"Excuse me, you did what?" Kurt shrieks, grabbing at Santana's hand.
"We got married, Kurt." She rolls her eyes a little, shoving her other hand into the pocket of her scrubs.
"Yes, I understand what you're saying, but really, you did what? Are you pregnant? Are you dying?"
"Oh my God." Santana yanks her hand away from him, a look of horror on her face. "What is wrong with you, honestly?"
"Excuse me for being slightly shocked that you, Dr. Santana Lopez, who, by the way, I had to browbeat into going on a date with someone just, what, fifteen months ago, would go on vacation and come back married."
"Oh, please. You're acting like a pulled a Britney Spears and married a stranger. I live with her, we've discussed marriage before, and so, we just did it." She yanks her hand away from him and straightens her rings. "Are we done with this?"
"I'm just personally offended that you—"
"My mother, her parents, and Liam. That's it." She shakes her head. "That's what we wanted."
"So am I supposed to start calling you Dr. Pierce now?"
"No. I'm keeping my name, she's keeping her name. I know this may shock you, Hummel, but as much as you're trying to make this about you, it's kind of not."
"Well what did Mercedes say?"
"Like a normal human being, she was happy for me."
"Hey! I'm happy for you! I can be happy, but also shocked. I just never really took you for the marrying kind."
"Yeah, well, neither did I, but then I fell in love."
So maybe Santana gets a little dreamy while talking to Kurt. If she's being honest, the past five days of her life have felt like a dream anyway. She'd married Brittany on the beach. She'd danced with her in the sand, rose petals beneath their feet. She'd kissed her lips under a thousand stars. She'd lifted a nearly sleeping Liam into her arms, cake all over his face, and tucked him into his bed, heart nearly stopping as he'd murmured night, Mommy Noodle. She'd shared a lounge chair and sipped champagne with her new wife, until Brittany had scooped her up in her arms, and carried her to bed to make love to her.
Even after a harrowing flight back to New York, where bad weather meant they were stuck in their seats, and Liam cried for half of the flight, she still feels euphoric. Brittany, being Brittany, and in a perpetual state of preparedness, had printed out the forms they need to file with HR, and once Liam had gone down for the night, they'd sat at the kitchen table, filling them out. They'd kissed goodbye outside of the daycare center, and Santana has been on cloud nine ever since.
She scrubs in for her first surgery at twelve-thirty. It's just a basic bowel resection—albeit, on a ten-day old—and Hayward is with her. Her rings are safety pinned to her bra, a tip she got from Sandy, her favorite scrub nurse, and she doesn't even notice that she's humming Etta James while she opens the newborn's abdomen, until she catches Hayward smiling at her across the surgical table.
Though she's a little embarrassed being caught in the act, Santana doesn't say a word. She just continues on with her resection, allowing Hayward to close up when she's finished. Santana is just leaving the OR, slipping her rings back onto her finger when she runs into Holly Holliday in the hallway. It's been awhile since she's seen her, but even with every other change in her life, Santana hasn't put their last conversation entirely out of her head.
"Hey stranger." Holly cocks her head to the side. "Long time no see. I was just in a meeting with Corcoran and Pierce, and I hear congratulations are in order."
"Oh…thanks Holly." Santana twists her rings and shrugs. Her breasts ache more than they normally do, and she already feels exhausted, but she smiles at Holly. "It was a spur of the moment decision."
"A good one, I hope."
"No, yeah, the best one, actually. Was there something you needed?"
"Not really. Corcoran told me you were operating on a newborn, so I went and watched from the gallery."
"You watched a bowel resection?"
"On a ten day old by one of the most talented young surgeons in this hospital, yes. I actually was going to speak to you today anyway. I'm doing a repair of a neural tube defect on Friday, and I thought you might be interested in scrubbing in."
"In utero?"
"In utero."
"Are you trying to entice me into this dual board certification again?"
"I'm not trying to entice you into anything." Holly shrugs. "I just personally think it's a cool procedure, especially if you've never done one."
"I haven't."
