Author's Note: Thanks for your reviews. Not much happening in this chapter, just sort of leading in to the final chapters. I hope you enjoy!

Quinn shakes her head at the sound of vocal exercises resonating through her house. She's cooking dinner and Rachel is giving Hannah a voice lesson. She's pretty sure that the sound is echoing more than usual because of the emptiness of the house; there are packed boxes everywhere, some furniture has already been moved, and nothing hangs on the walls anymore.

"Mom, Hannah sounds so annoying," Lily says, walking into the kitchen, big headphones covering her ears.

"Where did you even get those?" Quinn says, taking the oversize headphones off of Lily's head.

"Aunt S. She says they're totally cool and vintage." Quinn rolls her eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing your homework?"

"Can't focus, mom, they're too annoying."

"Put the headphones back on and go up to your room. I know you can't hear them from there, Lil." Quinn says.

"Can I help you with dinner instead?"

"Wow, someone must really not want to do her homework is she's offering to help." Lily shrugs.

"We'll work on it together after we eat, okay, Lily?" Lily doesn't respond, just scrambles to grab the stool the girls use when they help their mother cook. "Lillian?" Quinn asks.

"Yeah, mom, sure." Lily says, rolling her eyes.

"Thank you," Quinn says, smiling down at her daughter. "Can you grate this cheese for me?" Lily nods and Quinn ruffles her hair before returning to her cooking.

"This ain't cheese, mom," Lily says, picking up the wedge of cashew cheese.

"Lily. This isn't cheese." Quinn shakes her head. "I really need to limit the amount of time you spend with Santana," she says under her breath, mostly to herself, as she returns to her cooking.

"So, Maria, when are you going to invite salsa-man over for dinner?" Brittany asks as they sit down for dinner.

"Oh," Maria says, blushing, "I don't know if we're ready for that just yet, dear. How's that music video you're working on?"

"Clever, mom, trying to change the subject," Santana says. "Seriously, invite him over for dinner, we want to meet the man you've been off galavanting with."

"We're not galavanting."

"How about Wednesday evening?"

"Santana."

"Mom, as long as you live under my roof, I have the right to know what kind of company you're keeping." Santana says, smirking.

"I can't wait until they're teenagers," Maria says, gesturing to the children. "I'm going to have so much fun. The fights in this house…they're going to be epic."

"That's not nice, Maria," Brittany says. "We just want to meet your boyfriend."

"First of all, Brittany, you have met him. Second of all, I'm 65 years old, I don't think we can call any men I'm around a boyfriend anymore."

"But you are dating him, then?" Brittany asks, with a mischievous smile.

"Fine, Wednesday is fine," Maria says exasperated. "If only it will get you girls to stop talking about it." Santana high-fives Brittany.

"Well played, baby."

"You know it," Brittany says, returning to her food.

"Smells good in here," Rachel says, holding Hannah's hand as they enter the kitchen.

"Did you hear me, mom?" Hannah asks Quinn, tugging on the hem of her dress.

"Of course, we all heard you, dork," Lily says.

"Lily!" Quinn scolds. "Be nice to your sister! And, yes, sweetheart, you sounded lovely," she says, looking at Hannah. "Dinner is almost ready, can you three go wash your hands?" The girls don't respond, just run out of the room chasing each other into the bathroom. "And don't run inside!" Quinn yells after them.

"It really does smell good, Quinn." Rachel says, leaning back against the counter next to where Quinn was working.

"Thank you," Quinn says, blushing a little. "It's vegan lasagna."

"Well, it smells delicious. Thanks so much for having me over." Quinn laughed.

"We have to stop this."

"Stop what?"

"This ridiculous thanking each other thing we do every time we're together. I love you," Quinn says, hesitating slightly but with a smile. She leans down a gives Rachel a soft, chaste kiss. "I want to spend time with you. As much time as possible."

"I love you too," Rachel says grinning. "God, it feels so good to say that! I love you, Quinn Fabray." They're about to kiss again before the girls come running in.

