Santana obviously had hard time maintaining her stress levels. She stood by the altar, trembling slightly in anticipation. Her tight dress wasn't helping her breathing at all; it was terrible. She felt her lungs constrict and squeeze and willed her chest to not concave on this, the most important day of her life. Instead, she kept staring at the arch of flowers over the priest's head, hoping her torture wouldn't last for long. The right melody started and Isabel rubbed her sister's back to reassure her. She had to stay there, looking at the altar while her bride was supposedly making her way towards her, melodramatic sighs from their family and friends alerting her to Quinn's arrival. She heard steps, four very distinct feet walking, Quinn and her step-dad. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply into her cupped palms to calm herself down.
The camera switched angles and panned to Quinn gliding down the aisles looking radiant. Santana couldn't never get enough of those images. She relieved the scene each time she watched them.
"But look how gorgeous you are!" she sobbed in front of the TV. "It's like you're not even real!"
"I think you're glorifying it a bit, love," Quinn shouting from the kitchen with a teasing chuckle.
"Look at you! Your hair, and your dress..." she dried her tears with a tissue, a habitual and necessary item when watching their wedding video. "It's like... a waterfall of fluffy love!"
"A waterfall of-" Quinn couldn't finish her sentence, her chuckles took her over. She took the plates she was filling while letting her giggles die and headed to the sofa.
"I looked so young," Santana weeped.
Quinn's laughter started with renewed vigor. "It was five years ago, not fifty! You pretty much look the same," she reassured sitting by her wife.
"Nuh-huh." Santana shook her head defiantly, pointing at her enormous pregnant belly.
"Besides that obviously, but that doesn't really count in the equation." Quinn smiled tenderly, pressing soft reverent fingers to the raised flesh.
"I promise to love you tenderly, in sadness or in bliss, despite the sorrows or greatest happiness. I swear fidelity, loyalty and trust..." Quinn repeated the priest's words on camera softly, reverently and devotedly. Santana held her tissue tight so as not to burst out crying with emotion.
"Do you, Lucy Quinn Fabray, agree to take Santana Maria Adela Lopez as your beloved wife and cherish her for as long as you both shall live?"
"I do," Quinn breathed out, her face all rosy and voice tightened with love.
Santana couldn't hold it in anymore, ugly sobs formed into two huge torrents on her cheeks. Quinn hurriedly put the plates down on the table, and went to get the remote, fighting Santana's tight grip. "Alright, alright, I think it's enough for today!"
"But you-... s-said yes!" Santana choked out.
"I know and you said yes as well, that's not brand new information, Mrs. Fabray!" Quinn defended herself, still fighting to get the remote that Santana was holding up and away from Quinn. "Santana, give me that damn remote!"
"No-o-o!" her trembling voice shouted. "Let me watch it! I'm an adult, I can do whatever I want!"
Quinn had enough. She climbed on the sofa carefully, so as not to harm her pregnant wife, and forcefully pulled the remote out of her hand, leaving behind a hormonal pouting wreck. She hurried to stop the tape, determined to end the pathetic display of sappy mood.
"And anyway, why are you watching this? It's not our anniversary at all," Quinn grumbled, while stuffing the remote between the cushions of the sofa so Santana couldn't fight to get it back.
"I'm trying to induce labor," she admitted, her eyes puffy from all the crying and nose a tad runny. She wiped at them with her forearm like a small child.
"What?!"
"I read online that deep emotions could induce labor and that's the only video that makes me cry like that." She bit the inside of her cheek. "But maybe I should get a good scare, I don't know..."
"You've got to be kidding me," Quinn said, wide eyed. Trying to contain her laughter, she gave her wife a plate with her dinner. "Sweetie, it's a matter of days now, maybe even hours..."
Santana started to fill her mouth with a fork loaded with food. "My due date was yesterday, I think I have every right to complain from now on," she let out between mouthfuls. "It's war time Quinn, war time... I'm willing to do everything it takes to get this bastard out of my stomach."
Quinn laughed, one hand reaching out to splay across the bump housing their baby. "Please hon, don't call our son a bastard... It's comfy inside there, don't blame him."
"You dirty, filthy,-" Santana started, growling in her belly's direction but being poked by Quinn within a second. "... lovely baby Arthur I love with all my heart..."