"I know, I asked Corcoran."
"Look, Holly, I appreciate the offer, but I just don't think this is the right time in my life to start training in another specialty."
"You know there's no pressure with me, Lopez. I just think you're a gifted surgeon, and scrubbing in with me on this one isn't an expectation of anything but good company."
"Really?"
"Duh, have I ever lied to you?"
"Well…no." Santana bites her lower lip, considering it. "Okay, I mean, it's a surgery in utero, so I'd be kind of dumb to say no to that."
"I wasn't going to say it, but…" Holly shakes her head. "Do you have ten-am free on Wednesday to discuss it?"
"I'll be there."
Santana is harried for the rest of the day. She ends up doing three appendectomies in two hours, and her rounds get so backlogged that she doesn't even change out of her scrubs before she does them, leaving her rings pinned to her bra, and her hair in a wild bun. Her feet ache, her breasts are tender, and she has the start of a tension headache, when she finally goes back to her office at nearly eight o'clock. She'd texted Brittany earlier, asking her not to wait, but still, she hadn't planned staying this late, and she definitely hadn't planned to be cutting it so close to making it home for Liam's bedtime.
When she gets into the house, the lights downstairs are off. She drops her bag in the foyer and hangs her coat up, before padding quietly up the stairs. Light streams out from Liam's bedroom, and Santana sighs with relief, glad that she'll have a few minutes with him. Looking in through the open door, she sees Brittany on the bed, Liam's head in her lap, flipping through his book as she runs her fingers through her hair.
"Alright, baby, last book."
"But what about Docc—Mommy Noodle?"
"She's working a little late tonight." Santana watches as Brittany bites back a smile at his new name for her, and she feels the grin spread across her own face.
"Surprise." Santana whispers, slipping into the bedroom. "Just in time for bed."
"You comed home! Mama save you dinner! We had sketties and meepballs!"
"Sorry." She mouths to Brittany, seeing the way he wiggles and shouts, and sits down on the bed. "Well that sounds pretty good, I can't wait to eat them."
"First, you lay." He pats the bed beside him, and laughing a little, Santana lays on her side, propping her head up on her hand and just watching him wriggle down beneath his covers.
"How was your day today, sir?"
"I did so much paint! I maked you seven pitchers, and I maked Mama seven pitchers."
"Seven, huh? Wow, where am I going to hang up my seven pictures?"
"In you office! I get you the tape!" He jumps up, by Santana catches him with her arm, helping him lay back down.
"How about tomorrow morning, when your Mama has her early patient, you hang out in my office at the hospital, and you help me hang them there?"
"I stay there all day?"
"Well…" Santana laughs a little. "I have some surgeries tomorrow, and I don't think you want to stay in my office all alone, do you?"
"I bring Lord Tub-a-Ton. He keep me company."
"Cats are frowned upon at the hospital, Sir." She tucks the covers up to his chin, and kisses his forehead. "But what if I promised you that I'd come home with you tomorrow night? No late night of work."
"And we watch Dory?"
"That's…that's a question for your Mama." When Santana looks at Brittany, she shakes her head, telling her without words that it's absolutely her right to make that decision. "But I think it'll be okay with both of us."
"Okey." He yawns big and snuggles deeper beneath his blanket. "Nigh'-night Mama. Nigh'-night Mommy Noodle."
The tears well up in Santana's eyes as she kisses him again. Brittany squeezes her forearm, and she turns off the light, kissing Liam on both cheeks, before she stands from the bed, offering Santana a hand up. She takes it, and she squeezes it tightly, running her thumb over the inside of Santana's engagement rings.
While Santana eats the dinner Brittany saved for her, they're quiet. It's still sinking in, upon their return home, that they're married. Part of Santana thought that maybe she'd panic when she got back into her element, but she hasn't. It seems to have happened so seamlessly. For all intents and purposes, nothing has really changed, but for Santana, it all feels bigger. It feels bigger when Brittany kisses her good morning, and murmurs hi, wife. It feels bigger when Liam calls her Mommy Noodle, and wraps his little arms around her. It feels bigger, because wife and mother mean so much more than girlfriend and Doccer Santana. It feels bigger, because it is, but still, Santana doesn't fear it.
