Brittany wants to have a dinner party. The notion shocks Santana, since she's not exactly the dinner partysort of person, but when Brittany makes the point that their lack of a wedding means they've never actually had their friends in the same room, she sort of…gets it. And besides, given how busy her life has been, she hasn't exactly made time for her friends, so a dinner party doesn't sound like the worst idea.
So they plan it. Santana invites Kurt and Dave, Mercedes and Evans, and Brittany invites Artie and his daughter, and Adam and Elliot from Boston, though she knows they won't be able to make it. Much to her surprise, as they start talking about what to serve, Santana finds herself giddy. It's lame, probably, and the herof a year ago would have made fun of herself if she could see her now in her domestic glory, but she's happy. She's the happiest she's ever been in her life, without a doubt, and all she wants is to continue to embrace this, all she wants is to feel this way for as long as she can.
Santana works an overnight shift the night before their dinner. She hadn't planned on doing it, but Shelby had a family emergency, and Santana knows that she's the first person she comes to on the rare occasion that she needs someone to take over. Certainly, she sees it as a compliment, especially considering how much younger she is than some of the other peds surgeons, and deep in her mind, she wonders what that could mean someday when Shelby retires. It's daunting, sure, the idea that she could ever be a department head, but considering she's spent the last two weeks considering when she should tell Brittany that she scheduled an OB/GYN appointment just to see how her uterus is looking, she thinks maybe there's nothing too big for her to ever take on.
"Heyward!" Santana calls out, as she walks into the pit in response to a page. "Are you on the peds patient?"
"I am, Dr. Lopez." Hayward scrambles for her charts. "Fifteen month male, open fracture of the ulna, possible concussion."
"Abuse?"
"ACS is on it, but I don't think so, it's pretty consistent with falling out of a crib."
"Who's on from ortho?" Santana asks, taking the chart from Heyward.
"Dr. Anderson."
"Ugh." Santana can't control her displeasure at the thought of working with Kurt's ex, and Jane stifles a giggle. "Did you page him?"
"I did, he's finishing up a surgery, and then he's coming down here. I ordered the patient a sedative in the meantime."
"Okay." Santana nods. "Good, let me see him."
Santana follows Heyward back through the emergency room, and behind the curtain. A woman around her own age is curled up on the cot beside her sedated son, and over his head, she weeps. Something about it causes a pang in Santana's chest, and she twists her ponytail between her fingers as she scans the chart one last time.
Just as she opens her mouth to speak, Blaine Anderson rips open the curtain behind her, and steps in, as self-important as he usually is. Rather than have an argument with him—since they've had more than their share, both personally and professionally—she lets him talk to the patient's mother, she lets him be in charge. Though she's loath to admit it, he's an exceptional orthopedic surgeon, and while she'd groan at his arrogance the whole time, of it were her son, she'd want him to treat him.
Once they settle on sending Kris Anwar into surgery, Santana ties her rings into the drawstring of her scrubs, and she leans over the sink, scrubbing up her arms. She's just about finished when Blaine comes into the scrub room, and it takes her a minute, but she gives him a tight smile.
"Heard you got married." He talks to her over the rushing water of the sink, and she nods.
"January."
"To Pierce, right? Doesn't she have a kid?"
"We have a kid." She corrects. "And before you say anything, yeah, I'm aware that I said I never wanted to have kids back when I used to be forced into your company all the time, shit changes."
"Hey, easy, I wasn't going to say anything, Santana. I'm glad you found happiness, everyone deserves that."
"That's…oddly…nice?" Santana's tone is questioning, and Blaine huffs.
"I never wasn't nice to you."
"Uh, you think I forgot when we were interns? You had your head so far up every attending's ass, that I was sure you were gelling your hair with stomach acid—"
"That's disgusting."
"Also true, and you stole every other surgery out from under me, so yeah…whatever, I'm over it, I'm just saying, I don't fall for your act."
"It's not an act."
"Whatever, let's just do this. I'd like to be home in time to have breakfast with my kid."
