As the two women climb the stairs to the door of apartment 18A, Santana grumbles, not for the first time, "It's seven in the fucking morning. On a fucking Saturday for fucksake."
"Baby, calmate," Brittany murmurs, passing her palm down Santana's bare arm and bringing her fingers to rest around the shorter woman's wrist. Santana's annoyance breaks for a second as she muses to herself that at least Mr. Shue's educational efforts hadn't gone to waste on this one. Even with Brittany's distinctive white girl accent, her use of Spanish is usually accurate, and always hot. "I'm sure Quinn wouldn't have called us if this wasn't important."
"Well," Santana starts up again, Brittany's adorableness bringing only a momentary lapse in her irritation, "she didn't sound upset on the phone, so this better be fucking amazing." She jabs her finger at the doorbell, then shifts into her best "What the fuck" posture, cocking one hip to the side and crossing her arms over her chest. She's barely had time to plaster a scowl on her face when the door flies open, revealing their two best friends wearing, no shit, matching pajamas and wide, excited grins.
"You've got to be kidding me," Santana sneers, her eyes travelling to the tops of Quinn and Rachel's heads. "Did you two literally braid each other's hair last night? God, you are so gay."
Brittany turns to admonish her grumpy girlfriend and remind her who else is so gay, but doesn't have time before Quinn blurts out, "I'm pregnant!"
Santana sees Rachel's face flash, just for an instant, into an exasperated look that says, "Well, there goes my well-rehearsed, impeccably emotional monologue," but almost immediately she's beaming again and pulling Brittany and Santana though the door. The four women stumble inside the apartment in the throes of a group hug, Brittany excitedly planting a kiss on Quinn's cheek and Santana just sort of shuffling along, a stunned look on her face.
"Guys, that's, that's amazing!" Brittany says, her arms still wrapped around Quinn. She lifts her head to look at Santana, asking with wide eyes why she hadn't spoken yet. Her glance shakes Santana out of her state of shock.
"Yeah," she says breathlessly, her mind waking up and catching up to the situation. "I just can't believe it, I wasn't expecting that, but yeah, that's amazing! You're gonna be moms!" Brittany smiles at her, and in one facial expression, she thanks Santana for her attitude adjustment and asks if she's really happy about the news, or just being nice. Santana smiles back reassuringly. She is happy, just caught way off guard.
"When did you find out?" Santana asks.
"Just now, stupid, why'd you think we called you so early?" Quinn quips, her hands sliding instinctively to her belly.
"Wow," Brittany begins again, but just smiles, looking back and forth between the two moms-to-be. The four women settle onto a couch and loveseat and talk for a few more minutes, Santana joking about ridiculous baby names, Brittany imagining out loud how cute all the baby's clothes will be, and Quinn and Rachel gazing at each other lovingly. After the initial excitement dies down, Santana stifles a yawn, and Rachel jumps up.
"Oh my gosh, I didn't even offer you – we have coffee! Not for Mama Q obviously, but for you two. And I'm making pancakes to celebrate!" and dashes off into the kitchen. Brittany giggles and gets up to follow her. "Let me help, Rach, I'm really good at making pancake shapes." Quinn and Santana smile as they watch their respective lovers head into the next room.
"This really is great news, and I'm so excited for you, Mama Q," Santana says to her best friend. Even with the joke, her statement is sincere, and Quinn knows it. Quinn smiles and reaches out for Santana's hand. "I still can't believe you and Rachel are having a baby," Santana continues, but bites down on the last part of the sentence that formed unconsciously – before me and Britt.
After a scrumptious meal of animal-shaped blueberry pancakes, Santana suggests that they should leave Rachel and Quinn to plan their Broadway-themed nursery. The friends exchange hugs and smiles and congratulations once more and Santana and Brittany head out the door hand in hand. Outside, Santana leans over and buries her face in the blonde's silky hair, bringing her mouth up to Brittany's ear. "Let's get home," she whispers, "we have work to do."
"What do you mean? It's Saturday, as you reminded me many times this morning," Brittany pouts.
"We have to practice making babies, so we can catch up with those two," Santana smiles the words into Brittany's warm cheek.
"That's not how it works with two-" Brittany starts to protest the logic of Santana's suggestion, then realizes she's missed the point of her partner's proposition. "What? Babies? Us? I thought you weren't ready?"
"Well," Santana says, stepping in front of Brittany and circling her arms around her lover's waist, "if our kids and their kids are gonna be best friends, we need to get on it." She pulls Brittany close so that their hips are together, and the taller woman brings her hands up to tangle in Santana's hair. "Brittany S. Pierce, I'm going to love you for the rest of my life. We're going to love our kids, and we're going to be great moms. I'm ready if you are."
Brittany moves her hands to the sides of Santana's face, her bright blue eyes sparkling and her open mouth curling into a surprised but excited smile. Santana has her answer even before Brittany says simply, "Yes," and pulls Santana in for a long, sensual, promise-filled kiss.