Santana's apartment looked as though a paper mill had exploded within the confines of her living room. She'd yet to have a chance to pick up any residual midterm study guides or books from previous exams, and Brittany had seriously suggested they think about building a fort out of the expanse of Red Bull cans littering the kitchen counter. If it weren't for the fact that her next, and last, test was t-minus seven hours and fifty two minutes away, she'd have taken the blonde up on that offer - or the one that involved hurling her books at the cans as if they were bowling.
"Definition of memory."
"The ability to store and retrieve information over time," she recited exactly, more than pleased when Brittany flipped the note card over and added it to the growing stack of correct answers she had piled up on the coffee table.
"Visual Imagery Encoding," she prompted.
"The process of storing new information by converting it into mental pictures," she replied, scrunching her eyebrows slightly and turning her gaze upward as if it would help her remember more clearly. She received a swift peck on the lips for yet another correct response, and grinned to herself.
"That one was easy though. You do that all the time. It's like your brain is a camera too," Brittany mused, smiling shyly. She flipped the small piece of paper over in her hand, placing it on the very top of the stack on the table to her right, effectively leaving her hands void of any more index cards.
"I think I'm ready," Santana stated resolutely, nodding once for emphasis.
"I sincerely hope so," Brittany quipped in response, pressing their lips together while simultaneously pressing the brunette's back against the arm of the couch. Within moments, it wasn't simply her mouth that the blonde was exploring, and as a warm hand reached beneath Santana's sweatpants, Brittany hummed in approval. "Definitely ready."
"Mama, can you seriously even comprehend how awkward this is?" she essentially barked into the phone, rolling her eyes and mouthing a Really? to Brittany when she'd caught her girlfriend's gaze. "It's really awkward, for the record. Like, on a scale of one to Michael Cera, I'm anticipating this conversation to conclude at approximately a level twelve." She paused, huffing slightly as she flopped onto the bench outside, settling her legs over the blonde's and pulling a carton out of her purse. She murmured affirmations to Ms. Puckerman on the other line, placing the cigarette between her lips before Brittany promptly removed it and smashed it beneath her shoe.
She opened her mouth to protest, but the blonde waggled a finger at her. "We said we were quitting. Emergencies only."
Santana pouted before covering the mouthpiece of her phone with her hand. "Mama Puck is asking questions about our sex life. I consider this an emergency Britt." Despite her attempts at muffling her voice, April could be heard clearly on the other end of the line, responding to the brunette's whine. "We're fine, I swear. Have you been talking to Megan?" There was a pause as she waited out the explanation. "Yeah, I figured. Holly too, I'm guessing? Because she's the only one who would phrase it that way. I could practically hear your air quoting from here."
What little Brittany heard was muffled noises and the occasional, I'm just concerned or emotional scarring, but tried her best to pretend she wasn't attempting to eavesdrop.
"It took a while, but I'm okay Mama. Britt's been her wonderful self, and I think her performance helped us both a lot more than we'd admit. So please don't worry, okay? We'll see you and Puck tonight for dinner. I love you." She hit the end button on her phone and collapsed back against the bench, huffing her bangs out of her eyes.
"Can you see why she's concerned?" Brittany asked quietly after a while, side-eyeing her girlfriend.
"As much as I hate when you pull the voice of reason card, yes. I can. Doesn't make it any less awkward though. In other news, in the Things I Actually Don't Mind Talking About broadcast," she paused, holding back a grin, "I'm pretty sure I aced my midterm."
"Of course you did," she heard from over her shoulder, the voice prompting a knee-jerk reaction, her legs almost hitting Brittany in the face. The woman gave the girls both a moment to collect themselves before speaking again. "I've got a proposition for you two."
"For someone with rustling skirts, you're mad ninja at sneaking up on us Mrs. Sonnier," Santana muttered, while the blonde simply cocked her head to the side, indicating that she, at least, was listening.
"Danielle and I have a friend's gallery opening to go to tomorrow night, and we were wondering if there was any way to swindle you two into watching Tommy for us for the evening? It would only be a few hours, and - "
"Yes!"
"Yes?" Santana echoed in disbelief, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline. Noting the warning signs of the most convincing pout to date, she gave in quickly. "I mean, of course. We'd love to." The sound of a whip echoed in the confines of her skull, and she shook her head to clear the bouncing noise from between her ears. The photography teacher handed her a slip of paper with an address, telling them to be there at 6:30, and sidled away shortly after. Incredulous brown eyes met nearly guilty blue, and pressing a kiss to Brittany's temple, the brunette stood. "I've got to get to work, but you should know that you owe me, big time.Like back massages for life, homemade chocolate cake, I receive your first born child owe me."