"I love you too, mommy!" Harper says. "And you too, Rach!"

"Oh, there is just so much love in this room," Quinn laughs, rolling her eyes as she hugs Harper. "Let's take this love to the table, I'm starving."

"I want to plan our next date," Brittany says as they sit on the couch scrolling through the instant stream options on Netflix.

"I thought we were doing Little Dom's?" Santana asks.

"Well that's what I wanted to do."

"So, wouldn't that be you planning our date?"

"No, I know you've have a lot of work lately, and you've taken me out on our last couple amazing dates, and I think it's your turn to be treated like a lady."

"You always treat me like a lady, Britt," Santana says, taking her eyes off the television to smile at her wife. "But, if you insist, I have no opposition to being taken out."

"Good," Brittany says, kissing Santana on the lips.

"Mom!" Santana quietly yells from the couch, careful not to wake the children. "Get in here so we can pick out a movie!" Brittany snuggles closer into Santana.

"I'll ask Quinn about babysitting," Brittany says.

"Sounds good, B." Santana says, placing a light kiss on Brittany's lips. Brittany smiles into the kiss, parting Santana's lips slightly with her tongue. "We're gonna watch a movie," Santana whispers into Brittany's lips as Brittany's fingers tangle in her hair, pulling them closer together.

"Your mom's not here yet," Brittany whispers back, leaning in again to connect their lips.

"You know, you're supposed to grow out of this at some point." Maria says as she walks into the living room. "I've been walking in on you two making out in living rooms for sixteen years."

"One, you were taking forever and we got bored. Two, it hasn't been that long, mom. You make us sound ancient."

"Oh, please, Santana. You two always thought you were so sneaky. Didn't you ever wonder why everyone in our family knew you were a lesbian? For someone who wanted so fiercely to stay in the closet, you certainly made out with Brittany in the most public of places."

"Whatever. Pick a movie, so I can go upstairs with my wife."

"You may be married now, but I still really don't want to hear about your sex life," Maria says, picking up the remote to flip through the Netflix options. Brittany trails her finger up and down Santana's arm. "Everyday I get more and more excited for those children wreaking havoc upon this household as teenagers. Turnabout is fair play, my Santana, and you know, one day, little Olivia will be making out on this very couch."

"Mom!" Santana yells. "Enough."

"It's true." Maria says. Look at my life."

"I really hope we have new couches by the time Olivia and Nico are thirty." Brittany says. Santana laughs, kisses Brittany on the lips, and settles in for the movie.

Rachel is sitting on top of Quinn, her legs straddling Quinn's lap. She kisses her softly, and rests her hand over Quinn's rapidly beating heart before moving her hand up to gently touch Quinn's lips, red and swollen from kissing.

"I think we're ready to take this to the bedroom," Rachel says, huskily, into Quinn's neck.

"I think so too," Quinn whispers. Rachel smiles. "But, not tonight."

"Quinn, I appreciate that you want to take things slow, and that you want to make sure this is serious, but I can't help but feel like the reason you are taking things so slowly with me is that you aren't actually sure that you want to be with me."

"Honey, please calm down," Quinn says.

"No, Quinn, I'm not going to calm down."

"First of all, Rachel, my children are upstairs. That's the number one reason that this can't go any further tonight and why I need you to lower your voice. Now, please, hear me out." Rachel looks to the side, a little guilty, and takes a seat on the coffee table so she can face Quinn. "Can you imagine one of the kids walking in and finding their mom and their 'aunt' Rachel having sex? The confusion? When I have my first time with you, officially, as a couple, I want it to be beautiful and without inhibitions, and not while my children are sleeping upstairs."

"Are we a couple, then, Quinn. Officially?"

"I think so," Quinn says, "if it's alright with you?" Rachel nods, and leans over to the couch to kiss Quinn quickly.

