A/N: I just want to say thank you to everyone chose to follow or favorite this story, and especially to those who review. I honestly never anticipated writing 20 chapters as quickly as I have. I hope you enjoy this one!

SANTANA

It's Christmas morning and I'm lying with Quinn in my arms. We're wearing matching pajamas, at my mother's insistence, and I smile at the cuteness that is Quinn wearing reindeer-covered footie pajamas. She's legitimately precious.

As an only child, my Christmases have always centered on me. When I was little I would tear through the house screaming about Santa bringing me "all of the presents." I had no idea that we were dirt poor and that other kids had a whole shit ton more under their trees. My parents didn't exchange gifts until I was like 10 years old because there was no extra money after getting me a couple of special items. It actually took me that long to realize they were unwrapping stuff we already had on Christmas morning. I give my parents a lot of credit for everything they did to make sure I didn't go without, but also that I wasn't attached to the monetary gifts of Christmas.

My favorite tradition, hands down, is that I usually sleep in my parents' bed on Christmas Eve. Every year for as long as I can remember, I'd cuddle in between them and we'd just talk until I fell asleep. Four people is a little much to sleep comfortably, but I wasn't about to give up my tradition, so last night we'd all climbed into bed and watched TV, laughing and joking until it got late. Quinn had already fallen asleep, so my dad picked her up gently and carried her to my room. Mom gave me a squeeze and a kiss on the forehead before sending me after her. Our little quad has become a tightknit family and I'm overwhelmed with happiness just thinking about it.

I look at the clock and realize my parents will be getting up soon to start making coffee and whatnot. I need a few moments alone with Quinn before Christmas really starts.

"Baby girl," I whisper in her ear, "wake up. Come on, pretty lady."

Quinn stirs and smiles before opening her eyes.

"There she is!" I say brightly, giving her a big smile.

"Morning, love." Quinn mumbles.

"Santana Claus has something for you. Do you think you can wake up enough to open a gift?"

Quinn pops up comically, her eyes wide.

"Yes! I want to give you your gift, too."

"Okay, but me first," I demand before hopping up to grab her gift out of my closet.

I put it on the bed in front of her and hold my breath nervously as I watch my pretty blonde girlfriend tear open the wrapping. She freezes when she's got it open and looks at me before picking up the framed 3D ultrasound picture from the night she went to the hospital.

"Open the back," I tell her quietly.

She does as I say and pulls out a single folded piece of paper and a picture that are tucked behind the ultrasound. She studies the picture first, a little smile on her lips.

Brittany took it on one of our goofy days hanging out downstairs in the living room. In it, Quinn and I are laughing. I'm standing behind her, with my hand protectively palming her little bump. Quinn's hand covers mine and she's leaning back against me, her head angled so that she can see my face. As soon as Britt snapped it, we'd looked up and smiled at her, and she'd taken another picture. There are a whole bunch of pictures from that day, but this one is far and away my favorite.

Quinn leans forward and gives me a little kiss before unfolding the small piece of paper in her hands.

Quinn,

Being with you for this ultrasound was possibly one of the most powerful experiences of my life. Until that night, I resented our little kicker for "ruining" your life. But the minute I saw her—Quinn, that moment will stay with me forever. I love her as deeply as I've ever loved anything. Whatever you choose to do, I will support you in any way I can. Just know that, no matter what, you've created something beautiful and perfect, and I couldn't be more proud of you for how brave you've been.

That picture of us is one of my favorites. Being with you makes me happier than I could have ever imagined. I know we've got a lot ahead of us, but I believe in us. Someday that'll be on a shelf in the open where it belongs.

And the onesie is for, you know, just in case.

Merry Christmas.

Love you,

Santana

Quinn looks at me quizzically, then looks back in the box. She pulls out a little baby onesie and unfolds it. I watch her face as she reads it out loud.

"If you think I'm cute, you should see my moms."

She laughs and shakes her head before leaning forward to kiss me once again.

"This is all so perfect, Santana. Thank you," Quinn's eyebrows shoot up in excitement, "My turn!"

She grabs a box from under my bed.

"Really? You hid this in here?" I'm incredulous.

"Have you looked under your bed lately? No chance you were going to find it." Quinn retorts. I shrug my shoulders at her with a laugh.

"Good point."

"Just so you know, you can't exactly keep this gift just yet, okay?"