Santana turned to walk away, thankfully shielding the shy smile playing on her lips when the blonde called out to her back, "You do realize that my first born is probably already going to be yours, right?"
Three teenagers sat curled up on the couch, the only sound audible over the explosions of the television screen being the running water in the kitchen as April Puckerman began the dinner's dishes. Both Puck and Brittany twisted their bodies as their characters ran across the screen, throwing grenades into abandoned buildings, thumbs moving furiously across the controllers.
"This is bullshit," Puck exclaimed, receiving a reproaching comment from his mother in the kitchen. "How are you so good at Call of Duty Britts?"
"I'm better with my fingers than you are," she replied, shrugging noncommittally and focusing her gaze on Santana for a second before returning her eyes to the screen.
"Speaking of, when are you gonna get married and start making lady babies? I'm ready to be an uncle, and you two don't seem to be making much progress."
"Not due to lack of trying," she smirked, nudging him in the shoulder as Santana stood, crossing in front of the TV and meandering her way into the kitchen, trying to avoid the growing level of uncomfortable tension in the room.
"Mama?" she whispered, leaning her head onto April's shoulder once she'd settled in front of the sink. "Can I talk to you?"
"Of course sweetheart. What's on your mind?" It was obvious from the tone in Santana's voice that this wasn't headed in a lighthearted direction, and when her hazel eyes flicked to her daughter's face, she saw nothing but confliction and panic reflected. "You know what?" she finally said, seeing that the young woman didn't seem anywhere near ready to speak. "Go grab your jacket and your cigarettes - " The look of disbelief on Santana's face provoked a chuckle from April's lips. "Yes, I know you smoke, and you look like you need one." She received a sheepish look in response. "We're going to go take a walk."
The streets were dark, illuminated only by the occasional sprinkling of street lights and the warmth flooding from house windows, but despite Santana's fear, she felt safe as the pair walked up and down the sidewalks of the neighborhood.
"You want to propose." It wasn't a question. In the four word sentence, no gentle lilt at the end was present, no hesitation, and no doubt. It was as pure a statement of truth as there ever was. The young girl nodded, but said nothing. "And you're worried - terrified, actually. You don't know if it's too soon, or if she'd say yes, or how you would even begin to know that she's the one you're meant to spend the rest of your life with." Another nod was given.
"My advice is, given that Can I talk to you typically means, in Lopez language, I need your help but I don't have the words to ask for it, to wait it out. I, from the bottom of my heart, don't believe she's going anywhere. You're eighteen sweetheart. You may have grown up fast, and unfairly, and you may have far too many responsibilities for someone your age, but you're not an adult yet - neither of you are. The fact that she's willing, and excited, to move in with you next year is an indication of her commitment. I know that right now eight months seems like a lifetime to you, but you still have sixty years to be with her - to build a life together, to grow together, to become who you two are both meant to be. There's no rush in that. Being married changes a lot, and I want you to be able to enjoy being complete idiots while you still can, without feeling that you aren't acting as you should, just because you have a ring on your finger."
Santana nodded a third time, much more resolutely. The words continued to float around in her head, sinking into the furthest corners of her brain as they settled, one by one. "Can I show you something?" She reached underneath her jacket, pulling a long silver chain out from beneath her shirt. Dangling at the end, spinning slightly, was an asscher cut diamond, glinting against the street lamp's light. The jewel was flanked by smaller diamonds, with two sapphires at the base, nearest the main piece. "It was my mother's. In their will, it specifically said not to release the ring into my possession until I had found the girl I wanted to marry. I went to my trustee last week - "
"Your parents will said until you found the girl you wanted to marry?" April cut in with incredulity.
Santana nodded, smiling. "My parents knew before I did. My dad tried to put stipulations on it, saying that it needed to be a blonde, but I'm pretty sure my mom vetoed that, and instead it was suggested," she used air quotes, "in an accompanying letter."
"Well, after this talk, what exactly do you plan on doing with that ring sweetheart?"
"It'll stay around my neck for a few years I think. You were right in saying there was no rush, but we all know I'm not exactly patient," she finished, giving a self-deprecating laugh.
April pulled her into a tight hug before they headed up the front steps of the house, shutting the door behind them as they heard a distinctly female voice yell, "HEAD SHOT!"