"There's just a lot to think about, Rach, and you know that I've been working so hard to not be my usual, impulsive, take whatever I want whenever I want it, Quinn. Like, we have to explain this to the children. That we're dating, that mommy likes girls and boys, that this doesn't mean that she doesn't love daddy anymore. We have your career to think about. You're not out in the public, and even though it's common knowledge within the industry, that doesn't mean that your PR person isn't going to have something to say about you being in a slightly higher than normal profile relationship with a woman. Have you thought about that, Rach? Are you going to do some big coming out issue with The Advocate or are you going to intentionally stay closeted and get a beard for public events, or are you just going to play coy?"

"Quinn. I'm a working actor, but I'm far from a celebrity. Nobody really cares about my personal life. If I really hit it big, you know, when I'm up for that Oscar, of course I will acknowledge who you are in my life. Until then, no one is really asking. I was thinking I would play it Jodie Foster style."

"I don't know what that means, Rachel." Quinn says, a smirk in her eyes.

"She was with her girlfriend for years, they had two children together, they lived together, and she never made an official coming out statement. The public put two and two together, of course. I mean, what heterosexual woman lives with her best friend and has two children by artificial insemination and refuses to speak about it…but, still, she was allowed to live her life and have a successful career. And that was twenty years ago."

"So, you're just not going to worry about it?"

"Exactly. My personal life is my personal life. I will never claim to be straight, and if the day comes that I feel like I'm lying, then I will change things. But, until then, no one is asking, so I'll take you to events and keep the children out of it and keep my personal life personal."

"You're really awesome, Rachel." Quinn says.

"I know." They kiss again, softly. "Well, I should go home. I'll see you this weekend?"

"Do you want to come by for dinner Thursday? Maybe help us pack?"

"I'd love to see you pack, Quinn Fabray," Rachel says with a smirk.

"Why do I think that I'm missing something?"

"You need to catch up on your lesbian street cred. Look it up after I go," Rachel says as she stands up. "Or call Santana. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to give you a detailed description. I'll see you Thursday." She kisses Quinn on the lips and walks toward the front of the house.

"Thursday, Rach. I love you, Rachel."

"I love you too, Quinn,' Rachel says, shutting the door behind her.

"Take a seat, Berry," Santana says, leaning into her desk to pull out a file.

"Santana, I have to insist that while we're together in a professional capacity that you call me either Ms. Berry or Rachel. No Berry, manhands or hobbit."

"Fine. I'll call you Ms. Berry, and you can only call me Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, Counselor Pierce-Lopez, Attorney-at-Law Pierce-Lopez, or just Santana 'comma' esquire."

"I'm not calling you any of those things, Santana," Rachel says, crossing her arms as she sits in her chair.

"Then I'll continue calling you 'hobbit'." Santana says simply.

"Fine. I pick Mrs. Pierce-Lopez."

"Thank you, Ms. Berry. Now, I asked to meet with you for two reasons today. The first is that I want to discuss the non-disclosure agreement for your guest spot on 'Doctors in the Hood'. And to question why you're guest starring on a TV show called 'Doctors in the Hood'. You do know you're better than that, right?" Santana asks, absentmindedly glancing over the paperwork.

"Was that a compliment, San-Mrs. Pierce-Lopez?"

"I don't do compliments, Ms. Berry. I simply question when my clients are making decisions that don't seem to suit their best interests."

"Well, that's what I have an agent and a manager and a PR person, and god knows who else my accountant is paying, for. You, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, are my lawyer, so if the contract looks good, that's all I need to know. What's the second reason we're meeting today?" Santana comes around the desk so that she's leaning against the front of it, like a police interrogator. Rachel shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"The second reason is your intentions with my good friend, my best friend, Quinn Fabray."

"What, are you her father now?"

"No, I just look out for my own, and Quinn has been through enough this year, fuck this lifetime, without getting her heart broken again."

"Look, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez," Rachel says, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "You know that I don't plan on doing anything to hurt Quinn. I've spent the better part of this year fighting for Quinn. Why would I do anything to mess it up now? After all these years, I'd hope that you'd know me better than that." Rachel looks a little hurt. "You know, it would be nice if you sometimes played in my court too, Santana."

