Author's Note: Number 40 of the Don't Blink series set a few years after Watching the World Take On A New Form and before A Love That's Divine. Family and fababy fluff with a side of Santaresa.
Unbetaed so all mistakes are my own.
Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters. I just like to play with them…strictly non-profit.
Awakening Inside A Dream
Suddenly I can see
Everything I've waited for
Awakening inside a dream
So what are we waiting for?
~What Are We Waiting For, Ruelle
The subject is abruptly broached for the (second) first time on a random Thursday night in early September. Santana and Teresa invite them over for dinner, and Quinn jumps at the opportunity to have someone else cook for her for a change. Rachel grumbles at the comment, because, "I cook for you." In fact, her skills in the kitchen have improved enough for her to manage those perfect home-cooked meals that she'd once aspired to without incident—the occasional broken dish or melted spatula notwithstanding.
"I know you do, sweetie," Quinn coos, patting her hand, "but this way, neither one of us has to worry about cleaning up after."
And really, Rachel has no desire to argue with that.
Calliope is invited too, obviously—she's Santana's favorite (and only) goddaughter, after all—but in an effort to have a little adult time and to keep Santana from pumping their daughter full of sugar and riling her up before sending her home well past her bedtime when Rachel has an early call-time on set tomorrow, they agree that it's a good opportunity to have Shelby and Beth come over to babysit.
At sixteen, Beth is convinced that she should be allowed the honors of babysitting alone, but Shelby wisely refuses to let her take the train by herself from New Jersey—a decision that Quinn is one hundred percent on board with—so the Corcoran women are still a package deal when it comes to watching Calliope. Rachel suspects that Shelby isn't very keen to change this detail, as it means getting to spend more time with her granddaughter.
As it happens, dinner is not merely a chance for dear friends to catch up or to shower Rachel with (well-deserved) accolades for her recent Emmy nomination or attempt to get spoilers from Quinn on the newest book in her series or even to hear about Teresa's latest foray into illustrating children's books (thanks to Aileen's diligent recruitment) or her upcoming gallery show. All of those things happen, of course, but it's after dinner, when they're all relaxing in the living room, that Rachel and Quinn discover the real reason that they were invited on this particular evening.
"So we're thinking of knocking up Resa," Santana blurts out after having casually taken a sip of her Corona, causing Quinn to nearly choke on her wine. "What's the name of that doctor you used again?"
Rachel is too surprised by Santana's blunt announcement and Quinn's dramatic reaction to formulate an immediate response. Instead, she reaches over to rub Quinn's back until she stops sputtering, and while she's mostly focused on her wife, she still manages to catch Teresa lifting a hand to her forehead as she shakes her head in exasperation. "So much for tactfully broaching the subject."
A completely unrepentant smirk curves Santana's lips, and she leans in closer to her wife on the loveseat. "The only bush I beat around is yours."
The comment does nothing to help Quinn's recovery. "Oh, my God," she rasps, gaping at them incredulously.
Teresa offers what might be considered an apologetic smile if not for the clear amusement on her face. "I'd apologize for her, but she was your friend long before she was my wife."
Rachel still doesn't regret her part in helping to make that particular match, even on the occasions when Teresa proves to be a little too similar to Santana for anyone's peace of mind.
"Please," Santana scoffs, one arm still slung over Teresa's shoulders while the other points the neck of her bottle at them. "You all love me." Her gaze zeros in on Quinn. "Now if you're done coughing up your chardonnay, Q, how about you cough up that doctor's name?"
The smirk is still in place along with the snarky phrasing, but neither quite manage to undermine the seriousness of her request. Quinn seems to realize it too. "You're really trying to get pregnant?" she asks with a trace of wonder in her voice, carefully setting aside her wine.
It's clear from Teresa's soft smile and slight nod that the answer is yes, but—
"Been going at it like rabbits hopped up on Viagra," Santana answers with her typical flare,"but apparently even I'm not that amazing, so we figured we'd give science a go."
Despite that particular visual being shoved into her brain—or perhaps because of it—Rachel finds herself smothering a giggle. Santana really doesn't need the encouragement, as evidenced by her wicked grin, and Teresa seems to agree because she gently elbows her wife. "Cool it with the jokes, tiger."
Santana looks momentarily annoyed at the chastisement, but then she sighs. "Yeah, we want a kid," she confirms quietly, endearingly awkward at the admission. "Is that so surprising?"
She looks genuinely wounded by the possibility that it might be, and Rachel immediately shakes her head. "No. No, it really isn't."
Rachel vividly recalls the countless times that Santana has snuggled with and cooed over Calliope from the time she'd been a newborn baby until now. It truly has been a revelation to watch the woman who'd once made a voodoo doll of Rachel turn into someone who'll spend an hour playing pretend with her daughter's stuffed animals, and while the Rachel of ten years ago (or even four) would have been more than a little surprised by Santana's maternal streak, now she has no doubt that her friend will be a wonderful mother. Both of them will be.
"I'm actually surprised it took you this long," Quinn adds with a delighted smile.
Santana rolls her eyes. "Not all of us wanna pop out a rugrat the day we get married."
"We waited a year," Quinn defends weakly.
"And we've waited two," Santana counters, making it clear that they've decided not to wait any longer.
"Oh, you're having a baby!" Rachel gushes excitedly, clapping her hands.
"Well, not yet," Teresa laughingly corrects.
"That's kinda why we need the name of your doctor," Santana prods again.
"So you've decided on IVF?" is what Quinn asks instead of answering. If Rachel didn't know better, she'd think her wife is attempting to irritate Santana by purposely withholding the name of their reproductive endocrinologist. In fact, judging by the slightly smug grin currently pulling at Quinn's lips, Rachel suddenly thinks she's doing exactly that.
"We're still discussing all our options," Teresa answers, glancing at Santana with a tender smile, "but it's definitely at the top of our list."
Santana nods. "And, I mean, you got a pretty great kid out of that whole reciprocal deal."
Rachel's gaze slides to her wife at the same time that Quinn glances at her, and she sees the perfect reflection of her own soft smile on Quinn's lips. "Yeah, we really did," Quinn murmurs reverently, reaching for Rachel's hand. Rachel's smile only grows as she twines their fingers together. Calliope is the most amazing little person, and Rachel can't imagine having chosen any other way to bring her into the world.
"Okay, so yeah." Santana says, calling their attention back to her. "We're gonna need the blow-by-blow on that so we know what we'll be getting into if we go that route."
"Really, Santana," Rachel huffs. "Were you not paying attention when Quinn told you about it the first time?"
Santana shrugs unapologetically. "Not really, no."
"I was paying attention," Teresa assures them, shrugging,"but it's been a few years, and we have some questions."
"Like how bad did those drugs fuck you up?"
Just the mention of the fertility drugs and the memory of the daily shots brings an immediate grimace to Rachel's face. "They were awful," she groans at the exact moment that Quinn claims, "They weren't that bad."
Rachel looks at her wife in genuine disbelief. She knows that Quinn had had an easier time with them, but she's fairly certain that they'd been in agreement that the drugs were not in any way, shape, or form a pleasant experience for either one of them.
"Well, that's completely unhelpful," Santana grumbles in irritation, slipping her arm off of her wife's shoulders.
Quinn's eyes seem to be warning Rachel not to discourage their friends. Rachel imagines her own eyes are screaming that there's no way in hell any positive words about those drugs will be passing her lips. They've been together long enough that Quinn 'hears' her loud and clear, as evidenced by the way she breaks eye contact with Rachel and calmly turns back to their friends. "All you need to know is that it was totally worth it," she informs them evenly.
