A/N: Okay. This is the prologue, just the prologue. I hope you like it?

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee/characters, just lots of accumulated thoughts…


That Awkward Moment When 2


Three months ago, Amsterdam….

Will Smith's 'Miami' was shaking the DJ's speakers and everyone's eardrums, but Santana was too busy getting the mouth-to-mouth (also known as kissing) plus some 'betcha wants my body' tongue from Brittany to give a shit that her ears would ache the next day. Brittany was making her see stars with her eyes closed… Or that could have been the gay nightclub's strobe lights, but whatever. This kiss was the bomb, so much so that her eyelids couldn't even detain that shit.

"I'm disappointed with the lack of Dutch music in here," Brittany's mouth says, no longer on her mouth.

"Yeah totally," Santana mumbles dazedly before going back in for a taste of those insanely addictive lips. She opens her mouth more and tilts her head, pulling Brittany in even closer by the hips while Brittany's hands cup along her jaw and neck with firm grip.

Honeymoon Rule #1: Get your mack on

"Wait," Brittany backs off again, clearly knowing very well how much she was torturing Santana with these intervals (since she was smirking all evil), "we should go back to our hotel first. It's starting to smell in here."

"But-" Santana's protest was cut off as a dancing body (that did indeed smell) whacked her in the back and propelled her further into Brittany's body. "Okay, fine. Let's go."

Honeymoon Rule #2: Seclusion to get your mack on (preferably somewhere with pleasant smells)

She turns around and maneuvers her way off the dance floor, with Brittany's hands firmly on her shoulders to follow her out (and give her body the occasional direction-shove) to grab their coats from coat-check and stumble onto the street and away from the gay festivities of a gay Dutch nightclub.

They start walking in the direction of their hotel, which is only five minutes away but on this chilly night five minutes too far (in Santana's sexy high-heeled opinion – these boots were not made for walking), ignoring people on the street that tried to single out tourists and try to sell stuff.

"Actually, before we uh… I wanted to talk to you about something?" Brittany asks her hopefully, failing to sound confident about this request.

Santana side-eyes Brittany curiously – there are not many things Brittany has ever talked about with such timid-ness. Especially not these days when they had been together long enough to skip a lot of the tiptoeing and speak with the art of bluntness.

Even sex is like that, now. Like: You want to do it or just snuggle tonight? They are extremely good at communicating with one another. They even have hand signals.

"You've been very thoughtful today, since we FaceTimed your parents," she says cautiously, trying to fish Brittany to talk about whatever she wants to talk about.

"Right. And… that's what I want to talk about," Brittany says, even more softly.

It barely reaches Santana's ears, and it alerts her into understanding Brittany's really anxious about this 'topic.'

Santana stares harder at Brittany, trying to figure out her reticence before looping their arms together for warmth and encouragement as they continue walking, "talk about what? You miss everyone? Your parents, your cat, your sis… in that order?"

Brittany laughs and speaks with her usual confidence this time, "not really, I've been having way too much fun with you to miss them. You missing anyone?"

"Sepp, a little," Santana confesses. "I mean, I'm having the time of my life with you but he's stuck in that boarding school so I feel bad about it. I thought it was a good fit but he told me in an e-mail that he doesn't like his Math teacher."

"That's just one teacher, though, he likes all the other teachers so don't sweat it. Plus, Mom and Dad are looking out for him… and Gracie, too. I hear he plays a lot of videogames in his room, so I think he's having a blast." Brittany says to her with a leaning-in shoulder bump. "And I won' be mad if you want to let in how much you miss work. I saw you buy that history of law book in England."

"It had a nice leather bound and would make for a cool office decoration! Okay fine, I miss work a little, you know how much I like using my superior mind to fight for someone's rights or to just win and be the best. But… I also wouldn't be opposed to another destination? I'm having way too much fun with you, too." Her offer is left hanging with a sly kiss to Brittany's jacket's shoulder (it was a really soft jacket, okay, she likes to nuzzle it some) as they wait for the crosswalk light. It makes Brittany giggle before they start to cross the street.

"So Lopez the Explorers is officially on," Brittany says with a serious nod.

She's referring to the fact that their honeymoon was supposed to be two weeks in Europe… Three months ago. Brittany changed that, though.

Since Brittany didn't want their honeymoon to end she convinced Santana to extend the initial Greece stay to other parts of Europe. Three months in Europe was coming to an end now, with this Amsterdam weekend. They hadn't bought tickets home yet because they talked about going to Asia or South America next instead. Both of them didn't want it to end just yet, and Santana could see them easily squeeze another month together.