"Mrs. Pierce-Lopez." Santana corrects. Rachel crosses her arms over her chest, annoyed again. "That's all I wanted to hear," Santana says, shrugging. "Besides," she says, moving back to sit behind her desk, "you think I haven't already berated Quinn about this enough? She's my best friend—if anything, I'm meaner to her than I am to everyone else. Like I said, I look out for my clients." Rachel looks touched and Santana looks uncomfortable. "Now, what do you say we get down to business?"

"That was very nice, Santana."

"Drop it. Please. And call me Mrs. Pierce-Lopez."

"Aw. You like hearing your surname, don't you."

"Berry, I swear to god if you don't stop with this Mr. Rogers bullshit-"

"You'll what?" Rachel asks, interrupting her. "Cut me with the razors in your weave?"

"Just cut it out." Santana says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry Mrs. Pierce-Lopez. Let's get back to business. Now, what is this NDA I have to sign?"

"Knock-knock," Brittany says, walking into the office with a toddling Nico. "Your assistants are here to tell you it's time for lunch!" Brittany says. Santana can't stop the smile spreading up her cheeks.

"Britt, you know, just because I work from home now doesn't mean you can just walk in. I'm with a client."

"I knew it was just Rachel," Brittany says. "No offense, Rach. Plus, I really like seeing you in your lawyer costume." Brittany winks.

"Oh, where did you get these overalls, little man?" Rachel asks Nico as she picks him up and plops him in her lap. "Are they from your mami circa 2011?"

"His mami picked them out for him circa 2024," Brittany coos to Nico.

"Enough," Santana says simply.

"Oh, San, you like overalls. It's okay," Brittany says. "We all accepted that about you ages ago. Can you stay for lunch, Rach?"

"I wish I could, ladies, but I have to be in hair and makeup in an hour." Rachel says. Brittany and Santana nod.

"Before you leave, Rach, do you know if you and Q can babysit on Saturday? We're trying to cash in on some of those babysitting points…" Brittany winks over to Santana. Rachel blushes, suddenly at a loss for words. 'You and Q', as though they are a unit, collectively cashing in babysitting points. She knows Brittany wasn't thinking it when she said it, but she can't help but feel a little more like she's found a place where she belongs.

"Yo, earth to Berry!" Santana says from behind her desk, snapping her fingers. "Can you babysit or what?"

"Sorry," Rachel says, "I was distracted. I believe Justin has the girls this weekend so Quinn and I will be going out. Next week though?" Rachel asks. "And, I believe you're supposed to be calling me Ms. Berry."

"This meeting has been over ever since you started talking smack about my baby's overalls."

"Fine, Santana. I'll see you ladies soon," Rachel says, picking up her purse and walking toward the door of the office. "Just so you know, Santana," Rachel says, peeking one last look over her shoulder before leaving, "your insistence on using the word 'yo' does nothing but age you. Almost as much as your love for the mid-nineties fashion-fail overalls." Santana rolls her eyes as Rachel leaves.

"She really has become much bitchier in her old age," Santana says to Brittany, absentmindedly bouncing Nico up and down on her lap.

"She just spends more time with you and Quinn now," Brittany says. "Let's go eat lunch."

Quinn stares down at the screen of her phone again. She has nearly finished packing her entire bedroom, mainly because she's been avoiding making this call.

"Quinn!"

"Hi, Justin." Quinn said, dryly.

"I'm really glad to hear from you."

"Well, we need to deal with some house stuff."

"What's going on?"
"I'm packing, and there's still a ton of your stuff here."

"You can have it."

"Come on, Justin."

"I'm serious, you can have it."

"I don't want it, J. We actually need to deal with this. Plus, we need to work out the summer schedule for the girls." There's silence on the other end of the line. "Justin?"

"Okay, I'm sorry, you're right. How about we get coffee Wednesday or Thursday?"

"Are you in Los Angeles?"

"I got here yesterday, a little earlier than expected, I know. I was going to surprise the girls, but I didn't want to catch you off guard."

"Thanks, J. That's actually really considerate of you."