The surgery doesn't go well. Much to everyone in the OR's dismay, the patient is resistant to anesthesia, and despite the best efforts of the anesthesiologist, Kris Anwar wakes up twice. It's difficult in any case, but for a patient so young, it's infinitely worse. By the time the surgery is finished, and Kris is resting comfortably in recovery with his mom, Santana is absolutely shot. She hadn't gotten the sleep she needed yesterday afternoon, and with the sun rising, she can't decide if she should have another cup of coffee, or just go home and crawl into bed.
—
Figuring she'll sleep regardless, Santana guzzles a cup of coffee from the doctor's lounge, as she goes over her charts from the night. Once she's finished, she doesn't bother to change. In her scrubs, she grabs her bag from her office, and goes downstairs, wishing, as she tries to get a cab, that she'd taken the car to work.
It's before seven when she gets home, and the house is still quiet and dark. Leaving her bag and her shoes in the entryway, she creeps upstairs. In the bedroom, Brittany is still asleep, and Santana pulls off her scrubs, leaving them on the door and unhooks her bra. She still feels that same hissing relief when she takes it off after a long shift at work, even now that the surgery is done, but she doesn't ache everywhere, she doesn't feel like she can't move her arms, and more and more often, she thinks that she'd probably be okay coming home from work and doing the same thing pregnant.
She crawls into bed, kissing the top of Brittany's head, and sleep comes before she knows it. When she wakes up, the blackout curtains are drawn, and the bed is empty beside her. Her head hurts a little, and she cracks her neck, before she reaches for her phone. It's after one, and she groans, knowing she should get up, knowing they're having company in a few hours, knowing that Brittany has probably already cleaned the house and started getting things ready. She used to love overnights, where she could sleep the day away, but now, she wants to be up with her kid. Now, she has something to care about besides herself.
"When's Mommy Noodle gettin' 'wake?" She hears Liam's voice in the hallway, and Brittany's gentle hushes.
"She's very tired, Li. But I promise, when she gets up, she'll want to play with you. How about we do a little therapy, and then we'll bring Mommy her sandwich and her coffee?"
"It's too tired." He whines a little.
"I know your arm is tired, baby, but that's why we have to do the therapy, right? So you get big, strong muscles in there." Santana imagines Brittany flexing her bicep as she says it, and when she hears Liam giggle, she smiles, knowing she was right. "Just for a little while."
As their voices disappear down the hall, Santana drags herself out of bed. Not wanting to interrupt Liam's arm exercises, she goes right into the bathroom, turns the shower on, and covers her hair. After a long soak, she feels ready to start her day, and when she goes downstairs, she smiles at Liam sitting on the floor with Brittany, trying to thread wide beads on a shoelace. Every time she watches him, her heart swells with such pride. His muscles are getting stronger, his dexterity is getting better, and he no longer gets frustrated like he did in the very beginning.
"Look at you go, Sir." Santana pours her coffee and leans over the counter, expecting his usual jubilant greeting.
"Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle! Mommy Noodle!" He flies toward her, and she scoops him up in her arms. "I misseded you so, so, so much."
"I missed you too." She kisses his dark hair. "But I'm home now."
"You fix any babies?"
"I did actually fix a baby today." Santana laughs at his fixation with babies, asking her every single time she comes home from work. "I helped fix up a little boy with a very broken arm."
"Like me?"
"A little bit, yeah. And now he's going to have a cast like you did too."
"What color? What color?"
"His is orange."
"Whoa! I can get that?"
"Let's hope you don't need a cast for a long, long time instead? Your arm is getting so strong, we don't want it to break again."
"See my muscles Mommy Noodle?" He lifts his arm and flexes as best as he can.
"Wow! It looks like you've really been doing your exercises!"
"I can do the beads! See! See!"
"I do see." She kisses his head again. "I'm so, so proud of you."
While Santana drinks her coffee, Brittany makes lunch. Liam chatters away, eating his chicken nuggets, until his eyelids start to droop, and his head almost falls forward in his plate. Santana waves Brittany off and gets up from the table, lifting Liam into her arms. Once she has him settled into into his bed, she kisses him and goes back downstairs, to where Brittany is cleaning up the dishes.
"Let me do that, Britt. You already cleaned the whole house."
"And you worked overnight. Relax, have another cup of coffee, tell me about your night. Anderson, huh?"
