Author's Note: A big thanks for your follows and favorites, and if course, to ruby-may89, AlabamaMiles, Chuckleshan, Shammy526, lg4az, mocblue, ishlheard2day and the two Guests for your reviews!

Immediately following Thanksgiving, most people begin counting the days until Christmas. I guess, subconsciously, I'd always done it too, since I do love the holiday season, but for the past five years, the most important December date I had counted down to was the night of Brittany's showcase. Of course, we'd still gone into full swing holiday mode, starting our shopping back in Lima, secretly packing up the trunk of our car with the Santa gifts we'd hide in the attic. We had our holiday photos taken (which were seriously the cutest things ever, even if we're total dorks), all three of us dressed in our fanciest outerwear, the photographer we'd found right after Annie was born snapping shot after shot of the three of us posing in fake snow; Annie ducking behind my legs while Britt threw snowballs, the two of them dumping a wooden bucket of snow over my head, Annie sitting by herself on a sled catching snowflakes on her tongue, Britt and I lifting our daughter up to put a top hat on a snowman, all of us lying on our backs making angels, the Lopez-Pierce Christmas cards were kind of legendary. But still, it was hard, especially with Annie, for both Britt and I during the three weeks she had to work borderline inhuman hours, racing into the house every night just moments before our daughter's bedtime, but it was a necessary evil, I knew that. Her schedule was flexible for ninety-five percent of the year in exchange for maybe a combined total of six weeks of hell, we really had no right to bitch about it it, but this year, more than ever before (even if it was mostly in my head), I did.

The biggest problem was that I wasn't just counting down to that one night, I was also counting down to the end of my first trimester (although I couldn't believe it was already on the horizon), and to the days when I could start worrying less about miscarrying, and hopefully finally see the end of the persistent nausea and vomiting. Seven days before Christmas, that's when my second trimester was supposed to begin, and every time I crouched on the bathroom floor with my head over the toilet bowl, I could only hope that it would be easier than the first. The thing was, I didn't want to complain, didn't want someone out there in the universe thinking I was anything less than eternally grateful for the tiny life (now complete with fingernails and hair) who had already claimed a part of my heart. So, on the days I felt the worst, I suffered in silence. I would put on a happy face for Annie, who was already having a hard time because she hated Brittany's busy weeks as much as I did, and I tried my best to keep myself together in front of my wife, who already felt unnecessarily guilty because she could tell I felt awful and hated that she couldn't stay home and force me to rest. When I was alone though, that's when I found myself fraying at the edges.

The first Wednesday of December, a week an a half after Thanksgiving (nine days before Britt's big night and eleven days before the big twelve week mark), was the first time in years where I'd felt like I was at a complete loss for how to take care of myself. I knew that my morning sickness was bad, had even expected it to be before I'd gotten pregnant, because my mother's had been the same way when she was pregnant with me, but for some reason, on that one day, it had become completely unbearable. Britt had left for work just after seven, and I'm not sure how I even managed to make it through getting Annie ready for school. Hardly managing to keep down the three sips of orange juice I'd drank and the half a piece of toast I'd forced down my throat, I dropped Annie off, and raced back home, dry heaving for a good fifteen minutes, trying to no avail to bring everything back up on the off chance it would make me feel better, and finally collapsing on the bed in a heap of uncontrollable sobs.

Call me crazy, but in my head, I was sure that gnawing, aching, twisting feeling in my stomach was akin to Chinese water torture, especially when I knew that I had to put something in my body for both my sake and the sake of the baby. So I lay there on my side with my knees to my chest, all wrapped up in the threadbare Cheerios sweatshirt that had once belonged to Brittany (the same one that served as a substitute for her arms during the years we were apart), no pants on, because it required too much effort to pull them down to pee, clutching the bottle of water I was forcing myself to swallow in one hand, and the phone I was trying not to dial in the other, hoping, praying, begging that the awful feeling would go away before I had to get myself out of bed and pick Annie back up. Had I been looking at myself from outside my body, I would have seen exactly what I'd hoped I'd never become, one of those women who'd been completely crippled by pregnancy. I guess that's what I got for making fun, karma is a bitch, right?