"I'm not an ass all of the time." Quinn can't help but laugh at this.

"Okay, how about we get coffee at that little place in Pasadena that sells sandwiches. We'll be less likely to get noticed out there. Thursday?"

"Sounds good. How's eleven for you?"

"Great. I'll see you then."

Santana is ferociously chopping carrots on the kitchen island and Brittany is putting the finishing touches on her dip as they wait for Frank to arrive.

"Honey," Brittany says, walking carefully around the twins playing with Play-Doh on the floor. "Are you going to at least try to be nice tonight?"

"What do you mean, Britt?" Santana says, her professional smile plastered on her face. "Of course I'm going to be nice."

"Santana."

"What? I'm trying!" She says, continuing to chop. Brittany picks up Nico and tries to get the Play-doh out of his hair. "I just…you know, I know my mother deserves to start dating again. It's been…god, it's been seven years, I just…it's still hard. I thought I was fine with this," she says, letting out a heavy sigh and resting her knife on the cutting board. "I wouldn't have invited him if I thought…I don't know…" she says, trailing off.

"Of course it's hard, Santana." Brittany says, resting her hand on her wife's cheek. "No one is expecting you to suddenly be overjoyed about this, but it's kind of nice that your mom is getting out there again. Still living, you know?"

"I know," Santana says. "I invited him. I know this, in my logical brain…"

"Good," Brittany says. She kisses Santana gently on the lips. "That's all you can do. So just try and be nice tonight, okay?" Santana nods.

"I love you, Brittany." She says, softly.

"I love you too, honey."

"So, Frank," Santana says, narrowing her eyes. "Tell me what it is you do for a living?" Frank clears his throat nervously. He adjusts his tie, obviously trying to regain his sense of control over the situation. He's in his sixties; she's in her thirties. He can't let her intimidate her.

"I'm an executive at DreamWorks," he says. Santana looks impressed and he's pleased with himself. He starts to play a game of peek-a-boo with Nico. "They're beautiful," he says to no one in particular. "Which one of you is the mother?" Santana and Brittany both look up, clearly taken aback.

"Frank!" Maria says, obviously shocked. Santana is fuming. Not only did her mother start dating again, but she brings home a man who doesn't understand that she is in a lesbian relationship and is going to start devaluing her family in her dining room. She's about to jump up, but Frank interrupts her.

"No, no! I didn't mean it like that! Oh God, I just meant, I was curious I guess, about which one of you gave birth to her. I mean, they look so much like both of you! Of course you're both the mothers." He adds. His face is red, and he's clearly just rambling at this point. "I just…I just was surprised that they really do resemble both of you."

"It's okay," Brittany says, squeezing Santana's hand reassuringly.

"I shouldn't have asked," Frank says. "It's none of my business."

"They do look like both of us," Brittany says, trying to defuse the situation. "I mean, if I didn't know any better, I would have thought that Santana knocked me up. In fact, if I were 15, that's definitely what I would have thought. I had some misconceptions…"Brittany says, looking to Santana to see if humor has taken the edge off. It hasn't. "Damn the State of Ohio and their poor sex ed classes." Brittany grins and takes a bite of her dinner. Santana can't help but giggle at Brittany, and then roll her eyes at Frank who seems to be trying to determine whether she is serious or not. Santana still grasps Brittany's hand impossibly tight; it is clear the wheels in her head are turning impossibly fast now.

"I have two sons," Frank says after a painfully long silence. "Colin is 35 and Paul is 33. Paul is gay."

"Oh, that's fascinating," Santana says, dryly.

"No, I just mean," Frank rubs his forehead, "I didn't mean to be insensitive to your family, Santana. I'm nervous," he says, grasping Maria's hand tightly. "I'm really enjoying spending time with your mother, and she speaks of you and your family and your father so highly, and sometimes I put my foot in my mouth. I was merely trying to compliment how beautiful you and your wife are, and the your children are just as beautiful."

"Why don't we start over," Brittany says.

"I'd really like that," Frank says.