"That's actually not all you need to know," Rachel interjects, ignoring the way Quinn squeezes her hand in silent disapproval, "but I do agree with Quinn that having Calliope was ultimately worth the godawful drug regime."
"It definitely was," Quinn agrees, loosening her grip on Rachel's hand. "And we wholeheartedly recommend using Doctor Klein at Chelsea Fertility."
"Finally," Santana mutters, elbowing Teresa. "Remember that name, Rese."
Quinn shakes her head, biting back a smile. "I'll text you her information."
"We'd appreciate that," Teresa says gratefully.
"Now about those drugs," Santana circles back around, looking straight at Rachel as she leans forward in her seat. "How godawful are we talking?"
Quinn groans, but Rachel ignores her, grinning triumphantly. It's not as if she's planning to overwhelm them with countless horror stories to scare them away from considering the in vitro, but she strongly believes that they need to be informed of all the potential side effects so they can make an educated decision—even if it's just about scheduling when to begin their treatment.
So they spend the next hour or so talking about their own experiences in more detail than they have in years. Really, when Rachel stops to think about it, she's not sure that either one of them have ever actually shared all the embarrassing moments and side effects of their treatment with anyone outside of their doctors and nurses. Their friends and family had all gotten the abbreviated, post-pregnancy version in which a glowing Quinn had explained the process in general terms without any specific mentions of what both of their bodies had been put through to get to that point.
When they're done, both Santana and Teresa look just a little bit wary of the fertility drugs and all the testing they'll have to endure, but it's obvious that they're happy to have had some of their questions answered, and Rachel isn't very surprised when Teresa admits that, "Nothing you told us is really a deal breaker."
The expression on Santana's face makes Rachel think that she's slightly less convinced of that claim than her wife seems to be, but she's miraculously choosing to keep whatever opinion she has on that to herself for the moment. Rachel suspects, from her own experience with Quinn, that Santana would rather voice any concerns she has about the IVF to Teresa in private.
They might still be discussing the method, but it's pretty obvious that they're both eager to start a family together in the very near future. The reality of it has Rachel feeling suddenly giddy, and she finds herself grinning stupidly. "I'm so happy our kids will get to grow up together."
Most of their other friends in the city have been stubbornly determined to remain childless. She's nearly given up on Kurt and Harry ever taking that step—she's beginning to wonder if they'll ever even turn their (very) extended engagement into an actual marriage—and she's pretty much convinced that Josie and Sarah will never take the plunge into motherhood. Only Peter and Aileen have followed them into parenthood, and while Max is adorable, they just don't see them very often.
They also rarely ever see any of the old McKinley crew who have started their families in other cities.
Calliope really needs more children to play with.
"Don't go putting the diaper bag before the baby, midget," Santana warns. "We're not pregnant yet."
"You mean Teresa's not pregnant yet," Quinn corrects with a knowing smirk. They may not have decided exactly how they're going to start their family, but they seem pretty set on who's getting pregnant.
"Well, yeah," Santana agrees without any shame. "She has the less stressful career."
Quinn hums in understanding. It's the same reasoning that she and Rachel had used when they'd had Calliope. It had simply been easier for Quinn to accomodate a pregnancy at the time—not to mention that she'd actually wanted to be pregnant.
"And really," Teresa says with a conspiratorial grin, "adding pregnancy hormones to Santana's natural charm is maybe not the best idea when her job involves having a sharp instrument in her hand."
Rachel feels that statement to the very depth of her soul. "That is a very wise decision."
Teresa nods emphatically. "I know, right?"
"I'm sitting right here," Santana complains with a scowl.
The "We know" is chorused in three seperate voices, resulting in a rude gesture from Santana and much laughter from the rest of them.
Their dinner party comes to an end soon after that. Rachel and Quinn really do need to get home to their daughter, so they leave with promises to do it again soon.
The late summer evening is clear and mild, and it's still early enough that the streets and sidewalks are alive with delayed commuters and post-dinner pedestrians, so they don't hesitate to walk the three blocks back to their building.
Quinn's hand slips into hers the moment they hit the sidewalk, and they fall into an easy cadance, heels clicking rhythmically on the pavement. "Tonight was nice," she murmurs, a content smile on her face.
"It was," Rachel agrees with a nod. Spending time with their friends is always nice, but tonight feels particularly gratifying with the possibility of a little Lopez-Rinaldi teasing at her mind. "Do you think they'll decide to do the reciprocal IVF?"
"It sounded like Teresa was leaning that way already," Quinn muses, and Rachel silently agrees. She obviously hadn't seemed anymore thrilled than Santana by everything that's involved with it, but she's never seemed the type to shy away from a challenge. She'd married Santana, after all. "If they do, we might have to steer clear of Santana while she's on the drugs," she adds with obvious amusement.
Rachel shudders at the very thought of Santana strung out on hormones. "For Teresa's sake, I hope Santana has an easier time than I did."
"I hope they both do."
Rachel nods her agreement. "But not too easy," she reconsiders, feeling suddenly wicked. "They should at least have to experience some of the suffering we endured."
"You're terrible," Quinn laughingly accuses before her lips curl into a smirk. "But I agree." They share a laugh at their friends' expense—really, Santana and Teresa will be none the wiser—before Quinn admits, "I can't wait to see them as moms though."
Rachel feels the same sense of anticipation, even though she already has a fairly good idea of what they'll be like just from watching them interact with Calliope. She thinks they'll be pretty darned wonderful.
"I bet their nursery will be a masterpiece." The mural that Teresa had painted for Calliope still proudly adorns the wall of her room, and that was an impromptu design that she'd painted in a matter of hours for someone else's baby. Rachel can't even begin to imagine what she'll be able to create with nine months to plan it out.
Quinn laughs, shaking her head. "I bet Santana will be even worse than you were and won't let Teresa near any of her paints for the entire pregnancy."
Rachel opens her mouth to argue, mostly in her own defense, but, "You may be right," she acknowledges, recalling that Santana had been firmly on Rachel's side when it came to keeping Quinn away from the paint fumes. She'll undoubtedly be even more diligent when it comes to the health and well-being of her own wife and child. "But I can't see Santana winning that particular argument." Painting is Teresa's lifeblood. Rachel imagines that she'll find the safest way to keep doing it, even if it means wearing the particular style of respirator mask that does, in fact, make one look like Darth Vader.
"You're probably right," Quinn admits, still grinning.
Rachel grins right back. "I was beginning to wonder if they were ever going to decide to start a family. Calliope is already three."
Quinn bites down on her smile. "I know. It's rude of them to have deprived her of a playmate for so long."
It takes a moment, but Rachel does register that she's being gently mocked, and she casts her wife a sidelong glance. "I know you think you're making fun of me, Quinn, but you're actually making a very valid point. Even if Teresa gets pregnant right away, there will be a four year age gap between our children. That will make scheduling playdates very difficult."
"Rachel," Quinn gently admonishes, amusement still clear in her expression. "As much as we both believe the world should revolve around our daughter, our friends deciding if and when to start their family really has nothing to do with us."
"Except for the part where they invited us over to ask us about the process," Rachel reminds her, attempting to arch an eyebrow—she's gotten so much better at it, but she's still no match for her wife's casual employment of the trick.
"Yeah, except that part," Quinn concedes, easily steering them around the corner in the direction of their building.