You are pregnant. You are nauseous. I internally chastised myself, mentally slamming my palm against my forehead. You're not missing limbs or dying, there's no reason for you to be laying here like a helpless mess. Pull yourself together and stop thinking about calling Brittany, because the minute you get on the phone she'll be out the door to get to you. You can do this, Santana.

Maybe that was the biggest problem with being such a control freak, there were times where I truly beat myself up over things that I had absolutely no control over. In my head, I was furious with myself, not with my body chemistry, that I couldn't be one of those women who made pregnancy look so easy, and maybe a little pissed at the baby, as if someone that wasn't even the size of a lime could really bare any blame. After another hour of alternating between crying and sipping water, I knew that I really had no choice. Each morning, as she left for work, Britt would kiss my stomach, my forehead and finally my lips before looking into my eyes and making me promise that I'd call her if I needed anything. I'd been really, really good about not calling her if it wasn't a desperate situation, but this time it was. I knew I couldn't even pick my head up from the pillow, let alone walk over to Annie's school, attempt to be remotely sociable with the other parents and then have any semblance of normalcy for my four year old.

"Hi San." Brittany answered her phone breathlessly on the second ring, and I heard her call for whoever was in the studio with her to take five. She was doing run throughs on every number, every single day. As sweet and caring as my wife was, I knew she demanded nothing short of perfection on stage, and she would make those dancers practice a thousand times if she didn't see that. Even with how sick I was, I felt so much pride any time I even thought about how outrageously talented and dedicated she was.

"Britt." I tried not to moan, my hand shaky as I held the phone to my ear and didn't move from the fetal position I'd curled into. Tears sprung to my eyes as another crushing wave of nausea took over my body. "I know you're busy, and I'm sorry, I didn't want to interrupt you at work or anything, and I'm really trying to be okay-"

"Hey, honey." Her voice was low and soothing, knowing that I was crying, and it only made me cry harder. "You're rambling a lot, and I can tell that you're not okay. Don't apologize to me, what's going on? What can I do to help you?"

"Can you pick up Annie at school? I'm just a fucking mess right now. You can drop her off and go back to work, and she can come lay in bed with me and watch movies or something, I don't even know."

"Shhh, it's okay. Let me just tell Rick that I'm leaving here now and taking the rest of the day. Can I bring you anything?"

"Nothing. Nothing is helping me right now, I've never in my life felt sick like this B. It's like the world's worst stomach bug times a million. You don't have to stay with me all day, it'll pass eventually, right?

"It's not up for discussion, I'm not leaving you there alone like that." I could hear the catch in her voice, and I knew exactly what it felt like when there was literally nothing you could do to make the woman you loved feel any better. "Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"No." Well, yes, but I really wasn't going to take it to that level of dramatics yet. "It's okay. I'm just going to keep laying down. Thank you."

"I love you, and I'll be there as fast as I can."

"Love you too." I whispered, those three words saying so much more than I was capable of getting out.

Once I hung up the phone, I curled even tighter into myself, clutching my stomach with the hand that had been holding the phone, promising the baby that their Mama would be home soon. I felt ridiculous and irrationally angry about the entire situation, always having hated more than anything when I was incapable of taking care of myself, hating that I couldn't just be stronger for five freaking seconds so I didn't have to call my wife crying because I had a stomach ache. Seriously, most women in the world had babies, and most women didn't need to act psychotic and call their partners to come home from work. It was a terrible form of self-loathing that took over me, and in the midst of trying so hard to convince myself that it was my hormones making me so much more emotional, and not some form of inner weakness, I finally managed to fall asleep, tears still streaming down my face.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been asleep when I woke up again, but I knew it couldn't have been for more than a few moments, because the house was still silent. Again, the nausea overtook me, and I knew what was finally coming. I tried to get up out of the bed, but I wasn't fast enough. By the time I got myself into a sitting position, I couldn't control it any longer. Through a choked out sob, I managed to throw up the small amount of food and water I had gotten into my body all over the sheets.