Her head bobbled in recognition as she took in her surroundings. To be perfectly frank, Santana wasn't absorbing a single word Mollie and Danielle were saying - their directions were floating in one ear and out of the other as her gaze roamed the plush red sectional couch, the expanse of photographs across the walls, and the simplistic accents of the modern decor. She held a strong suspicion that Danielle had decorated most of the home, because let's face it - Mrs. Sonnier was a hippie, born and bred. Santana was expecting incense and mismatched pillows and perhaps a hookah.
"So, the emergency numbers are on the side of the fridge, and - "
"They got it Moll." Danielle rested a reassuring hand on her back before slipping around her waist to guide her out of the front door. She turned back to Brittany, speaking once more. "We'll be home around eleven, and I'll text you if we'll be late for whatever reason."
Both girls nodded, letting out a sigh of relief when the door finally shut behind the older couple. They spun around simultaneously, three sets of eyes locking on one another. Tommy stood silently in the center of the living room, hands clasped behind his back. After giving them an obvious once over, he flicked his eyes downward and shuffled towards the coffee table, sitting on the floor with a plop in front of an open coloring book and crayons. Brittany took this opportunity to go and stir up something for dinner - chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese - while Santana shifted nervously from one foot to the other before electing to sit down a foot away from the toddler, perched on the edge of the couch. With speed rivaling the sloth-like pace of continental drifting, Tommy spent the twenty minutes Brittany stayed in the kitchen to slowly but surely edge himself closer to the brunette on the couch.
As she swung back in, three plates balanced in her arms, the blonde crouched down in front of the little boy, meeting him at eye level. "Would you like some juice honey?" She placed a hand on his arm, recoiling slightly when Tommy pulled away and shook his head. "Well, what would you like to drink? Would you like milk?" Her voice was sickly sweet, and he shook his head once more. Trying to shield her frustration, she shifted her gaze to Santana, who shrugged, but leaned forward, running her fingers through the top of the little boy's dark hair.
"My mom used to make me chocolate milk when I ate chicken nuggets. Would you like that?" He turned to her and nodded, smiling brightly, prompting Brittany to stand to her full height, heading back toward the kitchen.
His smile disappeared immediately. "I want 'Tana to make it."
The brunette shrugged in her girlfriend's direction before offering her hand to Tommy, the small child following her to the kitchen with no further complaints. As she mixed in the syrup, she caught his gaze. "You know, Britt is really sweet. I think she wants to be her friend."
He seemed to consider this for a second, then upon deliberating, delivered a response far beyond the years of a four year old. "She tries too hard. You don't."
"Well then," she said, bending down to place the sippie cup between his still slightly pudgy fingers, "will you try with her?"
He nodded before wrapping his arms around her neck. "A boy at day care, Josh, told me I'm not 'sposed to have two moms, you know? But I think my two moms is awesome, and I think you and Brittany is gonna be two moms that is awesome too."
Santana cupped his cheek gently, trying unsuccessfully to fight the smile creeping across her features and the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "Thanks buddy. I think we're going to be awesome too." As she stood, slipping a bent pointer finger beneath her eyes to wipe at the tears, he slipped his tiny, albeit somehow sticky, hand in her free one, dragging her into the living room.
Once the plates were clean, and Tommy's Lego princess was saved from the fire-breathing dragon by his other Lego princess, the three settled in to watch a movie before the little boy had to be sent to bed. However, two hours later, when Mollie and Danielle came home, they found the trio curled up on the couch, all fast asleep. Brittany was flopped over the arm of the sofa, legs bent, with Santana's head tucked into the curve of her knees. Most surprisingly to the pair, Tommy was sleeping just as soundly as the two teenagers, pressed into the brunette's stomach while she had a protective arm wrapped around him, holding the child close.
"Just leave them," Danielle whispered. "We can talk to them about the trip in the morning." Mollie nodded before leaving a feather-light kiss to their son's head. He squirmed slightly under her touch, but Santana's arm pulled him back immediately, wrapping him more tightly, whereupon he settled once again into a deep sleep.
"Brittany, Santana, there's something we would like to talk to you about." The two girls, with Tommy sat between them, exchanged a worried glance that the little boy didn't fail to notice.
He grasped both of their hands before leaning into the blonde's side, attempting, and failing spectacularly, to whisper words of reassurance. His hushed tones could have echoed enough to be heard across the house. "I don't think you're in trouble Britty. When I'm in trouble, Mama says 'Thomas Michael Sonnier!' real loud." His admittance thankfully broke the tension of the living room, and both girls, giggling, returned their gaze to the couple standing a few feet away.