All their talk of babies is playing through Rachel's mind, bringing so many unexpected thoughts and emotions to the surface—things she hasn't really thought much about in years. "They're braver than I was," she murmurs just as they reach their building, glancing over at Quinn with a self-deprecating smile. Quinn's brow furrows in confusion, so Rachel clarifies. "Telling us they're trying to get pregnant."
Quinn's expression clears with understanding. "Yeah. You were kind of a basket case about that."
"I was being cautious," Rachel defends, knowing that she'd undoubtedly make the same decision again.
"I know." Quinn squeezes her hand in reassurance before she guides Rachel into the lobby. "I actually liked that it was something private between us for those first few months."
Rachel had liked that too—and not just because she'd been terrified that something might go wrong. "Quinn," she demands urgently, catching her wife's full attention before she can call the elevator. "My natural inclination will be to press Santana and Teresa for details on their progress in the coming months." She knows herself too well to believe she can fight her inherent curiosity for long. "You may need to keep me in check."
"I'll do my best," Quinn promises on a laugh.. "But you may have to keep me in check too."
"I'm really not very good at that," Rachel warns, especially when she and Quinn ultimately want the same thing.
Quinn's smile turns tender. "You're better than you know."
Rachel grins at her wife, basking in the warmth of her own contentment and the bubbling sense of anticipation for their friends. "Is it weird that I'm this excited for them?"
Quinn's smile widens. "No. I am too. Talking about babies with them makes me want..." She lets her words trail off with a firm shake of her head, and her expression turns wistful. "Never mind," she dismisses, turning away as she presses the button to summon the elevator.
It's not hard to guess what she'd been about to say, and Rachel's stomach does an odd little flip. That bubbling anticipation takes on an entirely different meaning. "Quinn? Are you...do you want another baby?"
Quinn catches her lower lip between her teeth as her eyes fall back on Rachel, and it's impossible to miss the undisguised longing in them. "I know we said that Callie would probably be our only child, and your schedule lately has been…"
"Not ideal," Rachel supplies into Quinn's weighted hesitation. She's fully aware that she's come dangerously close to spending more time on sets and in studios over the last year than she has with Quinn and their daughter. It's everything that she'd feared could happen when they'd first talked about having a baby, and she knows Quinn is as frustrated by it as she is proud of Rachel's success. It's a very fine line that they're currently walking.
"No. It really isn't," Quinn agrees with a sad smile, and Rachel's heart clenches.
The elevator arrives then, doors sliding open to reveal an empty car. Quinn steps inside, and Rachel quickly follows, vowing, "I'm going to scale back next year, Quinn. I hate how much time I've been spending away from you and Calliope."
Quinn's sigh betrays her lack of confidence in Rachel's statement. "You're obligated to film a third season of Union City Blues," she points out evenly, "and you're supposed to start recording another album in a few months, and God only knows what Confessions will mean for you."
Rachel winces slightly at the laundry list of her commitments. She'd only just finished filming the big screen version of the stage role she'd originated, and while Quinn and Calliope had come to Los Angeles with her for part of the summer, Rachel had been so busy with the hectic movie schedule that she hadn't actually had much time for them. It certainly hadn't been any kind of vacation.
"Okay, so maybe next year will still be crazy," she admits, wishing that she could figure out exactly how to prioritize her family without sacrificing all the amazing career opportunities that have fallen into her path, "but if I don't take on any new projects, things will calm down some." She thinks her current projects are enough to keep her content for a while.
"Enough to have another baby?"
Rachel wishes that she wasn't able to see the barely disguised hope on Quinn's face, but even if she hadn't grown so skilled at reading her wife's expressions, she doubts she'd be able to miss the longing in her voice. "I don't know," she answers honestly. There's a very brief flash of panic at the thought of adding a second child to their already busy lives—and sweet Barbra, does Rachel hate herself for it!—but then all the joy and happiness of being a mother washes it away, leaving behind an unexpected craving.
"Do you...would you want that?" Quinn asks hesitantly. "Because I think you already know how I feel about it."
Rachel does. She knows that her wife would happily add to their family. "I think..." The elevator chooses that moment to arrive at their floor, and Rachel lets her unspoken thought trail off as she glances toward the open door. "We should probably table this discussion until later."
Quinn's disappointment is palpable. "Yeah, later," she echoes with no enthusiasm, stepping past Rachel on her way out of the elevator. Rachel groans internally at her apparent faux pas as she rushes after Quinn.
"Yes, later," she repeats firmly. "It's not exactly a conversation we should be having in the hallway outside our neighbors' doors, and we have Shelby and Beth inside waiting for us."
Quinn sighs again. "I know." She shrugs. "And I know we wouldn't even be talking about this at all if it weren't for Santana and Teresa."
"Maybe not," Rachel admits, reaching out to lay her hand on Quinn's wrist. "But we should." That one inquisitive eyebrow arches—yes, it's inquisitive right now and still far more expressive than any of Rachel's sad attempts. "Later," she promises again, and then they're at their apartment and the subject drifts away as they step inside to greet Shelby and Beth.
Shelby is seated on the chair with her iPad in hand. The television is on with the volume low, and Beth is sprawled across the sofa half-watching it and half-intent on her phone while Oliver naps at her feet. "We're sorry we're a little later than expected," Rachel apologizes, though they're only about thirty minutes past her projected arrival time, but it is actually a school night for Beth, and they'd promised to be home in time for her to (pretend to) adhere to her own teenage-appropriate bedtime.
Oliver instantly awakens at Rachel's voice, jumping from the sofa and curling around her feet with soft mewls, and she reflexively reaches down to scratch his head, appeasing him.
"It's fine," Shelby returns with a smile. "I'll never complain about extra time with my granddaughter."
"And I'll never complain about chilling in your apartment and taking advantage of all your streaming services," Beth adds with a smirk that only gets more similar to Quinn's with each passing year.
Shelby shakes her head at her daughter's comment. "Most of that streaming was Disney until Callie's bedtime."
"Which was strictly adhered to," Beth promises, sitting up on the sofa.
Quinn sits down next to her, and Oliver immediately abandons Rachel's ankles to jump on her lap. "Did she give you any problems?" she asks Beth as she strokes Oliver's head. Calliope really likes to push the limits of her seven o'clock bedtime, but since she's proving to be an early riser, she tends to get very cranky if she stays up too late. It's one of the reasons they hadn't taken her with them tonight.
"A little," Beth admits with a shrug, "but Mom sang to her and she went out like a light."
"Yeah, she does that with Rachel too," Quinn relays, smiling sweetly at her wife.
Rachel grins, nodding to her mother. "I suppose we just have the knack."
Shelby smiles back at her, and it feels nice to share the moment. They've come a long way in the last few years. It doesn't entirely make up for those first stilted years of non-relationship, but these days, Shelby is at least a kind-of mother-figure if still not exactly a mom.
"So how was your dinner?" Shelby asks.
"It was good," Rachel replies, glancing at Quinn. "The conversation was certainly interesting."
Quinn shares a secretive smile with her before laughing a little. "It's always nice to have some adult conversation after spending most of my days with a toddler."
Rachel frowns a little, wondering if that might be a little dig at her extended absences, but then Beth is saying, "You can have adult conversations with me. I'll totally be your go-to person from eleven to one. I have history before lunch and my teacher is so boring," she laments in that way that only a teenager can.
"Nice try, kiddo," Shelby admonishes with a fond grin.
"Come on," Beth whines. "It's not like we're learning real history anyway. It's just homogenized whitewashing of atrocities committed against minorities by our government in the name of capitalism."