"Goddamnit!" I cried out to the empty room. "Fuck!"

Slowly, I slunk out of the bed, furiously ripping the sheets off with me in an effort to do something useful. I wasn't going to just lay back down in my own vomit and wait for my wife to take care of me like some helpless mess. Sheets in the wash, new sheets on the bed. Two simple tasks, I tried to tell myself. I'd made it as far as the bedroom door before another wave crashed over me and I sank down onto the floor, my arms still tangled in the sheets.

"Lo siento bebé." I sobbed, knowing that I was in no state to stand back up and complete the task I'd started. "Te amo, lo prometo, but please stop making me feel so sick. And now I'm acting like a crazy bitch and you don't deserve that, lo siento! I know. I shouldn't be blaming this on you. Lo siento. Lo siento. I'm so, so sorry."

"Santana." Brittany's voice and her hands running up and down my back broke me from my own head somewhere in the middle of my Spanglish apologetic rant to the baby. "It's okay. I've got you."

"It's not okay," I squeezed my eyes tightly shut as Britt pried the soiled sheets from my hands, tossing them off to the side. "I'm mad at myself, and I'm mad at the baby, and now I'm yelling at them, at our baby, and I can't even make myself stop."

"It's not your fault." Brittany gathered me up into her arms, cradling my head against her chest, softly kissing my hair, and I felt small, so small, smaller than I'd felt in a really long time as she held me. "You're really sick, honey."

"This is the worst I've ever felt in my life." Even before the words left my mouth, I knew that actually wasn't true, but when you're in the moment, nothing in the past feels like it could have ever possibly felt worse. "It's like those ten seconds after you're on the tire swing and the whole world won't stop spinning, but it's not ten seconds, it's hours and hours. I feel like I don't even know who I am right now. I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to feel so sick that I can't even pick up my daughter at- oh God, where's Annie? Did she see me like this?"

"Rachel met me at school, Annie is spending the afternoon with her and Brice, and I'm going to spend the afternoon figuring out what the hell we can do to make you feel better. But can you do something for me?"

"Ugh, I want to say yes, Brittany, but I swear to God, I think if I stand up I'll die."

"No standing necessary." She kept her voice so calm, despite my melodramatic behavior, and I'm really not sure how she was able to manage that. "I just want you to stop beating yourself up for being sick, because you can't control it, and it's making everything else feel a hundred times worse. I want you to let me help you get in the bathtub, because it might help you relax, and then I want you to close your eyes and just let me take care of you, because you're not doing this alone.

"I'll try." I promised, finally feeling able to meet her eyes and trying to find some kind, any kind of humor in the situation. "I have gross, pukey hair, don't I?

"Just a little bit." She smiled at me so lovingly that I thought my heart would explode right then and there, and somehow, being reminded that Brittany would always love me, even when I was a hysterical, crazy mess with vomit in my hair made me feel just the slightest bit better. "But we'll take care of that right now."

After I nodded my consent, Brittany somehow managed to stand up while still holding me in her arms. As she settled me down in the empty tub, something in me snapped, something that I needed to snap. This wasn't like all the times in my past that I'd been dropped down in a tub to save me from myself, this was just my wife, helping me to feel better when I was physically ill, the same way I'd do for her, the same way we'd do for our daughter. I needed to stop giving myself so much shit for something I physically had no control over, I needed to remember why I was feeling the way I was, needed to remember that soon enough the awful feeling would fade, and that in half a year, something so miraculous would be placed in my arms that would make me forget every single time I felt sick, or achy, or exhausted, or unnecessarily emotional. I closed my eyes as Britt sat down on the edge of the tub and used the detachable shower head to rinse the mess out of my hair, running shampoo through it with her long fingers as she softly sang the strains of a familiar song; I love you, I love you, I love you like never before.

