Title: To the Beat of Our Noisy Hearts
Pairing: Brittany/Santana
Rating: PG-13
Word Count:
Disclaimer: None of the Glee characters belong to me; I'm just borrowing them for a bit.
Summary: [Brittana Baby!Fluff] - "I can't wait to start a family with you," you whisper against Brittany's mouth in-between frenzied kisses.
It hits you, completely out of the blue, at a Glee reunion.
It's another one of Rachel Berry's gatherings – those ones she has just to force the Glee gang to take a moment from their own busy lives and get together to reminisce about their adolescent years and catch up with tales of the present.
Puck, Finn and Sam are gathered around the barbeque, staring down on it with a mixture of confusion and annoyance but mostly fierce determination which you know you'll only crush in a few moments when you shove them all out of the way and light the damn thing without problem.
You're being a little anti-social, standing off beneath a tree and leisurely necking a bottle of beer, watching the Glee girls – Brittany to be more specific; always Brittany – as they move about setting out the long picnic table; plastic plates stacked high and pitches of water being placed in the middle along with the bottles of wine.
It's clear from where you're standing that Rachel's giving some kind of instruction to Quinn and Lauren about how exactly the napkins should be folded, and you can only smirk when you see Quinn's eyes narrow and roll in familiar but affectionate annoyance at her once worst enemy and now best friend.
As you let your gaze trail over to the other end of the picnic table, Brittany catches your eye and smiles brightly, cocking her head ever so slightly to the side as she beckons you over to join in. You slide into the space next to her wordlessly, pressing a kiss to her smiling lips before offering a smile to Mike and Tina sitting opposite and bouncing their three year old son, Max, on their knees.
Brittany's hand falls easily onto your thigh, her thumb softly caressing as she converses with Tina, and you find your eyes drawn down to the rings that encircle her finger. You smile to yourself at the memory of the first – the engagement ring – which left you a nervous wreck for two solid weeks before you managed to work up the courage to ask. And the second, the newest addition – the simple gold wedding band – that never fails to fill you with a kind of utter contentment you hadn't known was possible before Brittany.
There's a tug on your sleeve and suddenly you're drawn out of your thoughts to find the warmest, dark eyes staring back at you, blinking rapidly as a toothy grin forms.
Max pats his tiny little hands against your leg and mumbles, "Up, up."
You shoot Tina and Mike an apprehensive look, but they merely nod their approval and look on at you in amused intrigue. It's Brittany who eases you, squeezing your thigh reassuringly and smiling at you with her eyes.
It's a tad awkward as you smile nervously down at the little boy – you're not used to this, you haven't done this before at all – but then you're scooping him up into your lap, feeling him settle against you and letting his tiny fingers curl and tug at your own as if you're the perfect replacement to a toy.
You know Brittany's eyes are on you, watching on in wonderment, but suddenly all you're aware of is the way Max turns your hand over in his, and then the pressure of a little palm pressed inside your own. Before you can even process what's happening, the air is rushing from your lungs, leaving your chest tight and aching as the rhythmic thud of your heartbeat fills your ears.
You don't sleep well that night; or the one that follows, or even the one after that. You make love to Brittany with a raw, desperate intensity that you're unable to control and hold her against your chest as her breathing evens out and she drifts into peaceful sleep.
It's the hand she has entwined with yours, the one that rests on the flat plane of your stomach and rises and falls with each weighted breath you take that keeps you awake and unable to shut down, encouraging the voice that hasn't left your head since the barbeque; the one that whispers a little louder each day and temps you with thoughts of your future.
You don't know what compels you to do it.
One minute you're staring at your naked reflection, fresh from the shower and regarding all the ways your body has changed since your teenage years – which isn't much, you still look hot as hell but you're curvier now, more filled out and womanly – with your hands tracing down between the valley of your breasts and then slowly across your stomach, fingertips poking and prodding at the toned muscles you find there and sending your body into an overdrive of itching curiosity.
A few moments later you're back at the mirror, this time dressed in old sweats and a tank-top, clutching the cushion between your fingers so tightly that you're knuckles are starting to turn a little white from the tension. With a deep breath, you watch your reflection as one hand pulls at the tank-top while the other pushes the cushion beneath it, and then suddenly there's a different you staring back; one with an uncontainable smile, soft eyes and a protruding stomach.
Your eyes fall down to look at this new extension of your body at the same time as your hands move to smooth over the artificial bump, mesmerised by how peculiarly natural it feels. It isn't until you suddenly become aware of the heat radiating from another body pressed against your back, and a pair of arms wrapping around you as another set of hands join yours, that you look up to see Brittany's reflection staring back at you too.
