Quinn held her growing stomach with her bandaged hand; she was lost in her thoughts and stared outside the window, where a gray gloom painted the skies. She listened speckles of rain beating on glass as it synchronized with the beating of her broken heart. "Three months," she silently thought to herself, "I read somewhere I should be showing around three months," she looked down to where her injured hand was and sighed in sadness as she realized she would be the size of a blimp in due time.
"Hey," a voice broke Quinn's reverie and she looked up to meet Santana's warm brown eyes, "stop it," she softly chastised, "stop thinking so much," as if she saw what was stirring in Quinn's mind. As if she could read the worried lines that formed on Quinn's face when she stared off into space like she does when she was beating herself up over something. She sat down next to Quinn on the bed and put her hand over Quinn's hand that held her stomach, "How's little Quinnie?" Santana leaned her forehead against Quinn's temple; a gesture that spoke Santana's thoughts, "I wish I could just take your pain away," she silently thought, wishing that her skin could just absorb all of the misery Quinn was holding in.
It was only a few nights ago that Quinn's parents had coldly thrown her out; no place to go and no one to turn to. But Santana was her refugee; her savior. The Lopez's took the broken girl under their wing and took her in as their own. Maribel and Ricardo Lopez watched the quiet, small girl, grow into a gorgeous, beautiful young lady, who still held the same timidness and the same quiet quality, but held more wisdom, poise and responsibility than most girls her age. They loved Quinn, despite her flaws, her insecurities and her mistakes. Quinn grew up with Santana, calling Maribel and Ricardo, Mami and Papi Lopez. They didn't hesitate one second, when they received their daughter's frantic call to pick them up from the Fabray household, nor did they need an explanation. They accepted Quinn, no words, questions or empty gestures needed for the girl to feel at home and to feel like part of the family, without having to ask. Quinn was grateful for Santana, to say the least.
"How do you know it's a girl?" Quinn replied softly to Santana's question, gazing at her pale, almost ghostly skin, against Santana's olive, warm hand. The sight warmed her heart and gave her a sense of ease.
Santana shrugged, moving her head from Quinn's temple to her shoulder and laid there comfortably, "I just have a feeling," she smiled quietly to herself, her hand never leaving Quinn's.
The girls heard a soft knock against the open door, and found Maribel Lopez standing at the doorway when they both looked up, "Hey girls," she greeted cheerily, walking in with a plate of what looked like sliced mangos and pineapples in her hand, "thought you could use a healthy snack," she walked towards them and sat on the edge of the bed as well, placing the plate down. The girls turned to face her immediately and Santana did not hesitate to dig into her mother's provided snacks; however, Quinn stayed put, not even eyeing the plate.
"Quinn, honey, aren't you hungry? You haven't eaten anything since that piece of toast this morning, and it's now four o'clock," Maribel asked with a concerned look on her face.
Quinn shook her head as politely as she could, "No thank you, Mami," she replied stiffly.
"Quinn, come on it's your favorite!" Santana commented, she held a piece of pineapple teasingly in front of Quinn's face, trying to feed her.
Quinn moved her face away from the tempting fruit, "No, really, I'm okay," she pushed Santana's hand away, or at least tried to, "Santana quit it!" she barked moodily as Santana persisted on pushing the fruit in her face.
"Mija," Maribel scolded in a motherly tone towards Quinn, "starving yourself is no good for that baby of yours or your own health for that matter."
Quinn looked at her with her wide green, hazel speckled eyes. Her few days there, they had never actually discussed the reason as to why her parents had disowned her and kicked her out. She shot a frantic look at Santana, as if sending a telepathic message, "Why did you tell them?!"
Santana read the look on her face and put her arms up in defense, "Hey don't look at me that way, I didn't tell her!" she hopped of the bed, crossing her arms.
Maribel placed a gentle hand on Quinn's hand, "A mother always knows, Mija," she winked at her and squeezed Quinn's hand in reassurance, "Don't worry, sweetie, we're going to take care of you. We are your family, always have been, always will be," she scooted closer to Quinn, "Whatever you need, we'll provide," she placed her other hand behind Quinn's head, and pulled her in gently for a kiss on the forehead.
Quinn felt weak, as if her neck no longer had the strength to hold her head up and her forehead fell against Maribel's shoulder. She began to sob profusely, overwhelmed by love and warmth that she was never grew accustomed to at home. She was so used to bottling everything up, sealing the lid and placing all her emotions in a freezer where coldness found its way to heart. The concept of a family was foreign to her; the thought of someone loving her regardless of faults was a far-fetched concept and when she finally felt something of the sort, she didn't know how to handle it with grace. So she stained Maribel's shirt with tears, but for once not tears of anguish and pain, but tears of joy. Santana shortly joined the hug, putting her arms behind Quinn and resting her chin on Quinn's shoulder. How was Quinn so lucky to have people love her beyond her imperfections and forgive her for her stupid blunders? She cried even harder as she felt love enter her heart, as if the embraces were radiating affection through the Lopez women's skin.