"Did you end up talking to Holly today?" Brittany asks, as Santana finally frees her breasts from her bra, pressing her palms into the hardened flesh.
"I did, yeah."
"How was it?"
"It was fine, I think. I mean…I'm going to do a neural tube repair with her, so that's pretty cool." Santana winces, raising her arms up to pull her t-shirt on.
"Do you want a massage?" Brittany asks her, leaning back against the pillows on their bed.
"I…um…yeah, maybe. I'm kind of sore today, I guess."
"Come sit." She pats the bed beside her, and Santana nods, conceding. "I'll do it over your shirt?"
"Yeah…please." She looks down, face heating up. Her breasts being an issue are still something that she doesn't discuss, it's still something that haunts her every day. It's still something that mortifies her.
"So tell me about this surgery." Brittany presses her hands to Santana's chest, and Santana leans back, trying to use conversation as a distraction.
"We're going to meet about it—ugh, not so hard—I don't know. She—ow—wants me to, I mean…I knowthat she wants me to consider—shit—another board certification."
"And it's not entirely far fetched, right? This is something you've considered?"
"Fuck, seriously it's too hard." Santana puts her hands over Brittany's and pushes them away, tears springing to her eyes. "I'm sorry."
"If I'm hurting you, you have no reason to be sorry."
"They just feel like rocks right now."
"I know." Brittany nods, and Santana narrows her eyes.
"What?"
"It's not my place to say. You're not my patient."
"No, but I'm your wife." Santana pushes herself up off the bed, giving herself some space, and wraps her arms around her midsection. "So don't you think if you have a opinion, you should give me it?"
"I don't want my opinion to turn into an argument."
"Is that what you think? That I'm just so volatile that I'll jump down your throat because you have something to say about this?"
"No, actually." Brittany stands up, across the bed from Santana, and she runs her hand through her hair. "I think that this is something you struggle with, and something that upsets you, and I'm not going to say something that will upset you further."
"So you're just going to say nothing?" She snaps, turning her back. "I need to take my pills."
"Santana."
"Don't Santana me. You're being Dr. Pierce in your head, but you won't say it out loud. For the record, that doesn't make me feel any better."
Santana huffs her way into the bathroom, and she locks the door behind her. Grabbing the cup beside the sink, she lets the water run until it's cold enough, and she watches it fill the cup. She sets it back down on the counter, and she clenches her fists, fighting the urge to growl as she opens her bottles, pouring her Prozac, her Valium, her Ambien onto the marble. She doesn't want to fight with Brittany. Not in bed on the first day after they've gone back to work, not ever, but the way she feels right now, after one tiny, stupid thing set her off, it's impossible not to.
She swallows the pills, and she lifts up her shirt to look in the mirror. Her breasts still look like a war zone, that's not something that will ever change, but today, they're more tender than usual, today, they're hardened. Today, she'd cut them off entirely if she could. She hates them, and she's so damn torn between listening to what her plastic surgeon wife doesn't want to say, and shutting it all out completely.
It doesn't take long before the Ambien begins to take effect. She's usually in bed by then, but she's still standing at the sink, wooziness setting in. She grips the grey stone, and she blinks her eyes. She has to get into bed, she has to go face her wife before she passes out on the bathroom floor and makes even more of a fool of herself. Steeling her nerves and wiping her eyes, she goes back into the bedroom. Brittany brought the laundry up, and she's sitting on the edge of the bed, carefully folding each piece. She looks up at Santana, and Santana just shakes her head a little, crawling into bed and covering herself with the blanket.
"I love you, you know." Brittany leans over her, just as Santana's eyes close, and she presses a kiss to her temple. "And I'd never do or say anything that will make you think I respect your choices any less."
