowly over the bulge of her belly. When the baby stirred, Santana closed her eyes and pressed her hand down, forcing the blonde's to lay flat against her stomach as their child kicked up against their hands. She felt Brittany jolt and heard the small sound of glee she made as her other hand flattened against the opposite side of Santana's stomach. She could feel her wife bouncing on her toes behind her, excited about the little creature that would soon be theirs.
"Hello in there, baby Gabrielle," Brittany crooned, gently stroking. "Come out and meet your mommies soon, little girl. We're so excited to meet you."
Santana softened at the words her wife whispered, her eyes closing as she leaned back into the embrace. Brittany swayed them gently, humming a lullaby against Santana's ear as her fingers continued to trail gentle patterns against her rounded middle. It had been scary, thinking about starting a family. Now, though, the Latina was certain they were doing exactly what they were meant to be doing. Sometimes she had doubts at her ability to be a parent, but whatever she lacked, Brittany made up for. Brittany, she was certain, would be the most wonderful mother in the history of mothers. "Sometimes it doesn't seem fair that I love you this much," she whispered a few minutes later. "I mean, I've gotta be hogging all the love in the world to feel this fucking much. I took everyone else's share."
Brittany giggled and kissed the side of Santana's black curls before resting her cheek against the top of her head. "You didn't get mine," she pointed out. "I just hope you have some left over for little Gabrielle."
"She already has a shit ton of it," Santana teased in return. "How was school today, by the way?"
"School was school. Rory pinched Candice because Candice stuck her tongue out at Annabeth."
The Latina snorted out a laugh, nudging Brittany's hands away so she could stir their dinner before it burned. "Little badass. Good for her," Santana claimed, lifting a spoonful of stew to her lips to taste. She dipped it in a second time and offered it to Brittany automatically, allowing her to sample. Such was their habit. "I hope she got a good one in."
"San, that isn't nice." A brief pause. "She got her pretty good. Maybe I should have given her a time out."
"You haven't given me a time out in forever," Santana said wryly, smirking to herself as she turned the heat off under the pot and began scooping the meal into two bowls.
Brittany giggled and smoothed a hand down the brunette's back, sending her a wink as she snagged her bowl and headed for the living room for dinner eating, movie watching, and couch snuggling. "Maybe when you're not full of a baby."
"Our baby," Santana whispered to herself, closing her eyes as she pressed her own hand to her protruding belly. No, she never imagined she'd be pregnant. She'd never thought she would have a real relationship or fall in love or get married, either, but here she was- twenty-five, pregnant, about to eat some stew and watch TV with her wife. The world was definitely funny that way. "Hurry the fuck up, Gabrielle." The words were more affectionate than harsh as she rubbed her stomach in slow circles. "I wants to get my mack on with your mama." And then she was walking to the living room to join Brittany on the couch.