"Have you been taking notes on moralizing rants from Rachel?" Quinn teases.
"Hey," Rachel protests weakly. "That sounds like something you could have said too."
Beth giggles. "I guess you've both rubbed off on me. I mean, I've only known you my whole life."
"Plus nine months," Quinn murmurs, and there's a wistful smile on her face amidst the gentle laughter that makes Rachel suspect that she's wondering just where the years have gone. Rachel has to admit that she's been wondering that too. Beth is the same age now as Quinn was when she was born, and at the right angle and with the right expression, Beth looks so much like Quinn did then that it's almost scary.
Also, kind of wonderful.
But mostly scary.
They chat for a little while longer about Beth's classes and her latest non-scholastic ventures until Shelby decides that it's time for them to head home before it gets too late. So they exchange hugs and goodnights before they see them out the door, leaving them free to enjoy the relative quiet of their apartment.
It's not even ten o'clock yet, but it's been an eventful day, and Rachel does have that early call-time tomorrow, so there's really no question that they'll be calling it a night. Some people might consider them boring, but those people don't have an active toddler and have to get up at four in the morning for work.
The first stop they make is to their daughter's room, slowly opening the door to peek inside without waking her up. Tucking her in is a favorite nightly ritual for them, and neither one of them likes surrendering the task to anyone else—not even their parents—but it's a sacrifice that has to be made on occasion in order for them to have a life outside of their apartment. Still, the very best nights are the ones in which she and Quinn get to wrangle Calliope into her bed together, with Quinn reading her a bedtime story and Rachel singing her to sleep with a lullaby. Despite Rachel's schedule typically involving more early mornings than late nights these days, there are still evenings when she's left to bid a silent goodnight to her daughter after she's already fast asleep, and tonight is one of them.
The starry sky night-light that Rachel hadn't been able to resist buying casts a soft glow of stars over the room, illuminating it just enough to see Calliope sprawled out on her stomach in her Moana pajamas with her Frozen sheets kicked down to the bottom of her mattress. They'd converted the crib into a railed bed last year, and Callie had been thrilled with her new 'big girl' status.
The entire room looks less like a nursery these days and more like a little girl's bedroom, and Rachel is struck once again by how quickly the time seems to be passing. She drifts further into the room, intent on tugging the sheet up over Calliope's little body. The evenings might still be starting out on the warm side, but the wee hours of the morning can get chilly. Callie shifts ever so slightly under her touch when she settles the soft cotton over her shoulders, but she doesn't wake.
Rachel's heart swells with love for her daughter as her fingers brush over silky brown curls. Calliope is unarguably the best thing that she's ever created.
She can see so much of herself in Calliope—in her wide-eyed innocence, her boundless energy, her occasional stubbornness, and her tendency to forgive her mother's absences a little too easily. That last one isn't necessarily a trait that Rachel had wanted her daughter to inherit, but she can't help but be grateful for it. And she's also grateful for the parts of Quinn that she sees in their daughter—the sharp mind, inquisitive nature, and endless imagination. They really did manage to make the most perfect little human.
And Rachel is a good mom. She's made mistakes, of course—is still making them—but Calliope is happy and loving and so very wonderful, and Rachel and Quinn have done that. They're raising a beautiful daughter, and Rachel would do anything for her.
"Goodnight, little star," she whispers before she turns to leave, finding Quinn right there at her shoulder.
Quinn's adoring smile moves from Calliope to Rachel as she reaches for Rachel's hand, silently tipping her head to the door to indicate that they should leave. Rachel nods, and together they tiptoe out of Callie's room with Rachel pausing to quietly close the door behind them. She hesitates there a moment, briefly pressing her fingertips to the wood before she turns to face Quinn—her beautiful wife; the mother of their child.
Still smiling, Quinn gives her hand a squeeze. "Shelby and Beth must have really tuckered her out," she muses softly. "I was sure she'd wake up when we looked in on her."
"Mmm, yeah," Rachel breathes, walking with Quinn to their bedroom. But her thoughts are still on their daughter, specifically on her absolute perfection and the possibility that a second child could be equally perfect. It's as though Santana's announcement and the subsequent conversation had granted Rachel's brain permission to wander around that particular dark corner—the same one that contains her worries about Calliope being an only child.
They've tried not to spoil her too much, but Rachel is aware that it's happening, and she's also acutely aware that Calliope doesn't really have any playmates her own age. She's imaginative enough to entertain herself for hours, and she seems to be taking to preschool well enough, but she hasn't come home gushing about any particular friends just yet. Granted, it's been less than two months, and Calliope is generally a little more reserved with strangers than Rachel could ever claim to be, but she knows first hand what it's like to be an only child and how hard it can be to make new friends. She doesn't want that for her daughter.
She wonders if having a sibling would make a difference.
She wonders if she's thinking about it for Calliope's sake or her own.
Rachel finds herself sinking down into the rocking chair that they'd moved from Callie's bedroom to theirs while Quinn slips off her shoes with a sigh of relief. Her eyes are on her wife but her mind is busily compiling a pros and cons list for expanding their family. There's an undeniable urge to place things in the pro column that really should tell her everything she needs to know.
"Remind me not to wear these shoes when we're walking," Quinn murmurs as she pads to the closet.
Rachel's completely distracted response is, "Maybe."
Quinn pauses to glance back at Rachel, one hand on the closet door and her shoes dangling from the other. "You'll maybe remind me?" she asks, quirking that eyebrow of hers again.
Rachel shakes her head, coming fully back into the moment as she meets her wife's amused gaze. "The answer to your earlier question. It's maybe." Her mental list isn't yet complete enough for her to commit to a hard and fast decision.
There's a moment of confusion, but Quinn is a very intelligent woman, so it clears almost as quickly as it comes. "To...having another baby?" she clarifies, glittering eyes intent on Rachel.
Rachel nods. "I can't deny that I've been thinking more about the implications of Calliope being an only child, and finding out that Santana and Teresa are planning to have a child of their own has only made me more aware of how quickly the years seem to be passing. We should probably decide sooner rather than later if she's going to have a sibling."
Quinn takes a visible breath before carelessly tossing her shoes into the closet behind her. "You know, we still have five frozen embryos," she says as she closes the distance between them.
Rachel nods again. "I know." The fact that she wouldn't need to endure the egg harvesting portion of the IVF treatment regime again is firmly in the pro column on her mental list.
An excited smile blooms on Quinn's lips right before she practically throws herself into Rachel's lap, sending the chair rocking. Rachel bites back her laughter as she reaches for her wife's waist. "I'm more than willing to get pregnant again," Quinn informs her happily, looping her arms around Rachel's shoulders.
"I know you are, baby." Though there'd been a few weeks at the very end of her pregnancy with Callie (and possibly the first several weeks after giving birth) when her willingness to do it all again might have been somewhat in question. "But I'm not sure that I'm willing to let you."
Quinn leans back, her expression suddenly unamused. "Let me? You maybe wanna rephrase that?"
"Not particularly." Quinn's eyes narrow in warning, but Rachel ignores it. "You've gone through two pregnancies already, and I promised myself that I'd never ask you to do that again."
Quinn's face instantly softens. "You're not asking. I'm offering."
"And I am not accepting your offer without serious deliberation and intensive discussion on the matter."
Quinn taps her fingers against Rachel's shoulder in silent contemplation before she finally speaks. "But we're maybe discussing it?"