My eyebrows come together in confusion, but I nod anyway before slowly opening the box, grinning at Quinn's giddiness. Inside I find a sketchbook. I open it and gasp at what I see. Almost every page is filled with hand drawn portraits of me. I look more carefully and notice that interspersed between her drawings of me, Quinn has recreated big moments for us in her drawings as well, adding quotes alongside a lot of the images.

There is a drawing of our first kiss on my birthday with a note written neatly that reads "If Only"

There's one of her holding a washcloth to my face. "I Had Realized"

A perfect recreation of our soft kiss the night we made up. "That You"

Quinn and I lying on the bed, her letter in my hand. "Were Always"

Me carrying Quinn up the stairs on my back. "Really"

I'm holding out a cellphone with a text from Finn on it. "The Only"

We're lying together naked, limbs tangled together. "Choice"

Quinn and I kneeling on her bed after our first real fight. "For"

We're lying in bed, my hand on her stomach. "Me."

I'm struck speechless for a few moments. My fingertips toy with the paper as I stare at the beautiful moment on the page before me. My heart feels so full that it actually hurts.

"This is amazing, Quinn. I mean, I knew you could draw, but…this is so good. Why haven't you shown me anything like this before?"

"Well, I used to doodle things when I was younger, but when I became Quinn I kind of stopped. I didn't want to seem like a weird, artsy kid I guess…"We both roll our eyes at that nugget of silliness, "…but after our kiss in July, drawing became a big outlet for me. There are some seriously depressing drawings from back then, but most of it I would draw and then destroy so that my parents wouldn't see. It would have been pretty clear that I was in love with you. I drew your face from memory, over and over. Then when things started happening between us, I started drawing you pretty much every day. It is an outlet for how overwhelmed I am by you."

Quinn shrugs her shoulders as if it's no big deal that she draws me every day and has for quite some time. I, on the other hand, am completely fixated on this information. I've never even seen this sketchbook before. How did she hide this from me when we spend so much time together? I realize that it doesn't matter. What matters is that she draws my face from memory.

"Overwhelmed by me?"

Quinn tilts her head to the side as she gazes at me, her expression indicating that I'm being extremely obtuse.

"Yes, Santana. You overwhelm me. You're kind of my everything, if you haven't noticed. When I'm not talking to you or touching you or looking at you, I'm thinking about doing those things. It's still scary, you know. Sometimes it feels like I love you too much for my own good. But—I can't change it, wouldn't want to if I could. Mostly I just want to be as good to you as you are to me."

I reach out and pull her hands into mine, running my thumbs over her knuckles. I know exactly how she feels, but I can't exactly just say "ditto" and call it even.

"Trust me, I understand perfectly. I've felt that way for a long time, it's just hard to imagine you feel that way about me. But this, Quinn," I hold up the sketch book, "this is so perfect and so touching and so amazing. Thank you, I love it."

"Look in the box again, doofus, there's more."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. More than this?

I reach into the box and pull out a plain black frame holding a perfectly centered piece of paper between two panes of glass. It's Quinn's letter to me that I told her I wanted to frame as a memento. Q reaches out and turns the frame over. She's used a fine point paint marker to write the date of our first night together at the top, our initials on the sides, and a quote at the bottom.

November 14, 2009

"A Thousand Times Over"

I'm speechless yet again. I wish I could just hang this on my wall, but right now I'm satisfied just because it exists. This thing between us is real, and I LOVE this girl. I shake my head and look at her with teary eyes.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice thick.

Quinn smiles and leans in to give me a long, unhurried kiss. I take a deep breath when we break apart and look up into her gorgeous green eyes.

"Ready to go downstairs and see what the real Santa brought us?" I ask her with a big smile.

Hours later, after all of the gifts are opened and brunch has been eaten, my mom insists Quinn and I get up from our very comfortable positions on the couch to take a family picture.

Dad sets up the tripod and the camera while Mom fixes up the tree behind us and tell me to zip my pajamas up because, and I quote, "no one wants to see my snow globes in a family photo."

Quinn laughs hysterically at that and gives my mom a little high five.

"Mom! They aren't even showing, you're just being crass. Besides, it's really hot in here," I whine at her with a pout.

"Okay, everyone get ready, I'm hitting the timer!" Dad looks at us to make sure we're ready before pushing the button and hopping around the camera to get into position.

The camera snaps before he even turns back around and I laugh. False start #1.

After two more failures, Quinn offers to just take the picture of the three of us.