"I want to go to Peru," Brittany looks back at her. "But first Hong Kong. Maybe even India. Oh! You wanted to go to Tokyo."

Or two months.

"Damn it, we just need to make a list and do it all," Santana says with excitement – this traveling bug was a lot of fun and she's never been much of a traveler before but now she's married, has money in the bank, and a wife who is the best companion and encourages her to explore. She was totally fine with continuing to see the world through Brittany's eyes, and she was learning a whole lot of shit about the world and herself which was cool.

"Yeah? Awesome," Brittany says with a warm smile.

"Should be fun," Santana continues, thinking of more traveling, and then realizes Brittany is still acting nervous. Why was she so nervous to bring up a longer honeymoon?

"Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

They've entered the warmth of the hotel lobby now, and Brittany shakes her head. So then that wasn't what she wanted to talk about after all.

Santana's eyebrows raise in suspicion – the only other thing she can think of is-

"YAAAAAAHHH!" A little blonde boy screeches, impersonating what Santana thins is either a dinosaur or one of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and runs through the lobby. Behind him his father yells at him in Dutch.

- kids.

Shudder.

"No that wasn't what I wanted to talk about… and by the way we have to pretend we were never in England on our honeymoon because otherwise my Aunt will flip shit and say we're terrible people who ignored her when really we didn't want to stay with her cuz then she'd spy on us all the time and it would mean no sex… or fun."

"It's our secret, then… but I'm better at keeping secrets if my lips are attached to your lips… Just putting that out there." Santana says as nonchalantly as possible while pressing for the elevator. It opens immediately, which makes her feel real suave.

Brittany attaches their lips without delay when the doors close behind them, and then she very seriously admits to what exactly it is she's been thinking about.

"I feel like we're more solid than ever together, now that we've spent more time than ever before together and are still in love, you know? Like in changing environments and stuff, and, well, Santana… I… I want…" Brittany chews her lip, "I totally used the word 'ever' too much. Ugh."

Santana isn't an idiot and she knows where Brittany is going with this because she has a feeling she knows what Brittany wants and even though it's making her heart beat really fast in the non-sexy way and her mind conjure up scenarios she's totally not ready for (screw you little Dutch boy who runs through lobbies), she tries to be as supportive as possible by not allowing her nerves to show on her face. This was some serious shit they were getting into, in this Amsterdam hotel elevator, and she had to be open and communicative.

"You want kids."

Brittany exhales and her shoulders drop some tension, thankful Santana was able to speak the words she seemed to trip over, "yeah. I want kids. And you've got adoption papers ready for Sepp when we get back, and he's a great son to have but… I want a baby."

Nodding thoughtfully, Santana whispers (mostly to herself), "a baby."

"Yeah. Like, I've always wanted a baby – they are so cute and perfect – but the desire has just gotten even stronger, and especially to have one with you because I think together we'd make great parents…"

So it was her own fault for being so damn awesome, Santana thinks.

Brittany gives her an even more serious look adding, "the urge is just getting stronger everyday I'm with you… I really want one. I was thinking that, I could look into it?"

The sincere hope on Brittany's face is like nothing Santana has seen before. There was no way she'd be able to deny that face anything.

She's Santana Lopez, she ain't afraid of no unborn baby. Bring it on, little fetus-fucker. Post-fetus-fucker? Whatever.

She turns to Brittany and says, "babies look cuter the more I'm exposed to them I guess, and I haven't made any kids cry since the park that one time-"

The elevator doors open, and Brittany keeps on staring at her in earnest hope.

"- and yes. We can most definitely look into having a baby—mf!"

Brittany is already pulling her into a kiss again, wrapping her arms securely around Santana's neck and holding her face captive in that familiar hold that lets Brittany be in total control of making out with her face. When she's let go, Santana finds Brittany's happiness overflowing and can't help but laugh in joy with her even though she knows this decision is going to fuck with her brain some more later. Brittany has always wanted kids and Santana has never truly been sure, but she wasn't against the idea so much as afraid of failing.

While she had long since taken charge of her life, it was a personal struggle of hers to think of being in charge of a baby - a baby who will grow into something she helped mold. A baby who she, Anger Management Fucking Platinum Member, will parent.

That poor, unborn fetus. It's 'fucker' title will be her legacy. Aw, shit.

"This is – we need to go celebrate!" Brittany claps and jumps, tugging Santana out of the elevator.