"We are." Rachel is settled on that much, at least. "Maybe sometime after I wrap this season of Union City? " she suggests, thinking that's a reasonable time frame for them to reevaluate their current commitments and determine if they can handle a second child. "Because I think you can agree that there's just way too much going on in the next six months for us to even consider adding a baby to the mix right now."
And it's not only Rachel who has a lot going on. Quinn is working on her fifth book, and the second film based on her series is going into pre-production soon, and she'll be doing more book signings and interviews and guest lectures in the coming months.
Quinn sighs. "I know."
"But...maybe later next year we can really think about it."
Quinn's lips curve up again. "Oh, I'm already thinking about it, Rachel," she warns playfully. "But I can wait a little while longer for your maybe to turn into a yes."
"You seem awfully confident that it will," Rachel notes with some amusement, silently conceding that she has a good reason to be.
Quinn lifts a hand to caress Rachel's cheek. "Because I know you, sweetie. I see how you are with Callie. You love being a mom."
"I really do," Rachel whispers, feeling suddenly emotional under the warmth of those hazel eyes—until those eyes begin to twinkle with mirth.
"And I know you can't possibly resist the chance to have two mini-yous to cuddle you and call you mama and shower you with unconditional love."
Laughter bubbles out of Rachel, and really, it's such a lovely image—though that hypothetical second mini-her still looks more like a mini-Quinn in her mind. "We'll see," she hedges, grinning at her wife.
"We will," Quinn agrees happily, unabashedly doing some of that cuddling herself. "Until then, we can keep on practicing baby-making the natural way."
Rachel giggles. "Do you think we'll be any more successful than Santana and Teresa?"
Quinn's grin is downright wicked. "There's only one way to find out." And then her mouth is over Rachel's, and all verbal discussion on the matter is effectively put to bed—quite literally. If Rachel doesn't actually get much sleep before her early call-time in the morning, the restless night proves to be utterly worth it.
xx
The subject of a second child doesn't come up again in the next several months. Quinn is feverishly working on completing her newest book by the end of the year and taking phone calls in which she yells about everything that's wrong with the screenplay for the second movie. When Rachel isn't on set filming her show, her attention is on writing the last few songs for the album that she's supposed to start recording in January. She's been working on it off and on for the better part of a year in between her other projects, finding inspiration in her wife and daughter. Quinn had even collaborated with her on the lyrics for two of the songs, and by the time the calendar changes to December, Rachel is confident that she has the makings of a really good record.
Union City Blues takes a break from production for the holidays, so she's free to be home with her family and concentrate on her favorite role of wife and mother. It's during this break that they finally put up their Christmas tree—a real one this year—while they engage in the tradition of singing along to their favorite Christmas carols.
Calliope stands on the very tips of her toes and reaches as high as she can with a determined look on her face, wanting to hang the little star-shaped ornament that bears her name. Quinn, noticing their daughter's struggle, kneels down behind her and lifts her up—despite the fact that she's getting too heavy for Quinn to lift—so she can reach a higher branch. Calliope squeals in delight, begging, "Higher Mommy," as she points up well beyond the branch they'd both thought she'd been aiming for.
Rolling her eyes, Quinn adjusts her hold on Calliope and heaves herself up off the floor with an audible huff before Rachel can make it to her side to help. Groaning, Quinn straightens and settles Callie on her hip. "This is as high as you're going, baby bear, so pick a good branch."
Callie pouts a little. "Wanna put it on top."
Quinn turns to Rachel with a grin. "She gets this from you. Always reaching for the top."
Rachel silently flushes with pleasure because it's true, and their little girl absolutely should reach for the top, but she points at Quinn warningly. "Don't you dare lift her up there." There's no way she's letting her wife lift their daughter higher than her waist. She's already moved the tree twice and dug the box of ornaments out of the closet.
"But Mama," Calliope whines, turning those pleading hazel eyes on Rachel, and she's as powerless to resist them with Calliope as she's always been with Quinn.
"Let me get the step stool." It's already been brought out of the closet and parked in the corner in anticipation of stringing up the garland and placing the star atop the tree.
"Mama's too short to reach the top branch," Quinn laughingly informs their daughter.
Rachel shoots her a withering look as she moves the stool into position. "Mama is just intelligent enough not to throw out her back by attempting to lift thirty-two pounds of unbridled energy over her head."
"What's bwi-ded en-a-gee?" Callie asks curiously.
"Unbridled energy," Quinn enunciates for their daughter, tapping her nose with a grin. "And that's you."
"Nuh uh," Callie argues, shaking her head adamantly. "I'm a star." She holds out the ornament in demonstration. "And stars go on top."
Rachel can't help smiling as she steps up onto the stool. "They most certainly do," she agrees, opening her arms for her daughter. "So come here, little star. We'll get your ornament up there where it belongs."
Calliope reaches for her with an excited, "Yay," while Quinn easily transfers her into Rachel's waiting arms. Rachel only has to lift Callie as high as her breasts for her to be able to reach the top branch. Quinn's hands are firm at her waist, anchoring her, and as soon as Calliope carefully hangs her ornament, Rachel safely tucks her against her body and feels warm all over when she's rewarded with a tight hug. "Love you, Mama."
Rachel closes her eyes and breathes in the scent of her daughter. "I love you too, little star."
"What about me?" Quinn questions with sparkling eyes. "Don't I get some love too?"
Callie giggles, happily reaching for Quinn when Rachel lowers her down. "Love you, Mommy."
Smiling, Rachel jumps down from the stool and wraps her arms around both of her girls. "Yes, we love you, Mommy."
Quinn sighs happily, looking as content as Rachel feels, and it's really not surprising in the least that the hazy image of another child begins to take a more solid form in Rachel's mind. She always thinks more about her family this time of year; the one she was born to and the one that she's made. There's more than enough love here to encompass another precious little heart. She's just not entirely certain there's enough time.
By January, it becomes clear that Santana and Teresa are moving forward with their own plans to start a family. Even if Santana didn't feel the need to bitch about the side-effects of the drugs—and really, it's Santana, so of course she wants to share her misery with her nearest and dearest friends whom she knows have been through all of this too—they would have probably figured it out on their own after she'd broken down in ugly tears just from hearing a rough cut of the song that Rachel had written for Calliope.
Santana doesn't actually tell them what stage of the process that she and Teresa are in at any given moment, and Quinn barely manages to keep Rachel (and herself) from asking for details, but they're able to take an educated guess just from Santana's mood swings. It has Rachel thinking about the IVF again, though she doesn't voice her thoughts to Quinn. She already knows that her wife wants another child and would be on the phone to schedule an appointment the moment that Rachel decides she's ready. It would be ridiculously easy for Rachel to let her. She wouldn't even need to do anything but hold Quinn's hand this time around.
But that would mean passing up the chance to experience a pregnancy of her own.
It isn't something that Rachel had imagined she would need. There'd obviously been a certain curiosity when Quinn had been pregnant with Calliope. She'd been in awe of the changes in Quinn's body, and rendered speechless by the sound of their daughter's heartbeat inside of Quinn and every little kick and roll and turn that she'd been allowed to feel from the outside. But she'd also been more than a little panicked by the sight of Quinn in labor and undeniably relieved that she didn't have to experience that kind of pain.
It's a little selfish, she knows, but then that's still an aspect of her character that she hasn't fully suppressed.