"You look beautiful," Brittany tells you, her head resting on your shoulder with the most adoring smile gracing her lips.
You feel your face flush in burning embarrassment and shift your eyes away from your reflections. "I look like a crazy person. I don't know what I was thinking."
You try to pull away, wanting to defuse the situation as quickly as possible and declare momentary insanity but Brittany holds you in place and presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder. "You were thinking perfectly," Brittany tells you, her eyes crinkled and warm. "It suits you."
"What, the cushion?" You retort, still feeling humiliated at being caught.
Brittany lets out a low chuckle and shakes her head. "Yes, but no. This suits you," Brittany repeats, letting her hands slide up from their lower place on the cushion to cover yours, her fingers slipping easily in-between your own. "The happy, I've-got-a-baby-growing-inside-of-me glow you've got going on. I like it."
You tilt your head back, turning so you're able to meet Brittany's eyes and stare at her for a long moment before murmuring, "Really?"
Brittany just smiles back at you in that way that never fails to stop your heart, the one that tells you you're all she ever sees; her complete and utter everything, and says, "You're going to make an incredible mom, Santana."
There's tears rolling down your cheeks before you can stop them, but Brittany doesn't seem to mind a single bit when you turn around, pressing yourself onto your tiptoes to kiss her deeply; her hands never straying from your cushion-produced extended stomach.
"I can't wait to start a family with you," you whisper against Brittany's mouth in-between frenzied kisses.
"Good, let's not wait then," Brittany replies, pressing her forehead against yours and nuzzling your noses together.
You don't wait; research is done, doctors are visited and three months later you take a test that confirms you're pregnant.
Neither you nor Brittany sleep that night, instead you lay awake together as Brittany slides down your body and rests her ear against your stomach, pressing kisses into your skin as she introduces herself to the baby, telling stories she remembers from childhood and even making up some of her own.
(Lord Tubbington could totally have his own children's book series, you note amusingly while listening to Brittany's tale of Lord Tubbs visiting Cheeseland).
Pregnancy turns out to be both the best and the worst thing you've ever done to your body. On the one side, you do literally glow, and as your stomach pops and continues to expand and grow, you fall in love a little bit more each minute with the thought of you and Brittany becoming parents. On the flip side, you vomit, your back aches like a bitch, and you start to feel increasing unsexy as the due date comes closer.
You don't know how she does it, but Brittany does everything she possibly can to make the pregnancy easier for you – even when you're being uncontrollably hormonal with mood swings that go from bitchy to weepy in a matter of seconds. She surprises you with the cutest baby clothes and little toys that cause you to weep happily for no reason, and she always remembers to tell you how beautiful you are and how much she loves you, especially on those days you feel the worst.
The moment the baby arrives, you know all those months of happiness and hardship has been worth every single second. As your head falls back against the pillow and you struggle to keep your eyes open, Brittany brushes the hair away from your sweaty forehead, kissing you tenderly, and whispering how proud she is of you as the doctors and nurses check that the baby – your daughter; Lily Lopez-Pierce – is okay.
"Here she is," a nurse with a friendly face beams, approaching you with a tiny bundle in her arms and leaning down to place her into yours.
She's perfect; all tiny, and chubby and beautiful, with a mop of dark hair and olive skin. Her little eyes are closed, fighting to flicker open before shutting again as she gurgles and wriggles ever-so-slightly against you.
"She's amazing," Brittany chokes out beside you, reaching out to gently brush her fingertips down her cheek. Brittany's eyes are filled with tears when her gaze meets yours and she smiles in admiration at you this time. "I don't think I've ever loved you more," Brittany murmurs affectionately. "Thank you for our daughter, Santana, she's perfect."
You use your free arm to tug at Brittany's, pulling at her and silently asking her to join you on the bed. When she does, you feel her lips press against your forehead and you turn your head instinctively, seeking out Brittany's lips and kissing her the only way that will ever come close to telling her just how much you love her.
The day you're released from the hospital, you go upstairs to take a shower and come down to find Brittany asleep on the couch, Lily held in place against her chest and sleeping soundly as she gurgles and snuffles in that unconsciously cute way that you already can't get enough of.
You stand and watch them for a long time, committing the moment to memory – your wife and your daughter; your family – before making your way over and joining them; one arm wrapping around Brittany's shoulders and pulling her into you while your other hand rubs soothing circles on your daughter's back as you let your eyes slip shut to dreams of your perfect family and just how lucky you truly are.