When Santana wakes up in the morning, Brittany isn't in bed. She gets into the shower, and she washes herself slowly, willfully looking away from her breasts as she gently soap them up. She gets out, and she chooses to wear her hair natural, though she doesn't often, to work. She clips up her dark locks, and she puts her makeup on, before slipping into her clean scrubs. She has no meetings with patients today, she has no reason to deal with pantyhose or heels. She has surgeries, so she'll be a surgeon. She'll wear her scrubs, she'll slip into her coat, Dr. Santana Lopez, Pediatrics stitched on the pocket, that first reminded in her life that she was actually worth something.
She doesn't really want to go downstairs. She's sure Brittany is sitting at the breakfast table with her coffee, talking to Liam. She's sure that they're laughing. But she doesn't want to be the jerk she was last night. She doesn't want to start off her marriage this way. She doesn't want to show her son that she's a coward. She doesn't want him to feel slighted by her, even more than she doesn't want Brittany to. She wants to be bigger than her fear. She wants to be bigger than the things that have kept her down her whole life. She wants to be better, because they deserve that, and she deserves it too.
Liam is eating his pancakes when Santana goes into the kitchen. Brittany is going through the mail, and Santana's coffee cup is beside the pot, where it always is. She takes a breath, and she pours the coffee, watching the steam rise up from the cup, and curl over the brown liquid.
"Good morning." Brittany murmurs, stacking another piece of mail in the opened pile.
"Mommy Noodle!" Liam notices her presence and cries out. "You is sleepin' too late!"
"I'm sorry about that." She smiles weakly, and brings her cup to the table. "I guess I'm a lazy bones today, Sir."
"You a very lazy bones! We needs to go put up my pitchers!"
"That's right, I forgot. We'll go very soon, once you finish your breakfast."
"I'll take a cab in early if you're not ready, Santana." Brittany tells her. "There's no reason you should have to go in an hour and a half early just because I do."
"It's fine. I'm ready, and Liam and I have pictures to hang."
Santana eats her dry toast and sips her coffee without saying much more. She's not sure how to bring herself to say what she wants to say, so she just doesn't. She packs up her briefcase, and she gets in the passenger seat of the car, fiddling with the radio, while Brittany straps Liam in behind her.
At the hospital, Brittany gets in the elevator with them. As they go up, she fixes the button on Liam's sweater, she hugs him close, and she kisses him goodbye. When she gets to her floor, she leans in toward Santana, she looks in her eyes, and she presses a soft kiss to her lips.
"I love you, I'll see you later."
"I love you too." Santana mumbles, offering Brittany a sort-of half smile.
"Bye Mama! Bye!"
Santana grasps Liam's hand as they continue up in the elevator. We hops between his two feet, and he wiggles in his little backpack. She loves watching him. She's loved it since before she and Brittany even got together. He absolutely fascinates her, and when he looks up at her, giving her a wide grin, she can't help but give him one in return.
"We gotsta hang all my pitchers now!" He twirls in circles when she unlocks her office door. "We put the bigone on you door!"
"Is that where you want it, Sir?"
"I do! I do!" Liam wriggles off his backpack and pulls it out. There are three circles scribbled in different colors. "Me and you and Mama! Me and you and Mama!"
"That sounds like the perfect one for my door." She swallows hard. "I've got the tape right here."
"And I get this from Mama! She say you have it for you desk, okey?" He raises his eyebrows, struggling to grasp a frame with his right hand. "See? See? It's from the weddin'! My feets is so sandy!"
"They are, aren't they?" Santana flicks her eyes up, tears forming behind them. "That was a great day, huh?"
"My best, best day, Mommy Noodle!"
"My best, best day too, buddy."
It takes them a long time to hang Liam's artwork. He's very particular about where he wants them, and Santana doesn't rush him. She lets him take them down, put them back up, and do the same thing over and over again. She finds that she needs this, in a way she couldn't even fathom, and it's after nine, by the time she drops him at daycare, hugging him tightly and breathing in his baby scent. Her son. Her son. She has a son now, and though she and Brittany had talked briefly in Mexico about the legalities surrounding that, she hasn't even quite wrapped her brain around any of it.