Still, the possibility of actually being pregnant keeps tickling at her brain, especially when she and Quinn both begin to notice a certain familiar glow to Teresa in early March—and a certain familiar nervous awe to Santana that's becoming increasingly difficult for her to hide. No formal announcements have been made yet, and Rachel doesn't blame them in the least for waiting until they're a little further along. It's exactly what she and Quinn had done, with the exception of being forced to confirm Santana's accurate guess. She and Quinn agree to refrain from calling out their friends in quite the same way (though it's incredibly difficult), but they both expect their assumption that there's a little Lopez-Rinaldi on the way to be confirmed soon.
The anticipation of watching two of her closest friends go through a pregnancy does strange things to Rachel. She's excited for them, of course, but there's also an unexpected flutter of jealousy. When she stops to really consider where it's coming from, beyond the obvious touch of baby-fever that's been steadily burning hotter since her conversation with Quinn in September, she concludes that her envy comes from the way Teresa has embraced her potential pregnancy with the same easy acceptance as Quinn had done hers. There's a very specific experience that she'll get to have—that Quinn had had twice—that remains just outside of Rachel's grasp, and something in her aches to know the unknown.
That ache grows on the days when Beth comes to visit and Rachel again takes note of her resemblance to Quinn. It grows in quiet moments when Calliope cuddles with her unprompted, and she's overwhelmed with the odd sort of wonder in knowing that her daughter is very much a part of her even though she'd been born from Quinn's body. It sparks a certain regret that she hadn't been able to feel Calliope grow beneath her own heart and an even stronger longing to carry Quinn's baby the way Quinn had so lovingly carried hers.
That longing is enough to have Rachel tentatively broaching the subject with the producers of Union City Blues. She's not expecting to need a maternity leave before they'll finish shooting the next season—and really, she expects that she'll want some downtime regardless of whether it's her or Quinn that gets pregnant next time—but she thinks she should warn them that it's unlikely she'll be renewing her contract for a fourth season. They're more understanding about it than she expects them to be, but then Abby isn't technically a main character. (It may possibly bruise her ego just a little.)
The other commitments on Rachel's schedule aren't so easily navigated. Her album is scheduled to be released in May, so there are interviews and music videos and performances already on her schedule through early August, when she'll need to shift some of her focus to the promotion of Confessions before its red carpet premiere. But even before her heart had started drifting to another baby, Rachel had argued and demanded and thrown a few memorable diva tantrums to ensure that her agenda will remain clear for her daughter's birthday, and her current schedule after August is pretty open outside of filming the third season of Union City Blues. It will mean sacrificing a full tour to promote her album, but she owes it to Quinn and Calliope to be more present in their day-to-day lives—and she owes it to herself.
It's on one of those days when Rachel is very present, enjoying a commitment-free Sunday afternoon in late April, that they get a semi-unannounced visit from Santana and Teresa—the semi being a quick phone call from Santana asking if they're home before the declaration that she and Teresa are on their way over.
Quinn informs Rachel of this with a speculative expression. "I have a feeling they're gonna tell us the thing we already kind of know."
They know but haven't said, and at this point, they're both fairly certain that Santana and Teresa know that they know but also haven't said. Their recent conversations have been somewhat amusing with all of the ways Quinn and Rachel find to ask how Teresa is doing without outright asking about pregnancy symptoms while Santana is equally creative in answering without giving that particular answer. Rachel half suspects that Santana has been purposely holding off on confirming it just to make them break down and ask her about it first.
A frisson of excitement races through Rachel, and she glances at Calliope, who's busily coloring a picture in her coloring book while Mulan streams on the television. "Well, the timing of this impromptu visit would seem to line up with good news."
"What's imp-won-too, Mama?" Callie asks, glancing up from her coloring.
Rachel stifles a grin at the mispronunciation. Calliope's vocabulary is growing at an impressive rate, but she's still having trouble wrapping her tongue around certain letter combinations. "Impromptu, little star. It's something that isn't planned."
"Like when we went to the park yesterday just because you wanted to see if there were any boats on the pond," Quinn elaborates with a smile.
Callie grins back at her. "I like impwomptu."
This time she slows down and says it more carefully, but she still can't quite get the 'r' sound out. It dawns on Rachel then that they're probably going to have to explain pregnancy to their precocious daughter before the day is over—a thought that proves to be correct once their friends arrive.
The glow is definitely still there—for both of them. They're all smiles when Quinn and Rachel greet them, and Santana swoops down to intercept Calliope when she comes running for them with an excited, "Aunt Tana! Aunt Tee!"
"Hi, Callie," Teresa greets with an easy smile, eyes sparkling as she watches her wife lift Callie off the ground.
"Hola, chiquitita." Santana attempts to settle Calliope against her hip with an audible grunt. "You're getting big."
Callie nods enthusiastically. "I'm almost four," she boasts, holding up the correct number of fingers.
"Ancient," Santana says solemnly. "You're still my munchkin though, right?"
"Yep," Callie affirms, and Santana flashes a satisfied grin before loudly pecking her cheek a half-dozen times and causing a riot of giggles.
"I really wish that nickname hadn't stuck," Rachel mutters, though she can't help smiling at their antics.
Santana's grin transforms into a smirk. "Please, you love it," she accuses knowingly, walking into the living room with Callie still in her arms. "And you love it too, don't ya, Cal?"
Of course, Rachel's precious little girl answers with an innocent, "Uh huh," rendering Rachel unable to object. Not that she really wants to, though she's loathe to admit it. The nicknames aren't her favorite thing in the world, but—well, Callie seems to enjoy them, and Rachel does love the rapport that Santana shares with her daughter. Who'd have ever imagined?
"I think that ship has sailed, sweetie," Quinn offers sympathetically, and Rachel sighs in resignation as she watches Santana carefully deposit Calliope onto the little blue bean bag chair that's taken up permanent residence in their living room, right next to the coffee table that holds her abandoned coloring book.
Oliver takes one look at Santana from his perch on the adjacent chair, growls in feline annoyance, and jumps off to retreat down the hallway. Santana rolls her eyes and waves him off before nodding to Calliope's half-colored picture. "I see you've been exercising your artistic streak there."
"It's Ollie," she announces happily, though the kitten she's currently coloring looks nothing like Oliver. For one thing, it's wearing a little bowtie and hat. Oliver would never tolerate either one. (Rachel knows. She's made a valiant attempt to keep the little Santa hat on his head every Christmas to no avail.) For another thing, Callie had chosen to color her kitten a lovely shade of violet. "Come see, Aunt Tee," she demands, holding up her coloring book for Teresa's inspection.
Teresa is Calliope's favorite person to color with for obvious reasons, and she bends down to get a better look at the picture with an indulgent grin. "Wow. That's awesome, Callie. You just keep getting better and better with those crayons."
Calliope beams. "I know."
Rachel kind of beams too, because it's true. Her daughter's color choices may be somewhat questionable, but she's getting really good at staying inside the lines. Even the pictures she draws freehand are pretty advanced in Rachel's not-very-humble opinion.
"And as modest as your mama," Santana drawls with a fond smile.
Teresa pokes her in the hip as she straightens. "Stop it."
Rachel only rolls her eyes, used to Santana's particular brand of teasing by now. "So Santana, to what do we owe this impromptu visit?" She stresses the new word with a pointed glance at her daughter, who giggles and nods before she happily goes back to coloring her picture.
Even so, Rachel doesn't fail to miss the look that Santana shares with Teresa—the soft smiles and barely suppressed excitement—before she (almost) answers. "Like you don't already know."
"But we've really appreciated your attempts to pretend you don't," Teresa adds with bright eyes, hand settling over her belly in the age-old tell. "Especially me, since it means Santana lost our bet that you'd cave in and ask."