Three more months passed, but it didn't make the pregnancy, the stares or the loneliness any easier on Quinn. Her mood swings, though they occurred less often, were sharper and snappier. Though her gag reflex had calmed down quite significantly, her sense of smell was still impeccable. She could smell Santana light years away and could pin point what room she was exactly in at home or at school, through her wafting smell of Japanese Cherry Blossom scented lotion and/or sometimes body spray. And despite the fact that she found herself emotional sometimes, having triggers like watching Disney movies with Santana and Brittany, she no longer flooded with tears from feeling shards of broken pieces poking at her ribs. On occasions, when she was reminded that her body was no longer the same or recalled the night her mother and father disowned her, an inevitable desolation and heartache wrapped around her heart, squeezing her sorrowful tears out, but Santana or Mami Lopez were always there to wipe them away. And in the those passed three months of pregnancy, she had grown this secret dependency on Santana; as if she always needed her at her side. When she found herself alone, separated from the luscious Latina in class or at home, she longed for the soft caress of Santana's cinnamon-stained skin to reassure her that she certainly wasn't alone. Quinn always needed her reassurance that she wasn't going to leave; it was a closet clinginess she kept to herself.
But in some events, the pregnant, hormone-filled teenager, found herself wanting to strangle her best friend and Santana inevitably sometimes felt the same. Being roommates was certainly different from being just friends. Santana found it inconvenient when Quinn would be restless at night and feel the need to crawl in her bed. The body heat from the pregnant girl was unbearable and the way she tossed and turned trying to find a comfortable position resulted in Santana's aggravated grunts and very sleepless eyes at 6AM Cheerios practice. Quinn found it irritating that Santana seemed to always have "company" over when her parents were gone at work or doing something else. In an unfortunate event when Quinn walked in on Santana on top of one of the football players, they agreed upon a system in which Santana placed a green scrunchie on the door knob when she was being "accompanied" by someone else. That green scrunchie was on the door knob a lot, to say the least. One time, Brittany quietly walked out of the room after Quinn waited patiently for Santana's houseguest to leave. Quinn only gaped at the sight, waved silently at Brittany and when she walked into the room, she found Santana fluffing up her pillows and making her bed. When she asked Santana about it, Santana replied with a quiet shrug, and said, "It's Brittany," as if the decision was that simple to make. It didn't make Quinn uncomfortable; actually it made her a little curious, but when the thought brushed her mind, she always pushed her sexual frustrations away, blaming her raging hormones due to pregnancy and her adolescent stage.
Santana and Quinn shared Santana's room, which didn't help the growing tension between them. Despite the large room, being able to fit two queen-sized beds (Santana's parents decided that Quinn would need a lot of sleeping space throughout her pregnancy) and the two teenaged girls' endless amount of clothes, make-up and extensive skin-care and hair products, the room still wasn't big enough to ease the antagonism in the air. Santana and Quinn were both on edge, finding frustrations in every action the other girl committed. They were doing homework after school one day in their bedroom in their respective corners on separate beds. Santana had her earphones in, singing her heart out to each line and Quinn was going mad as she gritted her teeth in annoyance, throwing daggers at Santana through her glare.
"I'm in love with a stripper!" Santana sang out loud, bobbing her head while laying on her stomach, reading her history textbook. She was completely oblivious to the angry blonde across form her, "She poppin', she rollin', she climbin' that pole and -" she snapped her fingers to the beat, "I'm in love with a - HEY!" A pillow coming from Quinn's side of the bedroom hit her in the face and interrupted her singing, "What's your problem, preggers?!" Santana snapped, pulling her earphones off in anger and getting up off her stomach.
"Shut up! Just shut up!" Quinn screamed back, "Do you ever just shut up?!" she had reached her breaking point.
"Why are you so uptight!" Santana shouted back, now standing beside her bed, ready for a verbal battle, "It's not my fault you only listen to crap like Coldplay and Taylor Swift!"
"And all you listen to are songs about strippers and hoes!" Quinn's anger had reached a boiling point. It was the level of irritability where hurtful words could potentially accidentally slip, "Are you singing about your future career?!" she slipped.
Santana stared at her with a raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed and had an expression of shock on her face, as if saying "Did you really just say that?" through her facial demeanor. "Callate el osico gordota!" she cursed in Spanish, "You know what, if you weren't pregnant I would have slapped you so hard into another country!"
"Where?!" Quinn quickly snarled, "To your homeland?!" she was now standing up too, flailing her arms around.
Santana's eyes burned with flames; had Quinn not been her best friend, she may very well be six feet under. She held her composure though, and exhaled an aggravated sigh, with a clenched jaw and balled up fists. She stared Quinn down, but Quinn kept her ground, her green eyes, angry as well. Santana decided to be a better person and stomped out the room, but not before slamming the door shut, making Quinn jolt a little at the loud noise. Finally, silence to Quinn's ears. Quinn could finally think for once and hear her own thoughts.