But, Brittany's dream just came true before her very eyes in that moment which made her feel great for responding in a way that gave Brittany such delight. She could totally Mom it up some. Totally. Santana Mother Lopez would be her middle name she'd be so damn mother-like.

"I'm so excited!" Brittany cheers even further, now lifting Santana up and spinning her around before dropping her to do a cartwheel in the hallway of their floor and executing some celebration dance moves.

Okay so, Brittany really wanted a baby.

/

One day-ish ago, Hawaii…

This here was paradise. Santana had a nice coconut filled with rum and yum-yum pink juice, a bamboo straw leading the concoction to her lips (the little blue umbrella making it extra fun to drink from), and a sight that made her jaw drop open and her fingers lift her large Gucci glasses up for proper admiration.

Her inner monologue is speechless right now, because there's some Baywatch shit going on.

From the ocean a body emerges, all bright pink string bikini clad 'hubba-hubba' and fit. It was Brittany, obviously, because no one was that hot except Brittany and because Brittany's blonde hair was as unmistakable as her walk.

Brittany flipped her head to make the wet strands of hair move away from her face, and she greeted Santana with a sexy grin.

"You drunk crying because you're already done your fifth coconut thingie or because the sun winning staring contests again?"

"You're too beautiful for my eyes and now they know it," Santana says, her mouth pursing now that it was suspect she was drunk. Also, Brittany didn't need to know this was her seventh drink.

With a giggle, Brittany grabs her hotel beach towel she left on the shore lounger next to the one Santana was reclined on and dried her body off. Then she sits down on the space left between the end of Santana's chair and Santana's hip.

"You need to let me finish this one," she takes the coconut from Santana's hands and then leans in as if she was going for a kiss.

Santana's lips part, ready and willing, only for the anticipation to get slapped in the face when Brittany pauses her follow-through with a smirk and takes a long sip of the punch instead.

"Tease," Santana pouts, disappointed (and now on the verge to cry).

"You're the one who said we should enjoy the beach when I wanted to stay in our room. It had beach view. Deal with it."

Santana laughs, especially since it was backwards for Brittany to admit she enjoyed the expensive view of their expensive room.

"Twisting my own words against me… I knew we weren't strong enough to overcome marital disputes. I'm filing for irreconcilable differences and not enough kisses."

Brittany rolls her eyes at Santana's lame joke and then gives her a good, rough kiss with her lips and tongue reminding Santana about their reconcilable differences and exceptional kisses.

Santana moans when their tongues meet and they both break the kiss off with matching grins. Reconcilable to the max.

"Suddenly sober, huh, babe?" Brittany teases, not at all minding the way frisky fingers tug gently at her pink bikini bottoms or possessive eyes rake over her fine, divine, sublime, body.

Santana is incredibly turned on and gulps from the words Brittany breathed into her ear.

"Britt…"

"So let's maybe walk around and explore Honolulu?"

"Nooooo. Let's do each other."

"Let's do both?" Brittany suggests, her lips close over the straw again, and she looks down with fluttering lashes at Santana.

"Fine."

When more tears escape Santana's eyes, Brittany leans forward and kisses her forehead.

"Why don't you nap off your drinks, sweetie?"

"Its just, they tasted so delicious I had to have another," Santana excuses herself with a mumble before closing her eyes and enjoying the beach and sun's warmth. "Like your kisses."

Brittany finishes the punch and puts the empty coconut on the table nearby, rubbing a hand up Santana's smooth leg she had stretched out with a tender smile before deciding to cuddle into her to share the nap. She kissed a shoulder before sighing into Santana's neck, and laid out on her side with a gaze on the sunny Pacific Ocean horizon.

/

It was true when people said you 'don't really know someone until you married them.'

Or, in Santana's case, go on a honeymoon with them.

There's just something really different about marriage, and she thought she knew whom she was marrying but… things get revealed.

Like, they had a breathtaking romance that cultivated in an epic love (according to Brittany's drunk poetry) but being alone for all hours of the day while on a honeymoon that ended up taking six months of just the two of them ended up making them know each other in various new ways.

It was surprisingly educative, is what she's saying.

Santana had no clue Brittany liked James bond movies, for example. Something they had in common that just never came up in conversation. Santana loved James Bond movies because she watched them with her grandmother all the time while chopping onions for cooking. Her late grandfather had them on DVD and Santana found all Bond girls exceptionally hot while she was going through her secret gay-emotions realization thing. Brittany's mom apparently was a huge fan of all men who played James Bond so Brittany watched them with her mom, and while Brittany admitted a few bond girls were hot, she mostly had a fascination with the poetic fate of villains. Anyways, they talked about their mutual film affection when their plane from Hong Kong got delayed five hours.