Santana's morning is packed. She does her rounds, spending a longer than normal amount of time with the newborn she'd done the surgery on yesterday, talking to her parents, assuring them that she's going to be just fine. She assists a laparoscopy in a fourteen year old with Dr. Pillsbury in gyno, cringing at the amount of scar tissue already on her uterus. She has her weekly meeting with Shelby. And then, when it's done, she goes to the coffee shop around the block, and she brings two coffees to Brittany's office, hoping she's there.
"Hey." She mumbles in the doorway, looking down at the cups in her hands. "I…uh…are you busy?"
"For you?" Brittany shakes her head, smiling a little. "Never. Especially when you brought coffee."
"How do you do that?"
"What?"
"Just…" Santana sighs, sitting down across from Brittany. "Just turn things off. Act like I wasn't a bitch last night."
"Your feelings were valid, Santana. They are valid."
"But it doesn't mean I had the right to snap at you."
"No, it doesn't, but I understand why you did." Brittany sips from the cup and nods her approval. "I don't want our bedroom to be a place where we discuss my medical opinions, especially when it's something that you might not want to hear. That's our sanctuary, okay?"
"Okay…but…"
"You wanted my medical opinion last night. If that's still something you want, we can discuss it here, or in the kitchen, or in the park, but not in our bedroom. I just don't feel comfortable with that."
"Okay." Santana nods. "That's fair. And…and yeah…if you have one, I want to know it."
"I haven't done a medical exam on you, Santana. Let me just preface this with that, okay?"
"Uh huh."
"I do touch your breasts kind of a lot though."
"Understatement." A cheeky smile breaks across Santana's face, and Brittany laughs.
"I want to separate this completely though, from physical attractiveness, or any of that. I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world, I think your breasts are beautiful."
"I mean…I don't…"
"But I do. I do, however, think you have a lot of scar tissue, and judging by last night, and other nights before that, it's causing you a lot of pain."
"I always feel like this when it's cold. It's so much worse than any other time of year."
"That could absolutely be from the scarring. Just like any injury, the cold makes it more uncomfortable. Can I ask you about your removal surgery?"
"Capsular contracture. That's why I had them taken out. As if the hack job that was done when I first got them wasn't bad enough…" She shakes her head. "Anyway, he told me that the tissue would soften again eventually."
"In my professional opinion, and again, without examining you…I would assume too much of the capsule was left, and that's why the scarring is so bad."
"So…"
"If It were me, Santana, I would have them looked at. You know that I would, if I could, but…I have former colleagues whom I trust, who are at Northwell or NWH who, if this were something you wanted to pursue, I could call."
"Britt…I just…I don't know if I'm ready for that."
"I know that." She stands up from her desk, and she comes around, wrapping her arms around Santana. "I'm going to be your wife again, now that I'm done being a surgeon."
"What would my wife tell me to do?"
"Whatever it is that you're most comfortable with. And as your wife, I hope you know that I'll always be entirely supportive of you."
"And…I just, I have to ask, not because we're even really having this conversation yet, or maybe any time soon, but…if we were to…if I were to…you know, carry a baby, or whatever…would it make this more painful?"
"Oh." Brittany smiles a little, and Santana sees how those bright eyes stare into her. "Because of the swelling in your breasts, yes, it probably would. But you don't need to feel any sort of pressure because of that. That's not something I expect you to do, you know that, right? No matter what kind of conversation we had last month."
"Yeah, no, I know. But it's still something I'm thinking about. It's still something I think that I'd really wantto do. I don't know. I feel like there's a lot of stuff up in the air right now, and maybe that's what making me feel kind of out of control. In case you didn't get the memo, I suck at stuff changing."
"I'd like to take you out to dinner tonight, Santana." Brittany kisses her temple. "Just the two of us, and then maybe we can talk about all of the things you're concerned about? Work through it together."
"I still don't know why you're like this."
"And it's still because I love you." She rubs her thumb over Santana's dimple. "So yes? Dinner with my wife?"
"Yeah…I think I'd really love that a lot."