Present Day
Brett Pierce wouldn't consider himself a violent person, or at least, not now. Of course, as an adolescent teenager, he'd been involved in a half-hearted fight or two during high school, but since then, he'd kept to himself. He was completely absorbed in his relationship, as well as trying to better himself in school; more importantly though, it wasn't in his nature. If you'd asked him, though... He'd tell you that if he had to, he'd do anything to keep Santana safe; Santana, and now, their unborn baby.
Every night since the blackout had begun, they'd heard riots and screaming around them, both apart and together. Even with other people around them; Quinton and Rachel, Mike... They felt safer together.
It had always been that way. Brett had never shied away from telling Santana, that she made him feel safe, and his face always lit up, when Santana told him the same.
The power had been out for months; months, without a clue what was going on, or how it had started. There had been rumors about what had caused the blackout, some more extreme than others. The most logical reason though, that there was a cyber attack, which happened to be so advanced, that it took out any source of power.
The only thing that mattered to Brett though, was that everybody was doing whatever they could to fix whatever had gone wrong, especially since he wasn't sure what there was to riot over anymore, nor loot. People must have been desperate for food and water, and it was only a matter of time, before he'd have to fight people off, who were trying to steal things from his house.
That time finally came though, and much later than he'd expected it to. Brett stood with a baseball bat, slowly making his way through their pitch black house. He'd heard a crash; a crash that was close, but he wasn't sure how close. There was a light chill running down his spine, it was dark; dark and cold.
"Hello?" Brett called out; his voice firm and loud, hoping to warn off any intruders as he looked around his house.
There was a small glow from behind the curtains, which only meant that there was a fire close by.
With that light glow though, he couldn't faintly make out the shapes around his living room.
He tried to make out each shape as thoroughly as he could, while making his way around.
That was when he heard it; that all-too familiar creak of the third step.
He sprinted through the house; his hip bumping the corner of the large cabinet as he passed. He felt nothing though, not with the mixture of adrenaline and panic in his system.
Brett knew it wouldn't be Santana following after him, she'd promised to stay tucked into their bed, along with Rachel and Quinton, who he'd specifically asked to keep Santana safe, in case an intruder happened to get passed him.
It was all a blur, his protective instincts taking over as soon as he was pounced on. There was a struggle; a blade barely cutting his skin as the intruder attempted to injure him. It was his strength that helped him over-turn his attacker; his strength and quick movements as he hit the other man with firm punches, and after the blonde brought a knee up to the intruder's crotch, he had him pinned against the door, making sure he knew never to return, before he was thrown out of the lawn.
Brett took a few deep breaths, looking down at his trembling hands. He was more than sure by now, that his arm had healed; he was sure days ago, when he'd taken off his make-shift cast, and he simply hoped that now, he hadn't broken anything else.
Brett thoroughly searched the house again, using the constant glow of the fire from outside as light. He nodded to himself, satisfied that from what he could see, their house was safe again, before he made his way back to the bedroom.
"It was nothing," Brett whispered simply, pushing the bedroom door closed behind him.
Santana wasn't stupid; she could read Brett like an open book. He was simply trying to spare her any worrying.
It could have worked; the only flaw being, that the candles Santana had lit, gave enough light to show off the blood dripping down Brett's side.
"It doesn't look like nothing," Santana frowned, scrambling up from their bed to inspect the cut.
It was only when he felt Santana's thumb delicately brushing over the cut, that he realised he had one.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Santana whispered, wiping off the blood from her thumb and brushing it over Brett's sweatpants as she sat him down.
Santana was tender and soft with her touch, carefully cleaning up her boyfriend up.
"You're lucky it wasn't that deep," Santana whispered, bringing her head to rest against the boy's muscular chest, bringing her hand up to brush over the light blonde hairs over Brett's chest.
"I think I'm actually lucky, that I had such a beautiful woman to help take care of it."
Santana grinned, taking her bottom lip between her teeth as she tilted her head, resting her chin against the boy's chest.
"I look disgusting, and feel disgusting," Santana admitted, almost timidly.