Other things she learned about Brittany included her knowledge of first aid (they both saved that guy on their London tour whose diabetes almost killed him), her ability to make stupid things sound fun (never again, Santana was never flying a kite ever again!), and her love of art (the most expensive thing Brittany bought on their trip was a copy of a Wassily Kandinsky, shipping included).

Initially there was some push-and-pull between them with traveling since Brittany wanted to be more impulsive and free with some backpacking authentic experiences she called 'winging it' (she did this by playing 'eenie meenie' with bus maps), and Santana's vacation list was relatively small with the following requirements: five-star restaurants and hotels, Brittany nearby in a bikini with some massage oil, and drinks on trays with first-class plane tickets ready. But, Brittany was right. It wasn't everyday you traveled the world with a hot wife so you might as well hit a museum here and there and buy a camera for all the sightseeing.

What surprised Santana was how much fun she had exploring… she had never been the adventurer type – high stress situations were advised by all her anger management councilors as things to avoid (and anything out of her routine stressed her)– but stress was minimum with Brittany around, smiling her exclusive smile and keeping a cool head even when shit went down because Brittany had her back (and her on her back).

Shit like when Brittany tried to get Santana to learn how to drive a motorcycle in Bolivia and the motorcycle fell of a dangerous cliff (and since there were no witnesses they pretended it was stolen when the rental agency asked – a criminal act they were taking to their graves after role-playing criminally hot lawbreakers), or when Santana got pick-pocketed in Athens (they started busking and made enough for one cup of coffee – Greece was a country with insane economic problems), or when they got stuck on the ski lift in Switzerland for two hours and had their first honeymoon fight (about who would jump off to get help and who would stay behind in case it started again) followed by hot fireplace makeup sex where Santana kind of, sort of, totally pulled a back muscle.

But, that was mostly healed, so…

Anyways, with a bit of both of their tastes and a lot of sex (except for when her back throbbed hardcore), their honeymoon was fabulous.

"No, stop it! My stomach hurts…" Santana has to breathe out between wheezing and choking through her laughter – Brittany was hilarious.

"She was- she was like OH SHIT a Koala!" Brittany is in hysterics as well, the both of them rolling around on the sand and unable to stop laughing at the memory of a particular woman, a total stranger, who mistook a raccoon for a Koala during their earlier walk around Honolulu – the ultimate final destination of their epic honeymoon being this Hawaii resort.

Tomorrow was their return flight home and it was the end to The Most Wonderful Vacation of Boobs, the fantasy of a lifetime.

Eventually after their laughter dwindles and then bursts out again because Santana impersonates the same face as the woman, it settles into giggles and Brittany is the first to let out a sigh of bittersweet symphony. They've been spending their last night enjoying the stars, lying down in the warm sand and letting the beach winds tussle their hair some.

Brittany's never seen Santana so relaxed before, as she has been during their time together these past few months, and Brittany has never felt so relaxed herself either. It was just them and no work, no worries, no pressure.

"You know, these six months have been the best time of my entire life – can it get better than this?" Santana is the one who says it, looking exactly how Brittany feels, which is wondrous.

"We should do this every year," Brittany says, rolling her body over on the sand and closer to Santana so she could kiss her cheek.

"What? Take six months off and travel?" Santana says, lifting her body up on her elbows and watching Brittany start to play with the sand, drawing hearts and squiggles. The sight of her long blonde hair flying in the beach wind was breathtaking, especially in the starlight when she was wearing that white beach dress.

"Totally. Except next time we'll have a baby."

Santana's laugh this time is nervous. Brittany looks at her, smiling. She then moves her upper body over Santana and smiles down at her before kissing her lips softly.

The moonlight is gorgeous and bright, the perfect scenery for some honeymoon macking.

Santana curls a hand up between her shoulders, and the kisses they share occupy ten minutes of their time.

When Brittany breaks it off to stare at her, Santana knows she's being analyzed. Brittany wanted to be sure she was ready before doing anything about it. 'It' being kids.

They were going to have a baby pretty damn soon since Brittany had made her desires known, and while Santana had already agreed to it she was still nervous about the impending reality of it all.

Like, how to make sure the baby bottle is sterile and when exactly do babies grow? Overnight?