Santana shrugs, not looking overly upset about it. "I figured you'd be chompin' at the bit to pay me back for being the first to know about that one." She points down at Calliope, who's apparently tuned out the adults in favor of coloring to the rhythm of her own quiet humming.
"Some of us can respect the delicacy of the situation," Rachel points out with a smug smile. She's even more proud of herself and Quinn for their restraint in light of the admission that Santana had, in fact, been purposely testing their patience—which is now at its end.
"Oh, will you just officially tell us already, so we can congratulate you," Quinn demands, grinning.
Santana chuckles, reaching over to take her wife's free hand, and Teresa's smile is absolutely radiant. "Yeah, so, we're having a kid."
Excitement erupts at the confirmation, and Rachel bounces on her toes. "Oh, yay," she cheers, immediately moving forward with only the briefest warning to Teresa that, "I'm hugging you now."
Teresa laughingly accepts the embrace, and Rachel is conscious of Quinn telling Santana to, "Come here, Mama," before she hugs her best friend.
Santana gets predictably choked up but makes a valiant effort to hide it before she gently pushes Quinn away with a gruff, "Yeah, let's not get sappy," quickly brushing at the moisture beneath her eyes.
Rachel takes the opportunity to let go of Teresa and immediately reach for Santana. "My turn."
The sound Santana makes is caught between a groan and a laugh, but she accepts Rachel's hug with grace while Quinn moves to bestow one on Teresa. "We're so happy for you."
"Thank you," Teresa murmurs, looking a little teary-eyed herself all of a sudden.
Quinn eases away with a fond smile, fingertips still resting on Teresa's biceps for a moment before she seems to realize something. "God, we're terrible hosts. Sit down," she instructs with a shake of her head, gesturing to the sofa.
Rachel frowns, suddenly aware that they're all still standing in the middle of the living room when there are several perfectly good pieces of furniture that they could be sitting on and one pregnant lady who'd probably been made to walk here. "Yes, you should definitely be sitting," she agrees, rushing to Teresa's side to urge her down onto the sofa, glad when Teresa complies with a laugh. "Prop up your feet if you need to. Can I get you some water? Oh...or milk?" Milk would definitely be better.
Still laughing, though thankfully now sitting, Teresa shakes her head. "Wow. You're almost as bad as Santana."
"Hey! She's way worse than me," Santana protests, sinking down on the sofa next to her wife.
Teresa gives her leg a comforting pat. "If you say so, tiger." Amused blue eyes move back to Rachel. "And I'm fine. Really. "
"I'm making sure of it," Santana vows, daring them to question her.
Quinn settles into the loveseat across from them, tugging Rachel down beside her. "When are you due?"
Teresa smothers another laugh, an oddly delighted expression on her face while Santana looks mildly chagrined. Rachel understands why when Teresa finally answers. "October thirty-first."
"Do not make any cracks about how fitting it is for my kid to be born on Halloween," Santana warns sharply, pointing a finger at them.
Quinn snickers, turning to Rachel with barely concealed glee. Rachel attempts to bite down on her own smile. "We wouldn't dare."
"Really? 'Cause I've already made a few," Teresa admits, obviously finding it nothing but humorous.
"It is scarily ironic," Quinn needles.
"Hardee-freaking-har," Santana mutters, her attempt at a scowl looking more like a pout—one that fades considerably when Teresa leans over to kiss her cheek.
"Mommy," Calliope interrupts, having wandered over to tug at Quinn's pant leg with her brow scrunched adorably in confusion. "What's on Halloween?"
It's not that any of them had forgotten that Calliope was in the room, and they'd all known that they'd be explaining Teresa's pregnancy to her before the day was through, but Rachel, at least, had expected her to ask why everyone was hugging and laughing rather than zeroing in on the specific mention of Halloween.
Quinn doesn't seem fazed in the slightest, leaning forward with a soft smile as she brushes back a lock of Callie's hair before resting a motherly hand on her tiny shoulder. "Well, Callie, honey. Aunt Santana and Aunt Teresa are going to have a baby."
Santana's smile goes a little bashful around the edges as she gazes at Teresa, and her hand sneaks out to touch her wife's belly. Rachel finds the small action ridiculously sweet.
Calliope purses her lips for a moment while she processes the information. "Like Max?" she finally asks.
"Pfft," Santana scoffs before Quinn can answer. "Way cooler than Max."
Teresa pokes her in the shoulder, and Callie turns around to aim her wide, curious eyes at her aunts. "Where's the baby now?"
Santana's smirk disappears in a heartbeat. "Uh...okay." Her eyes dart back and forth between Rachel and Quinn in quiet desperation. "You guys wanna take that one?"
Quinn chuckles, shaking her head as she gently rubs Calliope's back, and Teresa turns to Santana with a frown. "Really? Is that what you're gonna do when our kid asks?"
"I think we've got a few years before that happens," Santana defends.
"That's your goddaughter," Teresa stubbornly reminds her, holding out a hand in Callie's direction, "asking you now."
Rachel glances at Quinn, grinning. "I find this highly entertaining." Quinn returns the grin and nods.
Understanding that she's getting no help, Santana sighs. "Come here, munchkin," she prompts, holding out a hand to beckon Calliope over. Quinn makes sure that she carefully sidesteps the coffee table with a guiding touch, and Santana scoots over and lifts Callie onto the sofa between her and Teresa. "Okay, so, the baby is in Aunt Teresa's belly right now."
Callie frowns, looking from Santana to Teresa doubtfully. "Nu uh."
Teresa bites back a laugh while Santana counters with an exaggerated, "Uh huh. It's really tiny," she explains, holding up a hand and pinching her finger and thumb together like she's holding a quarter. "Like super tiny. Tinier than you." She touches Callie's nose with a sly grin. "Or your mama."
"She just can't help herself, can she?" Rachel mutters, more amused than annoyed at the moment, and Quinn giggles, shaking her head.
"But it'll get bigger," Santana continues, ignoring Rachel's comment, "and in a couple of months, you're gonna know it's in there."
Callie turns to look at Teresa again, eying her belly skeptically. "Does it hurt?"
"No. It doesn't hurt," Teresa assures her with a gentle smile. "It does feel a little weird sometimes though. Like when you eat too much ice cream and you feel kind of full but really happy." Quinn laughs a little at the comparison, and Rachel thinks it's probably a good way to describe early pregnancy to a child Calliope's age. Of course, Callie has no idea that the ice cream metaphor also successfully covers the bloating and the gurgling and the nausea that Quinn had complained about in her first trimester. "But it won't be long before I'll be able to feel him or her moving around in there." And it's clear from the tone of her voice and the sparkle in her eyes just how much Teresa is looking forward to that moment.
Rachel recognizes the tiny twinge in her own stomach as envy.
"Can I feel too?" Callie asks excitedly, looking like she wants to try right now.
Teresa laughs, nodding. "When there's something to feel, yeah. You absolutely can."
"Cool," Calliope decides with a grin.
"Yeah, it's super cool," Santana agrees, gazing lovingly at her wife. Her face is completely open and awash with happiness, and Rachel is so incredibly happy for her—for both of them. They're going to be such good moms.
"Mommy, can we have a baby too?" Calliope asks guilelessly.
Rachel stomach flips at the question, and her eyes immediately fly to Quinn, who gives Rachel a meaningful grin before answering their daughter. "Babies take some time to plan for, sunshine. Mama and I have to talk about it first."