Quinn nodded, "...yeah. I prefer that."
"I just feel like I'm going to be pregnant forever," Santana admitted passionately, mentally and physically tired.
"Yeah I know sweetie, I know how that feels but it really doesn't last forever," Quinn said soothingly, putting her plate down and rubbing her wife's back.
In pure preggo-Santana fashion, she decided not to hear or listen to Quinn's reassuring words. She was stuck on her idea that she'd die in all her whale-like glory. Amen.
Realizing she wouldn't get anything from the brunette that night, Quinn gave up and used her best weapon. "Just think that if he really doesn't want to come out, you'll get induced in three days. Just focus on that, three little days. No more than three very tiny little days."
"PRAISE," Santana let out exasperatedly, rolling her eyes and already stuffing her mouth with another loaded forkful.
- o -
"My little baby is getting her PhD," Judy wept, quietly applauding in excitement as Quinn's guests began to take their seats in the row.
Santana waited, hands on her hips, for everyone to make themselves comfortable before taking the last seat for herself. This way, she wouldn't need to make everybody stand up if she needed to leave... hurriedly, just in case. She waited, sighing darly, feeling like a lampshade in her most comfy clothes, nothing like the tight dresses and tuxedos her pals were wearing. But did she really have a choice? She was feeling enormous anyhow, no need to make it worse with cling-on clothes.
One of Santana's co workers came by pushing his large-framed glasses up his nose, laughing at the woman who was obviously about to pop. "Wow Santana you lied to us, you're expecting two or what?"
"Shut it John, just... shut it," she let out through gritted teeth, closing her eyes in disgust as he unwittingly twisted the knife in the wound.
"Leave her alone," said another professor half-chuckling as she darted through rows of seats, because indeed, Santana's stomach was worth the sight. She kindly rubbed her friend's shoulder. "How are you?"
Santana glanced up at her with a murdering stare mixed with intense pleading, speaking volumes about her condition.
Her friend smiled tenderly. "Yeah last days are tough... When's your due date?"
Santana swallowed thickly, her unconscious speaking for her. "Two days ago..."
The professor rubbed her shoulder once more but this time, a concerned and deeply empathetic expression colored her features. As a mom, she very well understood Santana's feelings. This was why she didn't have any words of reassurance, no advice in store to ease her.
Santana eased out a slow breath, finally settling down into her seat, her body falling like a heavy weight on the chair.
The professor tapped her shoulder again, the only gesture she knew to show her support. "Hold on Santana, keep... keep holding on..." she said strongly.
Against all rules, (but who cares about rules when your wife is pregnant?) Quinn escaped backstage for a while to check on her.
"I got you this," she said into Santana's ear, surprising the woman and almost making her jolt in her seat. She handed a glass of water and a bunch of appetizers in a small napkin, depositing them in Santana's lap. "You comfy?"
"Oh gosh, you scared me! What are you doing here? Why aren't you with the others?"
"I seduced the secretary to know if I was at the top or bottom of the list," she said around a joking smile; crouching to the ground not to bother anyone with her large cap. "I can stay for a while with you."
"Aw..." Santana stroked her face lovingly.
"Will you sit with us until they call your name?" Judy asked, leaning around three different cousins who grimaced at the invasion of personal space.
"No, I'll have to go back when they start calling people," she answered, eyes on her wife who seemed to be fidgeting uncomfortably. "Santana please, keep your thighs folded until the end of the ceremony," she joked to ease her grimacing wife.
Santana cracked a smile, rubbing the top of her stomach. "He's just kicking... His head is down though, maybe I'd have to deliver on the stage..."
"Please no, not a second time," Judy pleaded, remembering her own daughter's delivery. "I beg of you, I really do!"
"What happened?" Santana inquired curiously, looking between her mother in law and wife.
"My waters broke right on the stairs after dancing on stage, whatever..."
"You... danced? Like that?" she gestured to her own swollen body. "How?! I thought you were in the audience!"
"Nothing can stop me, even knocked up," Quinn joked, the corners of her mouth quirking up.
"Gosh..." Santana breathed out.