"What's the point of taking a family picture if the whole family isn't in it? Don't be silly, Quinn." Mom gives a dismissive wave of her hand as she responds. Dad finally gets the camera set again.

"Ready?"

"We've been ready," I tell him.

"Okay, here we go."

He gets in position next to me. My parents are flanking Quinn and me, our arms around each other, linking the four of us together. Just before the photo snaps I feel Q give me a little squeeze and I grin a bit more broadly.

We crowd around my dad to look at the tiny screen on the back of the camera.

"I might be biased, but that is one damn good looking family," Mom states with a big smile.

QUINN

The Lopez trio and I are lying on couches and chairs, lounging as we watch the 23rd consecutive hour of A Christmas Story on TBS. Santana has her head on her mom's lap and her feet on mine. She's looking at the ends of her hair and occasionally mouthing the words to the movie she's had memorized for years. She catches my eye and gives me a little wink and a smile, her eyes flickering up to her mother to see if she saw. Mrs. L looks absorbed in whatever book she's holding, her other hand absentmindedly scratching Santana's head. I'm pretty sure Santana is on the verge of purring based on the way she leans her head into the touch.

As the movie comes to an end, I see my surrogate parents exchange a meaningful glance and a nod. I narrow my eyes as I watch them, something is definitely up.

Mrs. L picks up San's head and moves it off of her lap before she gets up to go sit on the arm of the chair her husband is occupying. Santana doesn't seem bothered by the change, she just gathers her hair to the side and then laces her fingers behind her head, completely oblivious to whatever is developing with her parents. I flick her foot as hard as I can and she looks down her body at me with a curious expression on her face. I incline my head in the direction of her parents slightly, throwing my eyes in their direction and raising my eyebrow a tiny bit.

Santana tilts her head back and turns it to be able to see her parents sitting together. I see a frown flash across her features, and she pulls herself up to a seated position.

Mr. Lopez clears his throat.

"We, uh, we wanted to talk to you girls about something. We've been trying to decide when a, um…appropriate…time might be, but we ended up feeling like we should just come out with it instead of making it a whole big production."

"Kinda failing on that one, Dad. You're totally freaking me out," Santana says with an uncomfortable smile.

"Good point," he says, looking to his wife for help.

"What your dad is trying to say, uncharacteristically awkwardly, I might add, is that we wanted this conversation to happen of its own accord, without anyone forcing the issue. But we feel that it would do us all a lot of good to just get this out there, and we figured this could be a sort of Christmas present from us to you two."

In the slight pause that comes next, Santana and I exchange a loaded glance. Our eyes and expressions could not say OH FUCK any more clearly.

"Girls, we know that you're in love with each other. It's been pretty clear to us for quite some time now. We just want you to know that you don't have to try to hide that from us anymore. I cannot even begin to express to either of you how very much we love you both. It doesn't matter to us who you love, as long as you're happy and treated well, and I know that you two will take care of each other through thick and thin. So please don't feel like you have to hide your love for each other, at least not in this house, okay?"

Mr. Lopez has been emphatically nodding along with his wife's words, looking between San and me.

For our part, the two of us are frozen in shock. When I can think at all I turn my eyes towards Santana. She's leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, looking at her hands. I see the tears start falling from her face, but she doesn't move. Her reaction freezes me once again, I want to reach for her but don't know if that's too much, too soon.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen. I couldn't help it," she chokes out, clearly overwhelmed.

Mrs. L is on her feet in a second, kneeling in front of her daughter, cupping her face gently with both hands. Mr. Lopez gets up to sit next to Santana and wrap his arm around her.

"Oh honey, no. Don't be sorry. I'm sorry that you feel like you need to apologize. You haven't done anything wrong. I've known you are gay for a long time, Santana, and I knew you fell for Quinn the first time you brought her home. We love you. No matter what."

Santana starts sobbing at that and falls into her mother's arms. I'm crying, but I'm still pinned to the couch, stunned by the events that have unfolded. I feel an inexplicable sense of shame, not because of what we've been doing, but because we've been lying.

Mrs. L puts an arm out towards me and waves me over to join the hug. I slide over next to Santana and she lifts her arm to fold me in next to her. We all hold each other until Santana and I finally stop crying. We all plop back on the couch, tired from all the tears. Mr. and Mrs. L lean against one another, and Santana and I tentatively link our hands together.

Santana sniffs and lets out a breathy little laugh.

"What's so funny, mija?"

She tilts her head in my direction.

"I mean, who wouldn't go gay for this one?"