Once the shampoo was rinsed out, and Brittany clipped my hair up off my neck, she stopped up the tub and let the water run as hot as I could handle, filling up around me. The nausea was still there, aching and persistent, but the momentary panic that had flooded through my system seemed to have abated. Brittany, my beautiful, loving everything had once again managed to relieve me of that separate sickening feeling, and once again, I swore that even if I lived a thousand lifetimes, I'd never fully understand how it was possible to have someone who understood me so well, who meant so much. I knew there were just as many times where she'd been on the receiving end of my affection and caregiving, even if in my head, I felt like I was always the weak one. But still, with her thumb rubbing against my palm as she used the other hand to pour bubble bath (unscented, because she'd tracked that down for me) into the scalding water, I had to remind myself how worthy I was of her love. When the tub was nearly full, she urged me to lean back, to let my body and my mind rest, and considering the thoughts I'd had just a few moments earlier, I did.

"Are you feeling alright?" She asked softly, and I actually felt capable of giving her a small smile.

"Still nauseous, but a little better, for the time being." I answered her honestly.

"I want to call Dr. Singh, Santana. I want to see what we can do for you, because you shouldn't have to feel this sick. I don't think it's good for you, or for the baby."

"I know, Britt. You can call her. At this point, I'll do whatever she thinks I should do to stop this. I won't even make her repeat herself a hundred times to reassure me."

"Okay." She furrowed her brows and pursed her lips, knowing if I wasn't even trying to pretend I was okay, that it really was that bad. "Are you okay in here if I go throw everything in the wash, put some new sheets on the bed and call her?"

"I am. And Brittany?"

"Mmhm."

"Thank you. For this, for just everything. I'm going to close my eyes now, and just pull myself back together. I'm sorry for being all five years ago Santana."

"You're not." She looked at me with those loving eyes again and leaned in to softly kiss the side of my mouth. "I know sometimes you're scared of falling back into that hole, but you're different now, you know how to ask for help when you need it. And no apologies or thanks are necessary, baby. I know it's your body that our baby is currently wreaking havoc on, but I'm with you, as much as I possibly can through the entire thing."

"I know, I should have called you sooner, I just-"

"It's okay. Just rest now, and we'll talk about it later." She kissed the heel of my hand, and I gave her the best smile I could manage. "Yell for me if you need anything, I'll be back up soon."

"Wait. Before you go, do you think you could just-" I paused, lowering my eyes because it was the last thing I wanted to ask for, I'd been trying so hard not to take anything, with the exception of in the car, but I was a hundred percent sure that it was the only thing that would make me feel better. "Could you get me one of those nausea pills from the cabinet?"

"San, you haven't taken one today?" She asked, more alarmed by the fact that I hadn't than that I was asking for one now. I shook my head, and she sighed a little bit before filling one of those tiny bathroom cups from the tap and handing it to me with a pill. "You know they're completely safe, right?"

"I know. I just...I know." I couldn't articulate what I wanted to say the way I was trying to, so I just swallowed the one thing that would help me, and let Brittany leave the bathroom without saying another word.

My whole body felt like it was letting out a sigh as I sank down further into the bath water, so low that the bottom of my chin grazed the surface. I desperately needed to turn my mind off, to stop thinking that every single breath I took would have horrific repercussions for the tiny life inside of me. My stomach had always been so affected by my emotions, and being constantly worked up couldn't be making the situation any better. Letting my hands press against the thickening, soft area below my belly button, I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, waiting for the medication to take effect. Occasionally, I'd turn on the tap with my foot, adding more hot water to the bath, and finally, while rubbing my stomach both to soothe it, and to remind myself again that everything was worth it for the end result, I started to talk to the baby, far nicer than I'd been a half hour earlier.