"So," Quinn says, the next day at lunch with Justin, "Lily comes barging into the room and stops right at Rachel and Hannah and says, 'look, I get that you two get some kind of tickle out of listening to yourselves squeal like sad sad pigs awaiting slaughter on a cold New England morning, but you're going to have to find someplace else to torture innocent souls. Maybe try South Africa, where perhaps they will be excited by the human Vuvuzelas and prop you up as mascots for their National soccer team. Just get it out of my house. I gots math homework to do, and its subtraction, and I can't deal with listening to either of your faces anymore.' And then she just walked out of the room. Rachel literally just whispered, 'Santana?' under her breath." Justin can't stop laughing.

"That story is a lie, Quinn!"

"I swear to god, J."

"How the hell would she even know what a Vuvuzela is? Or where South Africa is?"

"I'm pretty sure that she spends half of her guitar lessons complaining about things to Santana and then having Santana write out witty yet caustic lines for her to memorize. She's is barely passing any spelling tests and it was like pulling teeth to get her to work on that Geography project, so, as intelligent as our daughter is, I really don't think she's coming up with these things on her own. And don't worry, she was punished."

"Oh, that is priceless. I wish I'd seen it," he says. Their laughter subsides and a hint of awkwardness fills the table. "So, speaking of Rachel giving Hannah voice lessons, how is she?"

"She's doing well," Quinn says quietly.

"The girls talk about her quite a bit." Quinn just nods. "Look, Quinn, I know that I'm the bad guy, and I have no right to ask you this, but we're going to have to learn how to get along for the rest of our lives, because we have three children together, and I think being honest with one another is a step in the right direction." He looks up at Quinn, his eyes earnest, waiting for her to look up from her coffee.

"What did you want to ask me, Justin?" She tries to play nonchalant, keeping a smile on her face.

"Are you seeing Rachel?" Quinn knew this was coming, yet she somehow doesn't have a prepared answer for this. She wants to deny, but she also wants to keep seeing Rachel, so really she'll just be prolonging an uncomfortable confession. That's the old Quinn. She's trying to be the new Quinn. She takes a breath.

"Yes." Justin looks down now, his eyes a little glassy.

"I have one more question," he says, still not able to make eye contact with Quinn. She nods. "Are you gay? Was I just some sort of beard for you for twelve years?"

"God, Justin, of course not. I think…I think that I'm bisexual. I loved you, and I loved our life together, it just stopped working. For both of us." He nods in agreement. "This, me dating Rachel, me being attracted to women, it has nothing to do with you. What we had was special, before everything went to shit." He nods again.

"I'm happy for you," he says softly.

"Are you?"

"No. I'm sad and hurt and I can't believe, sometimes, that we are really over. But, somewhere, underneath the jealousy and sadness, I know that all I've ever wanted is for you to be happy. I was an asshole. If Rachel is being good to you, then I will do what I need to do so that I'm in a place where I can feel genuine happiness for you two."

"That's all I can ask, J."

"Well," he says, obviously still fighting back tears. "This was fun until three minutes ago. I'm gonna head out, I'll see you Friday afternoon when I pick up the girls?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Probably ordering pizza and watching Sportscenter in my hotel."

"Why don't you come to the house and we can have dinner together with the girls? I think they would like that, especially since we're packing up the house they've known all their lives. At least they'll have both their parents there."

"Really?" Justin asks.

"Really. It will be fun." Quinn says, smiling apprehensively at Justin.

Santana is working in the kitchen while Brittany cooks and listens to Rachel complain. She knows she could go up to her office, but isn't part of the benefit of working from home now that she can spend more time with her family? So she listens to Rachel ramble in exchange for watching her children be fucking adorable in the kitchen.

"I mean, it was supposed to be a 'business' lunch," Rachel says, using air quotes as she stomps around the kitchen. "Is it lunchtime anymore? No. Yet, they're still together."

"They probably just have a lot to talk about, Rachel. Between the kids and dealing with selling the house."