With a furrow of his eyebrows, Brett frowned, reaching over to tuck a strand of dark hair behind Santana's ear. He studied Santana's features for a moment, and for the life of him, he couldn't pick a favourite.
From the soft, warm tone of her skin; to the colour of her eyes, they were the softest he'd ever seen and full of emotion. Then, there was that smile, which in this moment, was both timid and honest. There was also the way her nose wrinkled that Brett simply adored. He loved each and every last inch of Santana, and he could never pick a favourite.
"You, are the most beautiful person, I've ever met. Inside, and outside. You're beautiful, every second of the day. From the moment when you wake up, until the moment you fall asleep, and then all the time in between too." Brett murmured, never breaking eye contact. "And just when I thought it wasn't possible for you to get any more beautiful, you got pregnant. You... You got pregnant, with our tiny, perfect baby, and you've never been more beautiful, and God, do I hope she looks like you..."
The two of them shared a quiet laugh, with Santana rolling her eyes in amusement.
"You're still convinced we're having a girl?" Santana whispered, kissing Brett's chest, with her tanned hand coming up to delicately stroke his cheek.
Brett nodded silently, bringing his hand down to slowly pull up the girl's sweater - or rather his sweater - to reveal the large baby bump. "I'm certain," he breathed, trailing his finger over the skin, creating the softest patterns.
"We'll see," Santana teased, bringing her own hand to rest against Brett's forearm.
Brett heard a sigh; a sigh that he knew all too well. Santana was thinking too much.
"What's wrong?"
Santana gnawed at her bottom lip, remaining silent for a few moments before she lifted his gaze to look at her boyfriend. "How can we keep it-"
"Her," Brett interjected.
Santana rolled her eyes. "How can we keep her warm?" She mumbled. "I mean, she's going to need clothes, and food, and ways to keep clean. I don't think there's anything left out there..."
Brett sighed; those thoughts had crossed his mind again, and again. He'd wracked his brain, in an attempt to figure out what he could do, but he constantly came up with nothing. Until now.
Now, he came up with the perfect idea in his head. "I'll take care of it, okay? Don't worry."
Santana raised a brow, trying to figure out what Brett could possibly mean, but left it with a simple nod.
Brett was in awe, looking over what seemed to be a whole warehouse full of food and supplies.
When Brett had thought through his idea the night before, he didn't actually think there'd be this much on offer.
It felt wrong to him. Here was all of this food, drink and supplies, while there was nothing out there. Brett couldn't help but feel a little guilty, if he could, he'd share out anything he could, but he knew he had to put his family first. If people knew the amount of supplies he had, it would all be gone in a day.
With a deep breath, he looked around the large space, deciding on what he needed to take first.
He was more than thankful, as he walked around, taking as much as he could, that his grandparents owned a popular chain of supermarkets all over the country, but he was even more thankful, that right now, they'd somehow managed to have one of their warehouses built underground.
As soon as Brett had a large cage full of supplies; the majority being for their new, unborn baby, another dilemma struck him. He didn't have a clue how he'd get home unseen, nor how he'd get everything into his house so quickly.
Somehow, he managed it. Brett locked up the two doors to the warehouse and found his way out. He was thankful for his athletic abilities as he sprinted through the town when necessary.
Santana scowled at the blonde, tilting her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I wanted you to take Fabray with you," she grumbled. "What if something would have happened to you?"
Santana bit her lip in an attempt to contain her smile; the second she saw that pout, and those piercing blue eyes, her resolve crumbled.
"I didn't want anything to happen to you.." Brett whispered, winding his arms around Santana as much as he could. "What if Fabray hadn't been here, and somebody broke in...? Besides, I'm fine. Nobody can take out Brett Pierce," he teased.
Santana's nose crinkled as she smiled; that all too familiar crinkle, that Brett loved. "Mmh, you are fine..." Santana smirked devilishly, stroking along Brett's collarbone.
"Really?" Brett chuckled, searching his girlfriend's face.
"Really, really," Santana nodded, and merely dragged the boy upstairs to their bedroom. "You should be rewarded, for being so brave. But more importantly, you need to fulfill your duty of being an amazing, sexy boyfriend, and get me off."
Brett didn't need to be told twice; he could never say no to Santana, let alone a pregnant Santana.