"I know we're going to be just fine, baby. A few more weeks and I'll be feeling like I'm on top of the world again, I'll get to hear your tiny heartbeat, I'll get to feel you move, and don't tell anyone, but I'll even be ridiculously excited about wearing maternity clothes and showing you off before you're even born." I whispered, feeling myself perk up, even through the icky feeling, at the thought of the world knowing that there would be another little Lopez-Pierce, at the baby physically responding to Brittany's voice the way Annie had responded to mine, at Annie pressing her little hands against my stomach to feel her baby brother or sister play with her. "I love you, little one, and I really am sorry for you having to hear me like that, because even though your ears aren't ready yet, I'm still pretty sure you know what's going on. But I promise you, I was angry and scary like that for a long time, but I'm really, really not anymore"

"Isn't that the truth?" Brittany smiled from where she was watching me in the doorway, with a teacup in her hand. "How's your bath?"

"So good. You're going to spoil me, babe."

"If my running baths for you would spoil you, you'd have turned rotten years ago." She laughed, and then her face turned serious. "I just got off the phone with Dr. Singh."

"What did she say? Does she think I have hyperemesis gravidarum? Oh God, is she going to make me go to the hospital? Am I going to have to get a feeding tube? Fuck, I am, aren't I? And then my mother is going to move in here with us and try to force feed me my great-grandmother's cure-all-ills chicken liver soup, and if she makes me eat that, then I'll never stop throwing up-"

"Whoa Dr. Internet, breathe for a second and let me talk." Britt sat down on the edge of the tub again, handing me the cup of peppermint tea. She laced her fingers through those on my free hand and kissed my knuckles. "She's just going to call in a prescription for some different anti-nausea pills, they're better than the over the counter ones, and no, she doesn't think anything is wrong with you. I swear, I think we need to bring back the no internet research rule, because you're starting to scare me with your knowledge of medical terms."

"She doesn't think there's anything wrong with me?" My heart felt like it had skipped a beat, and I kind of knew that Brittany was right about me needing to stay off the internet. Between WebMD and about four hours of reading about the Thalidomide crisis, I was becoming even more paranoid than I'd been while Britt was pregnant with Annie.

"No, especially because your mom went through the same thing. And you know that hyper-whatever, I actually did read about that too, but I'm not going to attempt to say it, only effects like point-two percent of women, right?"

"Yes." I felt a small smile play at the corner of my mouth as I thought of all the times Brittany had been able to give me a reality check without sounding patronizing. "But it would really suck to have that. I thought I was going to have to have all of my morning sickness, plus what you never had."

"I'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that." She laughed, obviously glad that I was smiling, and sort of joking about it. "But, she also said that if you still can't keep anything down tonight, that she wants us to come in tomorrow morning."

"Okay." I was willing to accept that, since it was so much better than all the other scenarios that had run through my head.

"Rachel offered for Annie to stay over tonight, they're going to stop by in a little while to get her stuff. And before you start to worry, she's excited."

"I won't worry, or, I won't worry that much. They're the only people she'll stay with. But I do want to see her before she leaves."

"Of course." Britt smiled and I kissed the inside of her wrist, not even knowing how to express everything I was feeling. "Looks like it's Brittany and Santana night, it's been too long since we've had one of those."

"Yeah, except unfortunately I probably won't feel up to doing what we usually do on our alone nights."

"What?" She looked at me, mouth agape, and then winked. "No Sweet Valley High? And I was just going to go dig out the old DVDs that I know you never got rid of."

"Hey, those are important relics of our past, I saved them so our kids can see where we came from."

"Yeah, maybe our kids shouldn't know about us sneaking around at fifteen for sweet lady kisses. But if you saved them for us, then you know I'll never say no to popping in some Sweet Valley High and getting our cuddle on."

"Did you just quote me?" I laughed for real, so glad that the medicine already seemed to be doing something. "I love you, dork."

"And I love you more, pukey."