People on the stage started to hurry, an obvious sign that the ceremony would begin shortly. Feeling hesitant and weary to leave Santana alone, even though her parents were seated right beside her, Quinn stood up to head out. She kissed her wife on the cheek, embracing her own lucky charm. She left, hoping that during the hour they'd be apart, their son wouldn't decide it was time to take a trip down South.
Sitting on the stage, Quinn only had eyes for Santana in the audience. She scrutinized her every move, a sort of urgency had tainted her every reaction lately. She couldn't care less about the long speeches Yale's professors, the dean and the other directors made, repeating the same best wishes, the same pride for the nation and other bullshit that would bore even the little flies buzzing around the spotlights of the scene. It didn't take long before Santana began to doze off, rubbing the bridge of her nose to hide the fact she was indeed falling asleep. Quinn caught sight of her mother poking Santana in the ribs to wake her up. This time, Santana rubbed her bridge not out of sleepiness but annoyance, and Quinn had hard time not laughing, guessing her wife was grumbling inaudible Spanish words at her mother.
And then finally, after years spent studying, trying to use her talent to make the world forget the controversy over a student/professor marriage at Yale, it was a light hearted Quinn who grabbed her diploma from the director's hands. The end, that's what it felt like. The end of an era. She had no reason to come back to Yale ever again, the place where she had found herself again, had found love, got married and started her family. She knew very well what her future would look like. She had already found a very interesting position in a lawyer's office, which she'd start working at in a couple of weeks, after Arthur's birth - if he ever decided to come out of the womb. Routine would be made of diapers, nannies and sleepless nights. Her life about to drastically change, like a time bomb ready to explode as soon as she was able to hold her son.
Quinn waved at the audience once she had her degree in hand, in sheer tradition. Under her gaze, her family was applauding, a standing ovation of Fabrays. Even Santana, despite her unsteady posture out of obvious heaviness, had somehow managed to heave herself up to clap. This was her time to shine, her time to show the people who had said that she had traded her body to a professors to get her grades, that their couple would never last, that it was against morals and normality. She had in front of her, cheering and crying, a woman committed to her until the end of time. When she compared this with other students, their partners looked more like booty calls than true love. She felt proud of herself. She was where she always wanted to be, on a stage celebrating how well she had done in life.
As soon as she could, she escaped the photographers, handshakes and congratulatory words, to join Santana once more. The latter hadn't moved an inch, patiently waiting while she listened to her mother-in-law's mindless droning.
"What's really important is the breathing, Santana. The brea - thing. It helps you deal with the pain," Judy explained for the hundredth time.
"Thank you Judy, but we went to birthing classes, remember?" Santana smiled sweetly, but gritting her teeth all the while. That wasn't an easy task with so much hormones in her blood. "We practised all of it..."
"I know, but you can't believe those nurses. Most of them don't even have a kid already! How could they really know how it feels!"
Santana sighed, rubbing her wedding ring out of habit. Must not hit wife's mother, must not hit wife's mother, must not-
"And what a weird idea to give birth in a pool... Back in the day, it was the obstetrics chair and nothing else! Why did you choose that? That's so random!"
It's not okay to kill Quinn's mom, it's not okay to kill Quinn's mom. "Because I want to give birth at home if possible, and I feel like I'd be more comfortable in a pool than in my bed for that."
Judy stared at her daughter in law silently. It was clear she wasn't buying into what Santana was trying to sell. "But that's not very hygienic though."
"I'm not going to deliver into a public pool, God... It's clean water and a specific type of pool! Judy, this is how we want to do it, that's all. I want to avoid the hospital, even though it seems like I won't have the choice anyway so..."
"And Quinn, she's okay with that?"
"Yes, she's very okay with that, we decided together," she ground out, getting annoyed now.
Quinn finally appeared in her billowing cloak and holding onto her cap with one hand, her entrance akin to that of the messiahs. "Is everything okay?" she immediately inquired, catching sight of a light frown darkening her wife's eyes.
"Your mother..." Santana almost pleaded with puppy eyes, grabbing her wife's arms in despair.
Quinn shrugged. "Mom, I can't believe you're still making me repeat this ... her baby, her body, her delivery, meaning, none of your business!"