When Santana's lips met his in the most raw, intense kiss, Brett knew exactly what she needed.
Both of their clothes were carelessly scattered across the room, along with the various blankets they'd used to keep themselves warm, and it looked all too familiar.
Flashback - 18 Years Old
"Happy birthday," Santana sung into Brett's ear, and the smirk was evident in her voice. The voice she was using, was the sexiest Brett had ever heard, and the way her hot breath tickled the shell of his ear, Brett couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement.
A smile crept up on the blonde's face as he felt a warm hand sliding down his naked torso, wrapping around his morning wood.
"So you didn't get enough last night?" Brett husked lazily, finally cracking his eyes open.
"Did you?" Santana replied simply.
"Absolutely not," Brett smirked. "But, I think I should decide what I want first?" he asked, with the most innocent smile, which Santana couldn't help but kiss.
"I suppose you're right. What would you like first, Mr Pierce?"
"First, I want you, with your knees either side of my head, so that I can taste you..." Brett murmured.
"A-are you sure?" Santana asked shyly, taking her lip between her teeth. "It's your birthday."
"It's what I want," Brett reassured her, tugging the covers off their naked bodies. "I love making you feel good, and you taste amazing."
Santana took a moment, stroking through her boyfriend's dishevelled hair, before she gave him a chaste kiss, slowly moving her body - which ached deliciously, from their night of raw passion - until her bare core was hovering merely centimetres from Brett's perfect mouth.
Santana looked around the room, with a small smirk soon turning up her plump lips. Their clothes were scattered; Brett's desk was empty, with all of his belongings over the floor.
Santana's thoughts were soon gone, when she felt that warm tongue licking along the length of her folds.
A moan left her; her gaze snapping down to the head of blonde hair, which soon enough, had her fingers tugging at it, keeping Brett as close as possible.
Santana was in heaven. She felt like she always was, but with Brett's glorious mouth working over her pussy; his expert tongue brushing against that spot inside her, while his nimble fingers worked to tease her clit.
Her hips rocked forward, gaining as much friction as she possibly could; her hand tugging a little harder at Brett's hair, which she knew Brett loved.
"B-Brett, I... I..." Santana didn't even get the chance to finish her sentence, before her orgasm crashed over her.
"Happy birthd-"
In those seconds afterwards, Santana should have had the most blissful smile on her face as she came down, stroking Brett's hair.
Instead though, after hearing those familiar voices to the side of her, her face was flustered; a picture of panic and embarrassment as she scrambled off of Brett to hide under the covers, burying her face in his chest.
Brett was utterly confused for all of five seconds. When he looked up, his cheeks were the darkest shade of pink they'd ever been as he looked over at his shocked parents.
"M-Mom... Dad... I thought you wer-"
"We took the day off," The older Pierce's said in unison; Susan's cheeks matching Brett's.
"You can go now..." Brett muttered as he sunk beneath the covers, hiding along with Santana.
"It's good to know that your birthday isn't all about you, son. I'm glad we didn't raise you to be selfish," Daniel muttered.
"Out!" Brett called out, the embarrassment clear in his voice.
Brett's father couldn't help but laugh, only stopping when his wife slapped his arm and pulled him out of the room.
"I don't think I'm ever going to be able to look either of them in the eye again," Santana muttered, shaking her head.
"I wish they didn't have eyes right now," Brett grumbled.
The room was silent, until the two of them burst into laughter, at Brett's previous comment.
Present Day
"Fuck, B..."
Santana mewled, gently squeezing Brett's hand as she looked over her shoulder at the blonde, connecting their lips in a harsh kiss.
Neither of them had bothered to be quiet; not when they'd constantly had to listen to Rachel and Quinton going at it.
"I... I'm almost there," Santana breathed, taking his lip between her teeth.
Brett was cautious with his thrusts. He was constantly worried that he'd hurt Santana, or the baby, but with Santana's reassurance, promising that they were okay, and that she was more than comfortable in this position, Brett thrust up into Santana, just the way she needed it.
With the hypnotizing sound of moans and whimpers leaving the room, along with the sound of Brett's balls slapping against Santana's ass creating the perfect symphony of sounds, neither of the two heard the familiar creak of the third step.