After I'd finished my tea, and the tub had gotten so full that I could no longer add water to keep it warm, I got myself out (progress!), and all wrapped up in one of the thick terry cloth robes my parents had given us for Christmas years earlier, and that we rarely used, I got back into bed. Britt had found the insanely soft flannel sheets (yeah, yeah, insert lesbian flannel joke here) that I'd ordered online when I wasn't sure how cold our house would get in the winter (not very), and I snuggled into them, secretly thinking they were even better than the ridiculously expensive Egyptian cotton ones that I'd thrown up on. Settling me with some ginger ale, Britt ran out to the pharmacy, and probably to call her assistant choreographer to see how things were going over there. Finally comforted, I actually felt like I could put things in perspective, and while I would have thought I'd be embarrassed by my outburst, I wasn't. I just wanted to be able to properly explain what I'd been feeling to Britt. I'd made her a promise that I wouldn't shut her out when I was having a hard time, and it wasn't a promise I'd break.

I was surprised that I'd fallen asleep again, but I knew by the waning daylight outside the window that it had actually been for a decent amount of time. Through the cracked open bedroom door, I could hear Brittany talking to Annie in her bedroom, and I smiled at the thought of getting to hug my baby girl. Several more minutes passed before I heard her timid little knock, and I called out for her to come in, shuffling my body so I was sitting up against the headboard. When she pushed open the door, she ran up to the side of the bed with Milky Way under one arm, and the butterfly net that Liz had bought for her under the other.

"Mamí!" She cried out, bouncing up and down on her toes excitedly. "I missed you so, so much today."

"Oh, mija." I took her things from her and carefully helped her climb up onto the bed with me. "I missed you so much too. Did you have a nice day at school and with Aunt Rachel and Brice."

"Yup!" Annie snuggled up into my lap and I kissed the top of her head, breathing in everything about her. "And now we're gonna have a sleepover!"

"How lucky are you?" I squeezed her tighter to me, having already missed her in the hours she was gone, and knowing I'd miss her even more overnight. "Are you bringing you butterfly net with you?"

"Oh, no." She shrugged, looking up at me with those blue eyes. "That's for you."

"For me?"

"Course Mamí. For the bug."

"The bug?" I wasn't sure if I'd been so sick when I'd dropped her off at school that I'd missed an entire conversation, but I honestly had no recollection of anything about a bug.

"Yeah, silly. Mama said you got a bug hurting your belly, and now you can use my net to catch it and let it go out the window. But make sure you don't squash it, because that will be really sad." She looked at me expectantly, hoping for a promise that I wouldn't kill the bug, and I couldn't do anything but hold her against me and kiss her all over her little face.

"Corazoncita, I'll make sure to keep the bug very safe." I smiled at the double meaning of the words that went far beyond what my daughter could understand. "Your net is a wonderful idea though, thank you so much for letting me borrow it."

"You're very welcome." She rolled off of my lap and grabbed Milky Way, pressing him against my chest. "And Milky Way says he'll stay with you to make you feel better. He's the best at that."

"My sweet girl." I could feel tears start to well in my eyes at just how incredible she was. "Thank you for that, but I think Milky Way has something a little more important to do tonight."

"What?"

"I need him to stay with you, because I won't be there to kiss you goodnight. And what does Mama say is the most magical power that unicorns have?"

"Oh! I know! It's that they can carry kisses in their horn and always make sure the right person gets them." She repeated the made up legend that Brittany had taught her the first time she was old enough to realize what it meant to sleep somewhere without us. Genius, seriously.

"That's right, mi amor, and I need to make sure that you get my goodnight kiss tonight, and I'm sure Mama wants you to get her's too, so I think he should go with you."

"Well." Annie considered that for a minute, lips pursed in intense concentration. "What about you? How will you get my goodnight-feel better kiss?"

"Don't worry, I have all of your kisses saved up inside of my heart. Now here, Milky Way, this job you have is very, very important." I lifted Milky Way up to my lips and kissed his horn while Annie giggled beside me. "Un beso de duces sueños por mi Annalise."

"Y un beso porqué te amo mucho." Annie wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me one of her sweet little kisses before resting her head against my chest to listen to my heartbeat. "An extra one, just in case."

"I love you so very much, Annalise. I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay, Mamí. I hope you feel much better then."