"If you're having second thoughts-"

"No, not having second thoughts," Santana promises. She lifts her hand to brush some sand from Brittany's arm and then collapses back into lying down, wondering if she would be good at it. Her. A mother.

She thought she'd been through this with her mind, already, but it was apparently a wuss.

"Santana."

"Okay, I was having second thoughts but I've decided to do this, honest… I'm just nervous is all. It's a huge responsibility."

She was still hesitant to be a parent, she wasn't as ready as Brittany was, but she was committed to see this shit through. She does mental prep every night since she agreed while she brushes her teeth, imaging all the changes and measures having a baby will take on her life.

Buy a crib, buy cute baby clothes, take kickboxing… puree everything into baby food, keep the diapers stocked, exercise more, learn to sing lullabies…

Basically, she was more committed than ever to do this baby shit on account of all the mental energy she's put into getting ready. She was Santana Lopez, she could totally burp a baby and whatever the fuck else. Just try her.

Hold a baby? Yeah she looked up the proper ways to hold it. Really not that hard. You just hold it and support it's head.

And if it cried? She was all ready to wake up and attend to it. She had experience with small bouts of sleep back when she worked all the time. Little sleep was no problem, buying the right baby monitor might prove challenging though…

"Even so, I want to tell you what I think. I think you'll surprise yourself and you should trust my confidence in you."

Brittany did have a point… Until she remembered Brittany also thought she could drive a motorcycle and that fell off a cliff when they were in Bolivia. Like, she let go of the handles and it just skid off. Fact.

Brittany kisses her again, like she knows Santana is thinking too much, and then she sighs happily.

"The fact that you take this so seriously is why you're perfect. I have faith in you."

And the reassurance is actually, very calming after all. Screw the motorcycle thing, a motorcycle was not a baby.

"Thanks."

God, just how many times was her mind going to go back and forth on this? Why couldn't is just chill out?

They stare at the night sky together, and Santana takes a deep breath. Paradise smells amazing, when she ignores the large baby elephant.

"I want to go back, but I also don't want to go back…" Santana says after a moment's cuddling under the stars. She wants to comb a hand through Brittany's hair but her hands are full of sand and Brittany didn't like sand in her hair.

"I know, me too… lets take one last selfie before we go back to our room," Brittany suggests, and then sits up while grabbing her camera bag from the side.

Smiling, Santana rolls onto her stomach and then leans her head down on Brittany's shoulder to smile with her into the reverse-pointing camera.

They stand up and brush sand off. Brittany puts her camera, purchased factory-prce in Japan, back in it's carrying bag.

"I wants to get my mack on," Santana urges out when she realizes Brittany is still fumbling with her camera bag strap and not next to her, walking back to the hotel.

Brittany runs up to her and grabs her arm, leading her in a giggling jog back up the beach to where the hotel was lit up in lights. They slow down and make out a little near a palm tree, because the tree had their 'S+B' carved onto it from Santana's diamond necklace while they were drunk there the night before. They also took another selfie with the tree, now affectionately named 'Tree.'

"How's your back?" Brittany asks before getting too carried away with Santana's lips and body.

Considering their honeymoon gave them a lot of time together which meant a lot of sex together, day after day, injuries had happened. Scratches, muscle aches and strains… Brittany's theory was the closer they got to the equator the rougher the sex. It got beyond passionate when they were fucking in Peru.

But Santana's back sprain during fireplace sex had been pretty bad – she didn't even get to orgasm because it hurt so much.

"It's much better, promise. That Asian Tiger Balm worked really well. Let's just, uh, stop in the lobby before we head up to bed, babe. We still got to settle our transport to the airport tomorrow."

Brittany whispers to her as they enter the lobby, "Still going to make sure tonight you stay on it, just to make sure."

It's a forewarning Santana can't verbally respond to. She's way too turned on just thinking about it and has to collect herself before going to the reception desk.

(There was the silver lining in hurting your back and that silver lining was called Get Comfortable and Let Your Blonde Wife 'Take Care' of You. It was pretty great.)

Santana clears her throat at the garcon when she can move her legs again, "hi."

"Hi, Mrs. Lopez. Hope you enjoyed your day and the live music at dinner. How can I help you?"

The music was meh, but she has had a productive evening. Getting her mack on, agreeing to have a baby once more, getting her mack on next to Tree… it was accumulating into a rather successful marriage.

"We need a cab," she turns her head, suddenly realizing Brittany's hand was no longer in her hand, to notice Brittany was entranced with the large aquarium. Taking this opportunity to secretly splurge since Brittany wasn't there to reason that a normal cab was adequate, she then leans into him to whisper, "make that a limo, to take us to the airport at ten in the morning."