"Mollie and I are planning a little road trip, in June, to Chicago," Danielle began hesitantly, unsure of where to allow her wife to cut in. "We wanted to know if you'd accompany us, seeing as you'll both have graduated, and Mollie will no longer be your teacher Santana."
The two exchanged a second glance, this one more questioning, and significantly less fearful. Brittany shrugged, switching her gaze between the older couple, their son, and her girlfriend. "Okay."
Being the admittedly more guarded of the pair, Santana didn't fold so easily. "Where are we going?" She paused, furrowing her brow in thought. "And why do you want us to come?"
Mollie jumped in at that moment, with Danielle letting out an immense sigh of relief. "They have a Pride weekend in Chicago in June, and I think it would be good for you Santana." A sharp pain flooded her left side, and she winced, fighting the urge to clutch the scar on her abdomen and run out of the front door. Instead, she settled on pulling her arms closer to her stomach and fiddling with her charm bracelet. The actions didn't go unnoticed, and it was sheer moments before Tommy was plopped on Brittany's lap, and she'd been pulled into her girlfriend's side, a strong arm wrapped around her waist.
"Mama got a tattoo last year. But we could just get matching rainbow flags 'Tana," the little boy tried. "And we could watch the parade together." She was learning quickly that the shy smiles Tommy would send her way were nearly as crippling as Brittany's pout. She didn't have a shot in hell.
Her shoulders slumped, all the fight pulled out of her, she finally nodded. "But if those Westboro bible thumpers come anywhere near me, I will not be held responsible for my actions, understood?"
She felt the remains of her own slick heat against Brittany's thigh as she pressed further into her, curling her fingers at the slightest of an angle. Within moments, she was being flooded, coated in serenity, as she noted the arch of her girlfriend's back, the barely parted lips allowing small puffs of air to be exhaled, the twitches in her thigh muscles. Santana was embraced by a warmth of unconditional love, blanketed by unbridled passion, and woven into the connection that buzzed between their bodies, shooting sparks of electricity when she very least expected it. Allowing herself several minutes to absorb the feelings coursing through her, she finally collapsed next to her girlfriend, tickling up the side of her abdomen while Brittany's fingers brushed through her hair.
"What are you thinking about?" she whispered, not in any rush to break the spell that had fallen around them.
Brittany tugged her just slightly closer before responding. "You're going to make an amazing mother." Before Santana had a chance to protest, she continued. "I know you probably don't think so, but you will be. Tommy adores you."
"He likes you too," she refuted quickly.
"He warmed up to me." Her fingers moved from Santana's hair to trace shapes into her spine. She paused for just a moment, weighing her next words heavily. "Do you want kids?"
"I didn't. I used to worry about something happening to me, and having them left to be raised by someone else, but that worry is slowly fading away. I think I want kids - I do."
Brittany thanked the heavens that Santana was currently nestled into her chest, because the tears cascading down her cheeks were coming fast, and she found herself unable to fight them. "Do you remember what you told me the night we met Sophie?" She felt her girlfriend's cheek move just slightly against her, a soft smile appearing before she nodded. "I don't think I've ever loved you more than I do in this moment, and I can't help but think that the only time I could ever love you more would be if - "
Santana lifted off her chest, meeting the tear stained face and wan smile. "If what beautiful?" she whispered, running her thumbs along Brittany's cheeks to wipe the residual moisture away.
"It's stupid."
The brunette's heart fluttered slightly, hoping with all she possessed that she wasn't mistaken as to where her girlfriend had been headed with this conversation. "Nothing you think, or dream, or hope for is stupid Britt."
"Seeing you with Tommy - I just - it was so easy to imagine you glowing, with the tiniest of a baby bump. You would be the absolute cutest pregnant woman, and I just - " She sighed, her eyelids fluttering closed as she reimagined the idea in her head. "I think if we ever got to that point, I wouldn't possibly be able to love you more than then."
Santana ran her thumb along Brittany's cheekbone just once more, before leaning into a lingering kiss, hoping her body could convey the flurry of emotions bursting within her frame. "We'll get there Britt. I know we will."
AN: As promised, fluff, fluff, and more fluff for you beautiful readers. :) Nearly four thousand words of fluff, which is probably a chapter record for this fic. Haha. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I'm incredibly pleased with how it turned out. Shoot me a review if you'd like, with criticism, suggestions, etc. Thanks again for reading! I'll update asap.