"Still…we had plans tonight, and she broke them to spend time with her ex-husband! I mean…how would she feel if I decided to spend the evening with Sarah? Maybe I'll do that, just give Sarah a call, see if she feels like spending the evening together."

"Rachel," Brittany says sternly, putting down her knife, "stop it. You're being crazy. Like annoying, fifteen-year-old Rachel Berry insane. You can't just use the girl whose heart you broke to get back at Quinn for talking to her ex-husband about selling their house of ten years.

"They haven't lived there for ten years," Rachel says, pouting.

"Seriously, Rachel, I can't deal with high school version of you right now," Brittany says suddenly, her voice harsher than Rachel has ever heard it. Santana's head pops up, and she quickly gives Rachel a look that conveys that Santana has both heard this voice before, and that Rachel is about to get it. "Santana has a ton of work, I have a ton of work, we're dealing with planning a birthday party and getting pregnant again, my mother-in-law, who moved here to help out, is spending most of her time with her new boyfriend, and I have two toddlers. So if it's going to be high school you all night, you really should leave." Rachel looks flabbergasted and Santana looks at Rachel with an

'I told you so' face.

"I thought you secretly liked me in high school." Rachel says.

"No, I couldn't stand you. You were kind of really mean to me." Brittany says.

"No I wasn't." Rachel scoffs, indignant.

"You treated me like I was five." Brittany waits for the obvious retort in which Rachel claims that she acted like she was five. It never comes. "The point is, we've both matured, and you need to remember that you're an adult now. You're in a complicated relationship, Rachel. There's no way around that. Quinn has an ex-husband and three children with him. There is no way around that, and no matter how much it pisses you off, Justin will be in your life for as long as your in Quinn's. So you need to either figure out a way to deal with that, or you can leave." The room is suddenly filled with an awkward silence. Even the babies seem to have stilled, waiting for their Aunt Rachel's retort.

"When did you become the wisest one of all of us?" Rachel finally says.

"She always was," Santana says from the table. "The rest of you were all too stupid to realize it though."

"Wait." Rachel says, holding her hand up in the air. "You're trying to get pregnant again!"

"Calm your baby-craving loins, Berry," Santana says. "We're in the very earliest stages of working on it. As in, no sperm has passed through these legs just yet."

"Plenty of sperm has passed through those legs, Santana," Rachel says. Brittany scrunches up her nose. "And you're going to carry your next child?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with that? I'm so sick of people assuming that because I'm kind of a bitch that I would never want to, you know, bring life into this world. I love Britt, and I love our family, and I want to make it larger. I don't know where everyone gets this idea that I'm this bitchy butch lesbian that could never have a baby."

"But…you're kind of vain, Santana. I'm surprised you'd allow pregnancy to happen to your body."

"Yeah, I'm kind of vain, so I want to pass my awesome genes onto my awesomely hot children. Besides, Rach, people grow up, you know? At sixteen, I never would have imagined that I'd want to bear children, but I also never thought I'd want to be in an openly lesbian marriage, or having dinner with the obnoxious leader of my high school glee club. All but one of those things changed. Guess which one."

"I know, Santana." Rachel says, suddenly pensive as she thinks about her own life. "But…you are kind of the butch one…"

"Are you kidding me with this, Berry? There is no butch one in our relationship. We're both some fierce femme ladies, and, trust me, life got so much easier for me once I stopped trying to assign asinine gender roles to our relationship."

"I'm sorry, Santana." Rachel says, smirking. "It was insensitive for me to assume that just because you sometimes wear camouflage and overalls that you thought of yourself as the more masculine one in the relationship."

"I like to wear suits much more than San does," Brittany points out. "I just never have a reason to. Also, she's really bad at fixing things, and it turns out I'm kind of handy."

"Well, apparently tonight is the night that you two remind me that I'm sometimes self-centered, immature, and a little behind on my gender politics. So, Brittany, now that I'm done being fifteen, what can I help you with?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Brittany says, chancing a quick smirk at Santana before directing Rachel. "The salad, please and thank you," Brittany says, handing Rachel a bowl. "And we love you, Rach. We wouldn't give you a hard time if we didn't. Even Santana."