This time, Judy had nothing to add. "You were wonderful on stage, so gracious!" Judy sidetracked instead, erasing the scolding with her thrilled voice.
Quinn nodded knowingly to thank her mom. Her message had been obviously well received this time.
"We can go home, I said hello to everybody and did all the pics they wanted so we can leave if you want," Quinn offered, afraid that the ceremony had already been too much for her wife.
Before Santana even got the chance to say that she indeed wanted to leave, a crowd of coworkers, school board members and such, congregated around them like busy bees around a honey pot. Thus they were kidnapped to some well-meaning but obviously dense idiots home.
Hours later Quinn stood sipping a glass of champagne while Santana sat on a chair right by her side, both of them waiting for the agony to end. At some point, maybe these people would get tired of asking questions, congratulating them over... and over again for a baby that wasn't even born yet.
"So, the little angel is still not born?" Santana and Quinn heard for the hundredth time, and for the hundredth time they pulled their best smiles and most polite thanks. "So boy or girl?", "And you're doing good? Being pregnant is such a wonderful experience, the best actually...", "I hope you'll give him Yale as a second name, after all, this is a Yale baby!"
"We'll miss you, Quinn. The law section won't be the same without your excellence," the director admitted.
"Thank you, Sir."
"Well, if you indeed miss her, offer her to come teaching some other time," Santana pushed around a smile.
Lately, Santana had started to realize that Quinn wouldn't be around much anymore. She'd be working on the other side of the city actually, an entire twenty minute drive. No more lunch breaks together, small meetings between classes... Her time at Yale when she'd start working again would be a complete Quinn-free experience and the idea was terrifying. Consequently, any occasion was a good one to push Quinn to come back, to consider tutoring, lecturing or anything that would get the blonde to come back on campus, even for two hours.
"Apply if you want to! I'm sure we could find a lecture to do or some counselling for you."
Quinn chuckled, "I don't think teaching is my calling, but I appreciate the offer."
Discreetly, Santana grabbed her wife's arm and squeezed to get her attention. As soon as Quinn looked down, she understood that she wasn't feeling right.
She bent to get more privacy, whispering. "Do you want to go home?"
"My stomach is all hard," Santana admitted in her ear.
Quinn rubbed the raised skin covered by the loose purple dress her wife was wearing, feeling tense muscles under her palm. No need to check twice to understand that life was perhaps getting ready inside. "Contractions?"
"No, no... It's just..." she sighed. "I don't feel good..."
Quinn felt Arthur move despite the tense muscles encasing him. She knew those sensations very well. Her empathy was already kicking in. "Yeah, let's put you in bed as soon as possible, you'd be better lying than sitting," she said, already helping Santana to stand up.
"I'm really sorry Director, but we need to leave," Santana apologized kindly.
"Oh don't apologize, my dear... Take care of yourself, Santana. Let us know when we can start sending flowers," he joked lightly, shaking her hand.
"I honestly think you can already get ready," she let out, even though he wasn't sure if it was a joke or not.
"And good luck, Quinn. I wish my best," he shook her hand as well.
Quinn didn't waste any second, she was already walking her wife off the property. Her mind was repeating the same message: get home the soonest possible, put Santana in bed and wait to know if it was just a false alarm or if Arthur had decided to take the final plunge. And both of them hoped he had. He only had one day left, 24 hours or so, to give in and head out. If he decided that staying in was much more comfortable, the three of them could kiss the cool and peaceful delivery goodbye. They would be in for white rooms, white gowns, white sheets and an armada of white coats. And this was what they feared the most. Santana hated hospitals as a general rule. And Quinn remembered that the last time she'd been in a hospital for a delivery she had left it alone, stomach and arms baby-free.
"We might be close," Santana whispered as they settled into the car.
Quinn smiled behind the steering wheel. She took a deep breath. Beth was happy, she'd done good by her and there was no reason to rehash the past. She placed her unoccupied hand on Santana's tense stomach and bit her lip when she felt Arthur stir beneath her palm: his movements creating a ripple effect that she swore she felt right to her heart. She was okay. They were okay.
"I could really go for a taco, all the same. Is that normal?"
Quinn laughed and turned onto the road, taking her wife's hand and squeezing. Yeah, they were more than okay.
Tadaaa :3