"Of course," he entered this into his computer, "is that all?"

"Uh, can we have champagne sent to the room tonight, and we'll take breakfast to go with the limo in the morning."

"Done. I've charged all these services to your card, if there are any issues please let us know. The champagne will be there shortly, have a lovely evening."

"Evening."

This was da' bomb. Five-star service, Brittany in utter happiness and ready to fuck her all night long, and not to mention her skin which developed a natural glow from all the Vitamin D she soaked in the sun.

/

Present Day, Honeymoon officially over…

Santana gave Ritza (she was pretty sure that was the woman's name) a nod as the janitor waved at her before going back to yelling at the guy in the suit who had spilled his coffee on the polished marble floors of the courthouse. They were cool ever since the power went out in the courthouse a while back and Santana let Ritza eat the free donut provided for lawyers. Ritza never knew Santana didn't eat donuts and considered this a grand enough sacrifice to deserve a nod whenever they made eye contact.

Oh, courthouse. How she kind of sort of missed the energy pulsing in here. Where Ritza was always policing the spotlessness of everything and someone was always crying because they either lost a case or found out Aunt Janine lied about being away for the weekend and really was locked up in a hotel room with your husband. Classic Cougar Aunt Janine.

"When I get out of jail I WILL KILL YOU!"

Oh, how good it was to be back in the thick of excitement. Fresh and ready to win some arguments, make some of the money back that got sucked into traveling expenses, and wear a freshly ironed shirt.

"NOT IF I KILL ME FIRST!"

"You can just never let an ARGUMENT DROP, you BITCH!"

She slips into the courtroom she's meant to be in, her leather satchel all polished like her black leather stilleots, and overhears Judge Trent Warbler speak to her client.

"Where is your lawyer-"

"Your honour," she announces her arrival, holding a hand out for Becky who's sitting in the benches and has a file at the ready to place in it, "sorry I'm late."

She totally choreographed that cool entrance with Becky while she was in the cab over here from her apartment. It worked just as she imagined and made her look really cool, the bailiff even nodded in appreciation.

"Lopez!" The Judge smiles warmly at her, "I can only assume that if you're late you're one of the few people who actually has a good reason. I find myself not nearly as mad as I was thirty seconds ago. Also, how is your health? There have been… whispers."

The defense attorney Hunter Clarington snorts loudly, "I think we should proceed Your Honour, not welcome back Lopez from the dead."

"The dead?" Santana drops her satchel next to her sweating, nervous client on their side of the courtroom (neckbrace chick?) who looks ready to barf, and then turns around to give Becky an offended look, "you told people I was dead?"

"NO. Since you were away I also went away. To Disneyland. I think Clarice from taxes made it up."

Taxes. The gossip vultures.

"There was a rumour," Judge Warbler explains, "glad to see it was a false one. Where were you, then, if you don't mind me asking? Your face is… bruised."

"Since the other rumour was jail due to drug connections," Hunter pipes in again.

Santana gives her courtroom foe a withering glare. "I was on my honeymoon. Just got back last night, actually."

"And why is your face all black and blue?" Hunter smirks at her, saying it with amusement and snark. "Is honeymoon code for-"

"Go back to blowing whistles with your running mouth, Hunter," Santana snaps back at him. "This is from a suitcase my father-in-law flung at me when he slipped on ice. And it's really not that blue, is it?"

"It's not that noticeable," Neckbrace client offers comfortingly. Which is not entirely comforting from someone in a neckbrace.

"Winter, the season of accidents and lawsuits," Judge Warbler sighs, reminiscing his own slip on ice just that morning. He needed shoes with better grip. "Have a minute to collect yourself and then we'll begin."

"You're actually married?" Hunter's eyes widen and then stare at her. "Congratulations, I guess."

"Thanks," she smirks at him and then taps her finger on the folder while skim-reading it, "Becky, you refer to our client as 'Neckbrace' in all these files, what's her actual name?"

Neckbrace opens her mouth to say "it's-"

Becky crosses her arms, "I don't fucking know! I can go back to the office now, right?"

She waves Becky away.

An hour later, Hunter is clinking his shot of amaretto against hers and then they're both knocking them back.

"So, tell me about your husband," he says to her.

"My wife, Brittany. She's pretty."

He raises an eyebrow, "no shit."

"What do you mean?"

"So those rumours are true?"

"Where do you hear all these fucking 'rumours' from, anyways?"