It was when the door was flung open, that Brett jumped back, tumbling off the bed and moving to cover himself up with one of the scattered blankets.
"M-Mr Lopez.. W-what.. What are you doing here?" Brett rambled, taking in the shocked expressions on his future in-laws' faces.
"Oh God," Santana mumbled, from where she'd buried herself beneath the covers.
"We came up here from Florida," Maribel called out from behind her husband, gently tugging on his arm. "We'll wait downstairs for you..."
Brett was mortified. Mr Lopez was nothing like his own father; the blonde was always nervous around the older man.
Santana let go of a relieved sigh once she heard the door close, lifting her head from beneath the covers.
"C'mere..." She whispered.
Brett cautiously stood up, making his way back to their bed with a deep blush.
"I love you," Santana said softly, pulling her boyfriend as close as possible, tracing soothing patterns over his back.
"I love you too," Brett whispered, slowly beginning to feel at ease once more.
That was until he came face to face with Santana's parents again; to his disbelief, Santana claimed that she needed to finish, and Brett didn't want to disappoint.
As he slipped into the armchair, opposite Santana's parent's, he merely prayed that the two of them had heard nothing else. It was bad enough that they'd walked in on them, but he was sure he'd be dead, if Santana's father found out that they'd finished too.
When Santana padded into the room, albeit, just as mortified as her boyfriend, she allowed her parents to wrap her up in a hug. As soon as her father cleared space for her, leaving a small gap for her to sit between the two, she offered a polite shake of her head before she stood up and made her way over to Brett, taking her usual space in his lap.
She knew all too well, that Brett was always nervous around her parents, more-so now than ever before.
"I'm not crushing you, am I?" Santana whispered, stroking the back of her boyfriend's head.
"Not one bit," Brett answered, shaking his head.
Slowly, Brett wrapped his arms around Santana, letting a hand fall onto her baby bump as he avoided all eye contact with Santana's parents.
Santana smiled to herself, bringing Brett's head to rest against her chest as she looked over to her parents. "So, how was your walk up here? I'm glad you got here safely."
"Terrifying," Maribel admitted. "I don't know if we'll ever have power again, but I promise you now, that your Papi and I, are never going on a trip again."
"Good," Santana breathed, her hold tightening on Brett.
He didn't knew where any of his family were. The last time either of them had spoken, was when they'd taken his sister over to England. Santana knew that Brett didn't have the faintest idea if they were still in England, or whether they were in one of the planes that went down.
She felt the blonde tense, and she was sure she felt her heart drop. Brett was in his head too much, so with that thought, the Latina gently brought Brett's head up, brushing her finger against his jaw. "You Pierce's are invincible," she whispered, pressing her lips to Brett's.
Santana knew that Brett needed a distraction, one to keep his mind at ease.
She settled for having her father take a look at Brett's arm, much to both men's dismay.
"Papi, if you hurt him, I will not be happy," Santana muttered; her hands kneading Brett's broad shoulders as she watched over the encounter.
'Oh God, he's going to break my arm.' Those were the words Brett repeated over and over in his head as he watched the tanned hands moving over his arm.
"It looks to be completely healed," The Latino nodded firmly. "You were lucky it was a clean break, just try to avoid straining that arm for a while.
Brett let go of the breath he'd been holding, nodding in response to the older man. "Th-thank you," he nodded.
When he felt Santana's hands slip from his shoulders, Brett raised an eyebrow; Santana had previously had the hardest grip on his shoulders.
Santana whimpered.
Everybody in the room whipped their head around to the Latina, who had hold of her bump.
Brett was quick to guide her to the arm chair, kneeling in front of Santana.
His heart was racing; he instantly began to panic as he brought his hand up to Santana's bump. "Wh-what's wrong? What is it?"
"I think I had a contraction... I-It's happening..."
A/N: I apologise if this chapter doesn't flow as well as others, I wrote it on very little sleep. Anyway, thank you again for any feedback. I do try to incorporate anything you want to see, so let me know. Thank you, as always, for any Follows/Favourites/Reviews. :)