After the fight, the two girls didn't speak one word to each other for the rest of the night or for all of the next day. If they had, their anger may have escalated into violence. Santana came home after Cheerios practice to an empty house. "Hello?" she called out as she shut the door behind her. No one replied. She was relieved. As much as she loved Quinn and their friendship, it was nice to finally be alone. She forgot what it was like to come home and be able to breathe her own air without the worry of bursting someone's bubble. She walked over to a black grand piano and sat down as she placed her backpack on the floor making a soft "thump". She ran her hands through the dusty cover of the piano; it had been a while since she'd played. With Cheerios practice, maintaining a 3.8 GPA, ruling William McKinley High School with a strict reign, and keeping Quinn safe, she barely had time for anything else.
Santana slowly lifted the cover as the wood slowly creaked open. It was a welcoming sound to her ears as if it were saying "Hello again, old friend." She smiled at the black and white keys before her. She pressed one key, and after that, began to create a symphony of notes that weaved in together so softly and gently. It was something that was tugging at her heart that she needed to play; like a song stuck in her head and her heart, but had never heard before. She became lost in her melody.
Quietly, up the stairs, the floor creaked. Quinn peeped her head from the bedroom door. The music was drawing, seemingly calling her. She had been home for several hours now, skipping her last class, and was caught off guard when she heard a piano playing. She slowly snuck out of the room and creeped slowly down the stairs, not wanting to disturb or interrupt the pianist. She knew who was playing; she could smell a distinct waft of Japanese Cherry Blossom lotion. Quinn's heart seemed to have synchronized with the musical notes that bounced off the walls and filled the room with warmth. She stopped in her footsteps and felt an odd, subtle movement in her stomach. Her quiet gasp caused Santana's playing to come to an abrupt halt. Quinn held her stomach in awe, as if the baby inside were dancing to the rhythm. Santana looked at her with curious eyes and was shocked to find the blonde standing there. Quinn looked up slowly, taking her green eyes off of her midriff and met deep brown ones. "She kicked," she smiled at her friend.
Santana responded with a grin on her face as well. She got up from where she as sitting and without hesitating or asking put her hands on her friend's stomach, desperate to feel the movement of a growing life. However, after waiting a couple minutes, she frowned, "It won't kick."
"She won't kick," Quinn corrected.
Santana quirked up an eyebrow, not even processing that Quinn had said shewhen she first introduced the news. "How do you know it's a girl?" she asked, her hands still glued onto the same spot, determined to feel some sort of movement.
"I went to an appointment a couple days ago," she answered with a smile on her face and a dazzle of happiness in her eyes, "it's a girl."
Santana kneeled down on the floor, getting on her knees, eagerly pushed her hands under Quinn's shirt and pressed her ear against Quinn's warm stomach, "Hello in there," she cooed, "Please dance for you Auntie 'Tana."
Quinn jumped at Santana's touch, but giggled at the sight. No one had ever gotten Santana to get on her knees. Quinn was sure if she told this to anyone, Santana would profusely deny any allegations and shun her for the rest of her life for spreading the awful truth. She'd never seen Santana like this; so soft and gentle. It looked good on the sultry Latina, who always had to hold a rough and tough exterior. She put her soft hands over Santana's, her milky skin tone contrasting Santana's bronze tan. In that exact moment, they both felt a smooth movement and both Santana and Quinn looked at the source of the flux in Quinn's body. Smiles became present on both girls' faces.
Santana stood up from her knees, and grabbed Quinn's hand, not saying a word. She pulled her to the piano and sat down, signaling Quinn to sit down as well. Without words, she began to play the piano and played the tune she was playing earlier. But this time it was different... There was more passion, more fervor, more reason behind it. It sang to Quinn's heart, to the life growing inside of her; without words, Santana played a song of love dedicated to the blonde next to her, and the little one in her womb. When her fingers played the last note, she turned to Quinn. Her big brown eyes held subtlety in them, with an intent of a message she wanted to send to Quinn, but couldn't quite form into words. "Bella," was all that managed to spring from her lips, "It means beautiful in Italian," she smiled softly at Quinn.
Quinn smiled in response, quickly glanced down at her growing abdomen and then stared back intently into Santana's eyes, "She will be Bella."
A/N: Long time no update! So sorry guys, been a little preoccupied with life & the other fic. Thought this one needed some TLC ;) Anyways, yes I changed Beth's name... Thought it was fitting since Puck is not a main factor in the story; there's also another reason, which you will all eventually find out. Also, if you want to know what I had in mind for the song Santana was playing on the piano in this chapt listen to this youtube(.c o m)/watch?v=w5mn9W86FlI there's also a reason to this, which you will find out in due time. (the site won't let me post the actual link, so I guess you guys will have to uncode the link lol. if you can't, just PM me and i'll send the link) Review for inspiration & improvement ;)