"Well, at your office specifically, his name was Eugene. He worked the copy machine. He was my number one for a while but he's dropped to number four… anyways, he said you fucked HP's daughter."

"HP?"

"Your firm's head honcho? Horton Pierce? Say, is it true he's retiring? Will that leave a nice selection of lawyer-less clients?"

"Stay away from our clients, leech."

Hunter scoffs at her, "I will find out! So, tell me tell me. You taking over Pierce&Evans or what?"

Santana shrugs, "that's my cue to leave. It was as lovely as ever defeating you in court, Clarington. Next time!"

"Bye!"

She leaves some money for her drink on the bar top and shoulders her satchel before leaving the 'lawyer' bar most lawyers used after court. She starts the long walk to Pierce&Evans instead of grabbing a cab, it wasn't as icy as last night.

She catches a glimpse of her face in a cafeteria window and sighs.

Five stitches on the cheek and some bruising because 'HP' slipped on ice. The poor guy was in extreme pain with his tailbone bruised and all, but Santana was now more convinced than ever that her face was doomed with annual injury. At least it wasn't the nose this time. Just lots of blood…

When she gets to the elevator, she takes in a deep breath. There wasn't much else to do today except prep for her week and get back into the swing of meetings. She hoped Becky made sure her office was cleaned properly while she had been away.

The elevator doors open and she steps out. It was nice to know she still had the best office strut that made heads turn (since everyone stopped and stared as she trekked across the floor to her office). She had one of those asses.

"Really, Becky? You've started eating king-size chocolate bars since I've been gone?"

Becky frowns and puts her Oh Henry down, "fuck you. Neckbrace left you a thank-you card, right here."

Santana sighs and swipes the card from the corner of Becky's desk before going to her own office door, opening it.

"Oh, and Brittany called." Becky adds quickly.

"Great, start with that next time. I'm married now, you know! Go eat some vegetables." She ignores the finger given to her and enters her office with a sigh – ah, the smell of her Badassery Headquarters (also known as her cool office).

She sits on her swivel chair and spins once before grabbing her office phone and speed dialing for Brittany's cell.

"Yo," Brittany's voice greets her, "this is Brittany, don't leave a message just call me back later."

She hangs up and is frowning a little until her office door opens and Brittany is the intruder.

Well, hello there.

"Hey I was just calling," Santana stands up and meets her halfway, leaning in for a cheek kiss, "is that for me?"

"Yeah I made you a sandwich."

"You made it." Her voice doesn't hide her disbelief at all.

Brittany drops the Ziploc contained sandwich on her desk and then pulls Santana in by her suit jacket for a make out sesh, not at all insulted with the fact that Santana's face at the thought of her making a sandwich was one of 'please God no.'

With a reluctant breakaway from the super hot makings of Brittany's very capable tongue, Santana whispers, "I'm at work and Becky is right outside…"

Brittany licks her lip and then nods behind her, "I closed the blinds, see?"

"Britt…" Santana's smiling at her with amusement now, "we literally flew back in last night, the honeymoon is over."

"Yeah but, the stitches held up while I just gave you that moment of ecstasy." She says the last word with a long drawl and gently presses her thumb to Santana's sutured cheek. She giggles at 'moment of ecstasy' because that was her favourite Santana quote of their honeymoon.

With a groan, Santana has to say, "you're never going to let me forget that, are you."

"Come on," Brittany presses another quick kiss to her lips, "we didn't do much us time in Hawaii last week because you pulled your back and drank rum punch on the beach all day… and you never had to wear a sexy suit like this when we were on our honeymoon, I missed it… thinking about it made me want it."

"Babe," Santana holds her breath as Brittany's fingers slowly undo the button of her white blouse closest to her cleavage.

"Come on, Becky went home sick."

"Ugh, no she didn't."

Brittany pleads one last time, "I made you a sandwich, I came all this way, and I'm wet as f-"

"What the hell!"

They both spring apart and, after the initial surprise, turn to glare at the new intruder.

"Really, you close the blinds but forget to lock the door?" Gracie Pierce yell-whispers at them and then pushes the door shut behind her.

Quickly spinning around, Santana does up the undone button and then gestures to her couch, "want me to make Becky get us-"

Becky pokes her head in at this point to say, "I'm going home sick. Deal with it. Later, Brittany."

"Bye Becky!" Brittany waves the blonde away and then sighs under her breath about how Becky was supposed to have gone home sick already.

Santana rolls her eyes at her wife and whispers to her, "really? My secretary is on your attempt for afternoon delight?"

