A bit of Pezberry fluff I wrote for a friend earlier in the year, hope you enjoy.
Santana is sporting the mother of all scowls on her face by the time she unlocked the front door to her home.
"Stupid snow and stupid kids," she muttered as she took off her scarf and coat to hang up in the foyer closet. "Little smartasses...," she grumbled under her breath as she proceeded to take off her boots to leave the by the door.
"You know people say that talking to yourself is the first sign of mental instability, right? Should I be concerned?"
She immediately perked up at the voice coming from behind her. "Rach, hey babe," she smiled as she turned and walked to gather the love of her life into a tight hug.
"Welcome home, love," Rachel said. "Are you alright? What's with the muttering and cursing innocent children?" she asked as she combed some of Santana's hair back with her fingers.
Santana sighed at the touch but was quick to scowl again. "I hate kids," she said seriously, as she looked down at the other woman.
"No you don't," Rachel replied, amused.
"I do," she said adamantly. "I hate kids; they're annoying and they throw snowballs at me... little devil spawns...," she grumbled again.
"Honey, we have two kids and another one on the way," Rachel said as she rubbed fondly at her protruding belly. "You love them."
"That's different," Santana said.
"Different how?"
"They're our devil spawns."
"Santana," Rachel gave an exasperated laugh. "Just because people referred to you as 'Satan' in high school does not mean you are Satan, okay? And don't call our children 'devil spawn', they're still young; their sponge-brains will absorb it if they hear you say that and they'll grow up thinking that they're evil and their Mami is the devil," she said sternly.
"At least the other kids will know not to mess with them," Santana smirked.
"Santana!"
"Geez, I was kidding," Santana put up her hands in surrender as she backed up into the lounge room, not wanting to incur the wrath of her hormonal wife.
"You're so juvenile, I sometimes question why I married you in the first place," Rachel huffed with her hands on her hips.
"Because I'm a sex goddess in bed and always give you amazing foot rubs when I'm home?" Santana replied and patted her lap from her place on the couch.
"... Well, I guess you have some uses after all," Rachel said as she happily waddled to the lounge and threw her feet up onto her wife's lap. "I think I'll keep you around for a little bit longer," she groaned appreciatively as Santana started rubbing Rachel's feet with her amazing skills.
Santana snorted. "Of course you will."
The happy couple sat in content silence as Santana massaged Rachel's feet and sore ankles.
Santana smiled at the happy sighs coming from her wife, "So how was your day, babe?"
"Oh, the usual; making sure the place doesn't burn to the ground with your kids running amok around the house."
"Why are they my kids when they're misbehaving?" Santana asked.
"You insist on them being our devil spawn, so they're your little trouble-making devils."
Rachel laughed at Santana's scowl.
"How about you? How was your day?" Rachel asked as she tapped Santana's stomach with the side of her foot.
"Horrible," Santana said immediately. "First, the heater in my room broke for, like, two hours- you'd think private schools would have better funding but no," she started. "Secondly, I was put on playground duty in the freaking snow and it was so damn cold and the little monsters thought it would be hilarious to pelt snowballs at me the whole of lunch and wouldn't stop even when I threatened to give them detention; I hate kids," she whined while Rachel grinned at Santana's rant.
"Santana, you chose to become an elementary school teacher, you can't hate kids," Rachel said.
"I can when the little barbarians attack me, okay?"
"Aw, come on, they're not that bad," Rachel said as she sat up to cuddle up against her wife. "Remember all the drawings they made you for your birthday? That was sweet and adorable."
"... Fine," Santana acquiesced. "It also helps that I got the little bastards back with some snowballs of my own," she grinned.
"Santana, you did not attack children!" Rachel said disbelievingly.
"Ah, don't worry babe," Santana wrapped her up in a snug embrace. "They had fun, I got my revenge; we all had a ball."
"If you say so," Rachel said. "If they run up to me the next time I visit you, crying about how Mrs Berry-Lopez was being mean then you'll be in a world of trouble, missy," Rachel eyed her accusingly.
"Psht, they already do that because I don't give them enough play time," Santana waved off her empty threat and started to rub Rachel's stomach.
Rachel watched as Santana spoke to her stomach in a hushed voice, occasionally nodding and smiling as if their unborn child was replying to her.
The silence was disturbed by a thump from upstairs and their daughter's call, "Moooooom, Teddy won't let me play with his toys!"
"Tattletale!" they heard their son yell.
Both women looked towards the stairs where they could hear the commotion coming from the level above.
"Teddy, you share your toys with your sister or I will come up there and give them to her myself and you can sit in the corner and watch her play with them!" Santana barked at the stairs.
"Mami's home!" they heard the kids cry happily followed by the sound of their thundering footsteps downstairs.
"Theodore Michael, Isabelle Jane!" Rachel yelled. "How many times have I told you not to run down the stairs? You'll fall and crack your little heads open!" she admonished as the skidded to a stop at the couch.
"Sorry," the twins apologised with matching sheepish grins.
"Now, what's the matter, children?" Rachel asked when they've calmed down.
"Teddy won't share his toys," Isabelle quickly said.
"They're boy toys and you're a girl, you can't play with them," the boy said.
"Teddy, boys and girls can play with whatever toys they want so you and your sister play together or I won't let you play at all, comprende mijo?" Santana said sternly.
"Fine," Teddy pouted.
"What was that?" Santana asked, "Because I know my darling little boy did not just reply rudely to me."
"Lo siento, mami," Teddy said. "I'll share my toys with Belle."
"That's my good little man," Santana said. "Now go wash up and get ready for dinner."
"Can we help?" her son piped up.
"Yeah, can we help you mami?" Isabelle chimed in.
"Sure you can kids, go wash your hands and you can help your mami," Rachel said.
"Yay!" the kids cheered, giving Rachel hugs before they sprinted off to clean up.
"You know the kitchen is going to be a disaster with them in there, right?" Santana asked seriously.
"That's okay because you and your little devils will clean up afterwards," Rachel smiled.
Santana let out an exaggerated sigh as she got up.
"C'mon mami!"
"Mami, can we make lasagne?"
"You know what, Rach?" Santana asked as she smiled at the kids beckoning her from the kitchen.
Rachel hummed.
"They can never be little devils, not with you as their mom."
With the added pregnancy hormones, making her more prone to emotional outbursts, she almost dissolved into tears. Her wife is just too much sometimes.
"Besides, no one can be evil with 'Berry' in their name- not intimidating at all," she scoffed and shook her head.
Rachel just laughed as she followed her wife into the kitchen where their kids are already ransacking the fridge, pulling out random items that they probably wouldn't need for dinner. Even with Santana constantly joking about their kids being little devils, she disagrees; there's nothing devious about her Merry Berry Bunch at all- they're her little angels.
Though she will think otherwise come next winter when she comes home to her wife and twins chasing down the kids' screaming Aunt Quinn across the front lawn, snowballs in hand as their youngest daughter and sibling waddled after them, squealing with glee.