After Annie scrambled down off the bed, I took a sip of the water that Britt must have left while I was sleeping. I loved that the Emetrol had made me feel so much better, and sort of hated it at the same time. Sighing, I listened to the commotion downstairs as Brittany got Annie out the door, and a few minutes later, she came into the room, a soft smile on her face as she paused for an instant in the doorway. When she sat down on the bed beside me, my body instinctively curled into hers, and she kissed the shell of my ear before silently running her fingers through my tangled hair.

"Britt." I looked up to find so much warmth in her blue eyes, and she stilled her motions. "I love you, like so much that it's scary."

"It shouldn't scare you, because I love you just as much."

"Everything feels scarier right now." I confessed in a breathy whisper.

"You can talk to me, Santana. You know that saying the words out loud sometimes helps to put things into perspective. It's just me and you right now, and helping you mark sense of what's going on in your head is just as much taking care of you as running you a bath. I remember that feeling too, you know, when suddenly everything feels so big and terrifying."

"Really? I just feel like you were so good at being pregnant."

"It was a completely different pregnancy, and yeah, physically I was lucky, but I had my freak out moments too."

"I'm sorry I didn't-"

"Oh no, we're not rehashing all of that now." She shook her head and kissed me softly on the lips. "The only reason I'm even bringing it up is so you don't feel so alone. So talk to me, tell me what's scaring you."

"Okay." I breathed, taking her arms and wrapping them around my middle so her hands were resting on my stomach, the way I felt most safe and loved. "Rationally, I know I'm being ridiculous, and kind of bordering on high school era Rachel Berry melodrama, but bare with me, okay?"

"Of course." I felt Brittany's small chuckle against me side, and I pressed back further into her.

"I'm freaking out about needing to interrupt you at work when you're so busy, I'm really, really scared that I need to take these stupid drugs, because even after everything, I still find myself associating putting something foreign in my body with weakness, with giving up the fight. I'm not even scared about the drugs hurting the baby, I trust Dr. Singh so much, but I'm scared about me hurting them, about passing down all the things I hate about myself into this helpless little life."

"San." Brittany buried her face in my hair, and I could feel her breath tickling my scalp. "I wish, so much, that just for one day you could see yourself through my eyes, that you could love youthe way I love you. You know that love doesn't make you blind, you see my flaws and I see yours, but when I think about who the person growing inside of you is going to become, do you know what I see?"

"What?"

"I see this beautifully stubborn child, once they put their mind to something, there will be no turning back. And sometimes, like I've seen with you and all the things you've beat, that stubbornness is necessary, but other times, it'll drive us, especially you, absolutely insane. They'll be the best kind of good hearted, the kind where they don't recognize it, and that makes it so much better because they're not doing good deeds for show, but because they really believe in it. They'll think they're tough, but really, they're a big ball of sweetness and mush, and the ones they love, us, their sister, the rest of our family will get to feel this intense love that comes from them. They'll be amazing, Santana, flaws and all, just like you are."

"Brittany." I looked into her eyes again, and they were as filled with tears as I knew mine were.

"I want you to know that taking something so you can feed yourself and feed our baby doesn't make you weak. I know you wanted a completely drug free pregnancy, and I'm so, so proud of you that you don't want to let anything compromise your sobriety in the slightest, but what you're taking is mostly vitamins, it's not something that even remotely threatens that."

"I know, I do, when I can think rationally. But it made me think about other things too. I need you to make me a promise, B. Obviously I get emotional and agree to anything when I'm sick, but six months from now, when we are in the delivery room, no matter what I say, or what I think is a good idea, please, just don't let them give me anything."

"That, I absolutely can promise you. Can you promise me something too, for real this time? Promise me that in the future, if you're feeling even half as bad as you did this morning, that you'll call me without hesitating?"

"Britt, you're working so hard right now." I tried to protest. "This is your big, important thing."

"No, this." She rubbed one hand on my belly and cupped my cheek with the other. "Is my big important thing. Bigger and more important than the whole universe, remember? I'm a choreographer, and yeah, my job is important to me, but I'm not a brain surgeon, or the President of the United States. And honestly, even if I was Hillary Clinton and had to leave the Prime Minister of England sitting in the Oval Office, I would."