"I know, Brittany. Thank you."

"Just wanted to set you straight, girl," Brittany says, giggling herself as she continues cooking their dinner.

"Like any of us do anything straight," Santana says, mostly to herself. "I'm just glad you got the human Vuvuzela to shut up."

"I knew you got Lily to say that!" Rachel exclaims.

"What did you think, Lily came up with that on her own? She's seven, Rachel."

"It was a pretty good, Santana, I'm surprised you gave it up."

"I'm a generous woman. Now, please go back to helping my wife cook me dinner. I'm trying to work."

"See," Rachel says quietly to Brittany before returning to the salad. "I know I'm not crazy for thinking of her as the butch one." Brittany gives her that look again and Rachel stops talking and works on the salad.

"Hey," Quinn says, crawling into bed with the phone on her ear.

"Hey, yourself," Rachel says. She put the TV on mute.

"Sorry about today. You're not mad, are you?"

"I was. I'm not anymore."

"I just thought it would be nice for the girls to see their parents getting along for once."

"I understand, Quinn. You don't have to explain. Did you guys have a nice time?"

"Yeah, we did. I told Justin about us."

"Really?" Rachel's eyes widened. "About the before us or just about the now us?"

"Just the now us. I think he assumes about the before us, but I think we're trying to not dwell on how messed up our marriage was and focus on our future."

"That's good."

"So, what are you wearing?"

"I'm not playing this game with you, Quinn." Rachel says, smiling into the phone.

"Why not?"

"Because it's late, and I'd rather talk to you, and save this for our date on Saturday night."

"Lame."

"I know. So, are you still packing?"

"No, but I packed all day, I'm actually really proud of myself."

"I bet you look really hot when you're packing," Rachel says, giggling.

"Okay, I still don't get this joke, Rachel."

"It's okay. I'm going to go to bed."

"You're still not going to tell me?"

"No, I'm going to let you find this one out on your own."

"Mean."

"I know. Goodnight, Quinn."

"Night, Rach. I love you."

"I love you too." Quinn hangs up the phone. Her computer is downstairs, and she's not curious enough to go find it. She scrolls through her contacts.

"I'm gonna kill this bitch," Santana says, seeing Quinn's name pop up on her phone. Brittany rolls over so she's on her stomach, her head facing Santana.

"Who is it?"

"Quinn."

"Just don't answer," Brittany says, yawning. "Or maybe you should answer. It could be an emergency." Santana groans and shifts herself up in their bed to get the phone. She gently runs her free hand down Brittany's exposed spine.

"What the fuck do you want, Q?"

"Oh, hello, Santana! Did I interrupt your frequent and vigorous love making with your wife again?"

"Gross, Q. And no, thankfully, you called post sexy times, and in my grumpy I want to go the fuck to sleep because I just had sex with my wife times."

"That's just lovely, Santana."

"Seriously, Q, what's up? I don't have all night."

"I need to ask you a question."

"Okay."

"What is packing?" Quinn holds her breath, nervous for Santana's reply.

"Seriously, Q? What the fuck kind of question is that? Are you having some sort of weird, existential, academic, I'm a depressed writer moment and I have to move my life, because I really can't deal with it."

"No! Rachel keeps making a joke every time I talk about packing about seeing me pack and how hot packing is." Santana sits upright in bed, her eyes widening. "Santana?" Quinn asks, nervous again because of the silence.

"Wanky, Q. Seriously, wanky. Who knew that Berry's a kinky one," she says. Brittany rolls her eyes and puts her pillow over her head, knowing from that response that it's going to be a long conversation. "Don't worry, Q. Aunty Tana will fill you in on everything you need to know. God, I love having a baby dyke under my wing."

"Oh god, Santana, just get on with it." Quinn says.

"Well, you see, when a lady and another lady love each other very much, and have been together for a long time…" Brittany pulls the pillow tighter around her ears. If 'Aunty Tana' is out, there was no telling when this conversation would end.