"He was actually fine. I mean, I obviously don't want to go have a beer with him, but I'll give him credit for being an exceptional surgeon. Wow, I don't even sound like myself."
"You sound calm." Brittany pours Santana's coffee, and kisses her temple as she gives it to her.
"I feel calm, actually. And you know I'm usually a bear after an overnight."
"I do." She laughs a little, and sits down across from Santana.
"I think I want to try to get pregnant soon, Britt." Santana looks up, meeting Brittany's eyes. "My gyno visit was good, and I just…I want to do this."
"Okay. Okay, wow. I mean, I knew we were heading in that direction—" Brittany laughs, an uncharacteristically giddy sort of laugh. "But wow, okay. How do you…?"
"In a doctor's office. I just…I don't know, I don't feel comfortable with us like, doing it here, or whatever. And IUI or IVF have significantly better success rates, so…I don't know, I guess we start looking at a donor registry."
"Wow. Sorry I keep saying that, but, seriously, Santana, I'm not kidding when I tell you I've been waiting my whole life for this."
"I…haven't." Santana tells her honestly. "It was weird talking to Blaine today, and hearing the shock in his voice when Liam came up. This is pretty much a new dream for me, all of it."
"I know." Brittany lifts her hand and kisses the palm of it. "And I consider myself really lucky to be the one you want to share it with."
"Mommy Noodle is pretty much the best job title ever, and I worked my ass off for my MD. I'm weirdly excited to carry a baby too, I don't know. I was thinking about it when I got undressed after work today, crawling into bed with you, with our baby in me."
"That sounds so nice."
"I mean, realistically, I'll probably have hemorrhoids and pregnancy acne and my feet will swell ten times their size, but that doesn't even make me want to do this any less."
"I love you a lot" Brittany smiles so fondly, that it makes Santana's whole face burn hot. "And I can't wait to do this with you."
As they start to get ready for dinner, Santana feels sort of bubbly. She cuts vegetables while Brittany braises chicken, and Liam sits at the table coloring in his book, and there's this unmistakable sense that she's exactly where she should be. Like this home, this life, this possibility of a baby in the future is exactly where it should be. Brittany feels it too, Santana thinks. It's in her kisses, it's in her smiles, it's in the way she places her hand on her lower back, when they open the door to let their guests in. It's everywhere, and it lifts Santana higher and higher into her happiness.
"I like 'Cedes best." Liam announces, bouncing on her lap.
"Liam." Brittany covers her mouth to stifle her laugh, and Mercedes ruffles his hair.
"That's right, little dude, you know how to pick 'em." Sam leans over and high-fives him.
"Did you get wedding?" He asks Sam, who turns bright red. "'Cuz I did, and I got a Mommy Noodle."
"I can't believe—" Kurt leans to whisper in Santana's ear, as she bites into her green beans. "That you're Mommy Noodle."
"Jealous much?" She rolls her eyes.
"No thanks, surgery's my baby. If I want to be Chief someday…"
"Uh, good luck with that happening. We all know who the next Chief of Surgery is."
"Brittany." The table choruses, and Artie's daughter Genevieve claps.
"That's you, Mama! You gonna be fire chief?" His eyes widen, and he giggles. "Yay!"
"No, baby, not fire chief. Not any chief, everyone's just being silly." She shakes her head, biting back a smile.
"Oh, come on, Britt." Artie chides. "We all know you're a shoe in."
"Totally moot point. Sue's still alive, and will probably live forever, given whatever is on those shakes she drinks. There's no race for chief."
"There's always a race for chief." Mercedes sucks her teeth. "Girl, we know it'll be you, and we're not mad. Just make sure it's not Berry, whatever you do."
"I don't even work there, and I know that'll never happen." Dave chuckles.
"It won't be Berry." Santana laces her fingers with Brittany's under the table, enjoying this so much more than she'd expected. "Babe, for real though…"
"Honestly, I'm not even thinking about that right now." She meets Santana's eyes and smiles softly. "If it comes up, we'll see what happens, but I'm telling you right now, Sue Sylvester will outlive us all."
"To Sylvester." Kurt raises his glass.
"To Sylvester!"