This seems to appease Calliope if her little nod and, "Okay," is anything to judge by, and then she makes it clear that her curiosity about babies is currently satisfied when she leans over to say, "Bye baby," directly into Teresa's belly before carefully sliding down off the sofa to return to her coloring, unconcerned with the laughter of all four women.
"You're kid's kind of awesome," Santana tells them, still snickering.
"We know," Rachel returns proudly, reaching for Quinn's hand.
Santana snorts, wrapping her arm around Teresa and pulling her close. "Our's'll be more awesome though. Obviously."
That inevitably sparks a friendly debate, followed by more conversation centered on babies and pregnancy and the wonder of families. It's generally a lovely afternoon.
Of course, it's not surprising in the least that the subject of babies is brought up again after their friends have gone home and dinner has been had and Calliope has been tucked in for the night with a bedtime story and a lullaby. Their daughter seems to have forgotten all about babies already, but Quinn certainly hasn't.
"So...Callie seems pretty open to the idea of us having a baby," she points out as she settles onto the sofa next to Rachel, who is currently lounging in the corner, completely relaxed.
Rachel smiles wryly. "Because her only real exposure to babies is Max, and she was barely two when he was born." Calliope might very well change her opinion after Santana and Teresa's baby is born and she realizes how much they cry and sleep and poop.
"Still, the seed has been planted...so to speak," Quinn jokes, inching closer to Rachel with a teasing smile. "It's just waiting for that discussion you promised we'd have after you wrapped your show." She feigns delighted surprise. "And look at that...you have."
Rachel laughs, fully conceding the point. "Yeah, I have."
Quinn turns into Rachel's body, draping her right calf over Rachel's knee, and Rachel lifts her arm to give her wife room, letting it rest across Quinn's shoulder with a content sigh. "You know," Quinn drawls, idly tracing a finger over Rachel's cotton-clad stomach, "if we call the clinic now, there's a chance I could be giving birth to our second child not long after Teresa."
And okay—there are definitely butterflies dancing around in her belly at the thought of that (and not just from Quinn's teasing touch), but, "Quinn, baby. Do you really want to go through another pregnancy?"
The hand on Rachel's stomach stills. "I want another baby with you."
"That wasn't what I asked."
Quinn sits back, frowning. "I thought we were both thinking about having another child?"
"We are," Rachel promises. She's been thinking about it quite a lot. "But, Quinn. I...I've also been thinking that...well," she pauses, licking her lips nervously—because this is it. Once she gives voice to her growing desire, there will be no going back. "Maybe I want to be the one to carry this one."
Hazel eyes widen, and pink lips part on a breathless gasp, shortly followed by a stunned, "Really?"
"Yes, really. Why do you look so surprised?"
Quinn shakes her head in wonder, still looking flabbergasted. "I just thought...with your career…"
"I overextended. I know that," Rachel admits ruefully. "But I'm already clearing my schedule for the fall so I can be more focused on our family." A fact that Quinn is already very aware of, and the impending arrival of Santana and Teresa's baby is just another reason for Rachel to make sure she has more time at home.
Quinn's hand curves around her hip, and she smiles tenderly. "You don't need to get pregnant to do that."
"I want to. I do," Rachel vows, hearing the words fall between them and feeling the truth of them deep in her heart. "I'm not exactly ready to call the clinic tomorrow," she warns, wanting Quinn to understand that this won't be happening right away. "I was thinking maybe closer to September, but Quinn, I want to have your baby."
"Oh...wow," Quinn breathes out, looking stunned all over again. "That's…wow," she repeats, her gaze faraway.
The stunning smile that Rachel had been expecting is noticeably absent. "Do you...not want me to?" she asks hesitantly.
Quinn's eyes fly to hers. "Are you kidding me?" She raises her hand to Rachel's cheek. "The thought of you pregnant with our baby," she trails off with a dreamy expression and that faraway look in her eyes again. "You'd make me so incredibly happy, Rach."
Rachel feels the truth of that too. The love on Quinn's face, the light in her eyes, and the reverence of her voice are more than enough to let Rachel know just how much her wife wants this. She covers Quinn's hand with her own, turning her head to press a kiss to her palm before bringing their joined hands down over her heart. "Then we're agreed?"
That stunning smile erupts on Quinn's lips before she attempts to bite it back, clearly trying to rein in her happiness. "Are you really sure about this, Rachel? I mean, you were kind of squeamish about the whole labor thing when we had Callie."
Leave it to her lovely wife to bring up the one little thing that Rachel isn't actually certain about, but she refuses to admit that to Quinn, who'd gone through labor twice with no—well, very few—complaints. "I'm sure," she fibs, certain that it will prove to be meaningless in the grand scheme of things. "I can handle a little pain."
Quinn looks doubtful. "Rachel..."
"Don't tell me that it's more than a little pain, Quinn," she quickly interrupts, knowing exactly what her wife had been about to say. "Believe me, I already know that. I'm merely choosing not to dwell on it. Just like I'm choosing not to dwell on the hellish drug regime I'll need to endure again." That, at least, she's prepared for, knowing exactly what she can expect this time around. She'd survived it once. She can do it again.
"Well, you wouldn't necessarily need to," Quinn points out, squeezing Rachel's hand in support. "I know we still have the embryos, but we also have some of Steven's little swimmers banked. We could try insemination instead. I think that's pretty much drug free...unless there's a problem," she reluctantly adds.
Rachel finds it kind of sweet that Quinn would suggest that in order to save her some discomfort, but she also finds it somewhat ironic, since when Rachel had suggested the same method four years ago, Quinn had been unwavering in her intent to pursue the reciprocal IVF.
"Did you miss the part where I said I want to have your baby?" She watches two tawny eyebrows furrow adorably. "You were so adamant about sharing the pregnancy with Calliope, and while we both know that I wasn't initially convinced it was necessary," she reminisces, smiling softly, "I wouldn't change the way we brought her into the world for anything. So...I'd like to use your egg this time."
Really, Rachel thinks she might be setting some kind of record for the number of times she can stun her wife in one conversation. "You want my baby," Quinn practically whispers, voice quivering and eyes sparkling with moisture.
"Am I not making that clear?" Rachel wonders, searching her wife's awestruck face. Quinn opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out, and then she closes her eyes and turns her face into Rachel's throat. There's a shuddering breath and a trace of warm moisture against Rachel's skin. Confused, and maybe a little concerned, she rubs her hand over Quinn's shoulder. "Quinn? Baby?"
Quinn's hand tightens on hers the instant before her head jerks up, eyes flashing with fierce adoration—and something else that's bordering on predatory. If that particular look wasn't enough to leave Rachel breathless, then having her gorgeous wife straddle her in the next instant definitely would. "Do you know how incredibly in love with you I am?"
Rachel allows a slow smile to blossom on her lips as she gazes up at the goddess currently in her lap, hands coming to rest on her wife's shapely hips. "I think I have some small inkling, yes."
"Multiply it by infinity, and you still wouldn't come close," Quinn says shakily, bending down to brush her lips over Rachel's in a feather-light kiss. "You just agreed to carry my baby, Rachel." There's so much emotion in her voice that Rachel can nearly taste it in the air between them. "I can't even begin to tell you how I'm feeling right now."
Quinn doesn't need to tell her. Rachel had lived it. She knows exactly how humbling and thrilling (and arousing) it is to have the woman you love want to give you a child. Reaching up to gently brush her thumb across Quinn's damp cheek, she smiles and offers her wife the simplest means of expression. "Then show me."
So Quinn does, and it's beautiful—just like their growing family will be.