"It would have been the perfect plan," Brittany explains unapologetically before turning to her sister, "did you need Santana for something?"

"Yes and no," Gracie leans back on the leather couch. "I saw you from my office, Brittany. You've had Santana for six months, aren't you sick of her?"

"Hey!" Santana says, mildly offended, "six-months too short, Tinky Winky. No one is sick of anyone."

She shares a dopey look with Brittany after saying it, and Gracie rolls her eyes at them.

"Aaaaaanyways, heard you've already got a settlement for Stern. Nice, first day back and straight to court and winning with stitches in your face… this place was boring without you."

"Stern who?"

"Jordan Stern? Your client with the fractured neck because her gymnast coerced her into dangerous techniques?"

"Ah, yes, Neckbrace." Santana nods seriously, "poor girl. Hopefully that settlement eases the neck pain and the fact that she almost died from extreme aerobic cataclysm. That was my closing statement, Judge Warbler was applauding me with his eyes."

"You're so cool," Brittany says admiringly before she shifts uncomfortably, trying to keep her thighs together.

"Speaking of pain, how's your…." Gracie gestures to her own cheek area with a sympathetic smile.

"It's fine. It only hurts when I touch it directly."

"Or when I touch directly," Brittany says, still a little perturbed her plan of seduction fell through on account of her little sister needing attention.

"How's your dad?" Santana chooses to ask, now grabbing her Ziploc sandwich and eyeing it carefully. There's no way Brittany could fuck up a sandwich, right? She made it so thoughtfully… Santana wanted to eat it.

"He's passed out on T3's," Brittany says.

"He feels so bad about that," Gracie adds, looking apologetically at her sister-in-law. "But he enjoyed mom's caretaking last night."

"Gross," Santana says, as Brittany makes a gagging sound.

"Not like that! Ew, no. NO."

"You can't unsay that shit, G."

"I'm not in the mood anymore, Santana…" Brittany whispers to her apologetically before turning to her sister, "you want to play Crazy 8's and have sister time?"

"Yes!" Gracie says with a smile, "later, Santana."

As the two sisters leave her office, Santana goes back to her desk to unwrap and eat her sandwich and then notices, "Where the hell is my laptop?"

/

"Yes… yes I was away for personal reasons… okay, thank you. Oh? I was on my honeymoon… uh-huh…. Mercedes, you were invited to the wedding. You were touring… look, come by my office Saturday I'll be there. Okay. I'm hanging up now – bye!"

Santana groans and tosses her phone on the coffee table next to her.

"Now, where were we?" She puts her head back above Brittany's breasts and resumes her cuddle zone.

It takes two minutes for her to realize Brittany is annoyed.

"What?"

"You're working Saturday?"

"Yes, I gots to make meeting time for all my clients on account of ditching work to giddy-up all over the world."

Brittany looks down at her and blinks, slowly.

Santana knew them blinks by heart nowadays. That was a level five blink, also known as the 'Santana Lopez you aren't getting a kiss anytime soon' blink.

"What?"

"It's nothing… I remember my wife saying she'd never work Saturdays ever again, is all… but that must have been my other wife."

"Brittany, babe, come on," Santana sits up and now feels like shit, "I told you I'd have to catch up with all my clients, and Mercedes is especially desperate because she needs legal advice on some slander thing. It's just for a little while, and then things will go back to how they were before… and Saturdays will be off the table except for emergencies."

"No, I get that Santana. It's just, I thought you'd remember that this Saturday we have an appointment with Dr… Dr… shit, I forget their name…"

"We have a – oh. OH." Santana's eyes go wide with recognition, "I… forgot about that?"

Brittany squints at her, "you… forgot?"

"Totally just… wow, I actually forgot about it."

Brittany doesn't seem mad anymore, just a little scared now as she moves forward and touches her hand to Santana's forehead as if checking for a fever, "you forgot?"

"I must have?"

"You never forget anything though!" Brittany says, now pulling Santana in for a comforting hug, "oh, honey, either that suitcase Dad whipped at you was harder than we thought or you must be so nervous... How many times will it take for you to get it, you have nothing to freak out about."

"I'm not freaking out," Santana denies, but enjoys the comfort provided from this comfort-giving hug all the same. "Am I?"

"It's either that or I forgot to tell you but, I remember telling you and I don't think that was a dream…"

They both look at each other oddly, now unsure who forgot what, and Santana chooses then to just say, "well, what time is our appointment?"

"At two."

"I'll be there."