"It's a good thing you're not." I laughed, and tilted my head up to kiss her fully. "I think foreign relations would suffer greatly."

"Oh my God, Rick said exactly the same thing when I said that to him before. I told him, by the way."

"Ugh, did he say something vaguely passive aggressive about it?"

"No, surprisingly. Although it could be because I told him I was taking maternity leave in the summer, not when things are actually busy around there, so it softened the blow. But he said to pass his congratulations on to you."

"Well, I guess we are ticking down the list of people we have to tell."

"Yeah, we still have the biggest one though."

"That we do. I want to wait though, until I feel better, Britt. I prefer her thinking it's a bug making me sick than her new sibling." I smiled, gesturing over to the butterfly net and Brittany giggled.

"She's the best, seriously. But I agree with you, and it's still too far away for her to really understand, and once you're showing, it'll be easier for her to get it."

"Absolutely."

We lay there together for a while before I decided that I needed to get out of the room, out of the house, and just breathe, even if it was only for a few minutes. After pulling on sweatpants that were just a little too tight in the waist, Brittany and I bundled up in our heaviest coats (I was so glad my body didn't feel like it was on fire anymore, at least there was that) and walked hand in hand out of the house. The burn in the back of my throat from inhaling the ice cold air was surprisingly settling, and I closed my eyes for an instant just to savor it. When we were halfway to Washington Square Park, stopping to see how other people had decorated their houses (we were a little behind in that respect), the snow started to fall in big, thick flakes. It wasn't even the first snow of the year, but there was just something about Brittany and snowflakes that made me feel almost irrationally happy, especially given how totally miserable I'd felt for about ninety-percent of the day. Pulling her by the hand, she spun herself into my arms, and I grabbed her cheeks with my gloved hands, kissing her in front of the Capital One bank on Bleecker Street like we were in some kind of cheesy romantic Christmas in New York movie with terribly overt product placement. That right then, that feeling of elation, the stark contrast to the anguish I'd felt hours earlier, anguish not wholly related to feeling sick, may have been the very definition of a mood swing.

"Feeling better?" Brittany asked, smiling against my lips as she twirled a strand of hair that had come loose from my messy ponytail.

"A lot." I tugged one of the strings that hung from her hat and watched the flakes catch in her eyelashes. "You look so pretty right now. I mean, you look so pretty always, but the snow, and the Christmas lights, and just, all the ways you make me feel okay, you look even more beautiful."

"My Santana." Happy tears sparkled in her eyes, and she pulled me closer to her, kissing me again. "This might be the most perfect date night."

"Just standing in the street, giving a free show to all the people passing by?"

"You know it's never been about where we go, or what we do. Having even a moment of time where we just exist, with each other, that's what makes it special for me.

"Such a charmer. How about we make it a real date night, and go get some ice cream? I know it's not real food, and it's like twenty-six degrees, but I feel like maybe-definitely I could actually swallow some caramel pretzel ice cream."

"Oh, now you're the charmer. You had me at ice cream, baby."

We laughed, and even when we tried to stop, one of us would let out another giggle or a snort (totally not me) and then we'd start up again. Maybe I'd never get to the point where I'd love myself the way Brittany loved me, or the way I loved Brittany, but every single moment that something simple and magical happened, I thought maybe, just maybe, I got a little bit closer. Tucking the hand that held tightly to Brittany's in my coat pocket, we started walking again. I'd hold out hope that the few hours that the pills had helped wasn't a fluke, that I wouldn't go back to being needy and miserable, that I'd get that on top of the world, I can do anything (in between dying for sex, all the time) feeling, but either way, I knew I'd be okay, knew that I'd overcome so much more than just a rough pregnancy. And catching my wife's eyes again, seeing the adoring smile that played on her lips as she tapped my side from the inside of my coat told me that she believed in it, believed in me, just as much.

End Note: So Santana is on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, as evidenced by all of her crazy ups and downs this chapter, but like I've promised before, things won't get too angsty!