SANTANA

Quinn's birthday is in a couple of days and then we're off to Nationals with the Cheerios. I'm out with my mom shopping for a gift for Q, who is hanging out with Brittany for the day. I know what I want to get her and don't waste any time, walking purposefully to the jewelry store.

"Whoa, Santanita, a little early on for jewelry, no?" Mom teases me.

"First of all, you know that I've been in love with this girl for over a year, so no, it's not "too early" for jewelry, really. And secondly, on the night Quinn went to the hospital I broke her necklace and I'd like to get her a new one."

Having my mom to talk to about my relationship with Quinn is awesome. Both of my parents have been amazing about this whole thing, they've just accepted that Quinn and I are in legitimate relationship as if it's the most normal thing in the world. We even got the lecture about having "relations" at appropriate times after my mom walked into the kitchen and saw me and Quinn making out pretty heavily.

"Dios mío, girls!" my mom had said, covering her eyes.

I'd jumped back from Quinn, who was sitting on the counter.

"You have TWO bedrooms to do that in, could we not do that in the kitchen?"

Quinn and I had immediately apologized and my mom had smiled at us broadly, looking kind of smug.

"What's so funny, Mom?"

"I just won a bet with your father. He didn't think we'd catch you in flagrante delicto for at least two months and I said two weeks, tops."

"Why did you break her necklace?" My mom brings me back from my thoughts.

"I was watching her struggle to breathe and I saw her chain with her cross on it, and I just…I got upset and I pulled it off her neck. I wanted to throw it. Instead, I wrapped it around my fingers and held her hand and prayed like all hell."

Mom nods with a contemplative look on her face.

"Are you mad at God, Santana?"

I'm taken aback by the question, uncertain how to answer. I guess I'm confused about my feelings towards God. And I'm not really sure why my mother is asking me this. I shrug.

"Not particularly, why?"

"Well, you said you wanted to throw the cross because you were upset."

Mom's voice is steady. She's not troubled, but I still can't get a good read on why this matters to her so much. I keep searching for the right chain for Q's cross as I contemplate my response.

"I mean, I thought Quinn was like, dying, right in front of me. I guess I knew deep down that passing out would be the best thing for her because she'd be able to breathe again, but it's still scary to watch, ya know? I'd just gotten her back, I couldn't imagine losing her. And Quinn, she believes. She really believes and is full of this faith that I actually kind of admire. I don't know, Mom. I love her so much. It's hard to watch her go through all of this and be so lost when she's such a better person than I am. So when I saw the chain on her neck I just felt like…I don't know. Like, 'where areYou?' But I didn't throw the cross, I asked for help. And then I felt like my prayers were useless. So, to actually answer your question, I don't know. I'm not angry with God. But I do struggle with whether He exists at all."

Well shit. Didn't mean to say all that.

I turn my eyes back to my mother, worried that I'll see disappointment in her eyes. It's one thing to accept my orientation, it's another to accept that I'm borderline rejecting the religion I've been raised in.

I get another contemplative nod.

"What about this one, mija?"

She points to a thin gold chain in the display.

"That actually looks perfect."

Mom gets the attention of the salesman and buys the chain for me. We're back out into the mall, walking slowly together.

"Are you mad, Mom?

"No, Santana, I'm not mad. Being a parent is a difficult thing, because sometimes you have to watch your child struggle, and trust me, that is the hardest thing you will ever do. There's this instinctual desire to fix every problem for your baby, even though it's not possible."

She stops at a bench and sits down, patting the bench next to her. I sit and wait for her to continue.

"Your faith is your faith, Santana. I just don't want you to feel like you have to reject God because you are gay. I know what the Church teaches, and I obviously disagree vehemently. God made you as you are, and you are as perfect as any other child of His. I believe, very strongly, that there is more to this world than just people crashing into each other by chance. But no matter what you believe, you will always be my baby. I just want you to know that I'm here for you to talk to. You try so hard to stand on your own feet and be independent, and I'm very proud of you for that, but please just always know that nothing you ever say will make me turn my back on you, okay?"

All I can do is nod, my throat tight with the tears I feel threatening. Mom loops her arm over my shoulders and pulls me close, kissing the side of my head. I give her a little half smile and we get up to start walking again.

We're almost to the car when we run into one of the many members of my father's extended family that live around Lima. I don't even know half of them. My mother exchanges pleasantries and I smile politely before grabbing my mom's keys and heading to the car.

When my mom climbs in the car she sighs.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Your cousin, Rosa. She's out of juvenile hall again."

"Uggghhh! I hate that bitch!" I can't control my immediate reaction.

"Santana," my mother says sternly, "do not be getting into any fights with her this time. I'm serious. I know she pushes your buttons for whatever reason, but she is not worth you getting into trouble. She just wants to drag you down with her."

"Mom, I don't choose to fight her, she always forces the issue."

"Look at me, Santana. Ninguna lucha, verdad? No fighting. Protect yourself if need be, but just stay away from her and don't let her bait you. Am I clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," I snark.

"And don't be a smart ass," my mom says, giving me a smile.

"Yes, ma'am."

My mother rolls her eyes and starts the drive home.

QUINN

I'm spending the day with Brittany and it has been hilariously awesome so far. We've never really had a chance to hang out without Santana, but I realize quickly why she and San are so close. Britt has a really interesting way of looking at things, it's like having a 4th dimension in a 3-D world. She sees this other level that most people would never consider.

"So, Quinnie the Pooh, I think I'm all shopped out. I think we can rule out any outdoor activities for the rest of the day, because it is way too cold for your baby to be outside. So we've got a few choice options. We can go see a movie, we can go home and watch a movie, or we can talk about your sex life with Santana. Personally, I'm up for anything. Your choice."

I laugh out loud at her third option and cover my face with my hand in mock embarrassment. We're leisurely walking to Brittany's car.

"Santana would kill me if I sat here and talked about our sexual activities, Britt."

"Well, Sanny isn't here, and I'm just kidding anyway. We can talk about your actual relationship if you want. I know it's got to be hard not being able to talk about it ever."

She has a point there, sometimes the hardest part of our relationship is not being able to talk about this amazing girl that I get to call my own. Santana does the most incredible, sweetest things. I want to brag about how great she is all the time.

"What do you wanna know?" I ask.

"Whatever you want to tell me. When did you know that you loved her?"

"I knew I loved her back before freshman year, the day she told me her middle name. I knew I was in love with her instant I kissed her on her birthday. Now can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!" Brittany responds brightly.

"Why did you kiss her that night?" I ask slowly.

Britt looks at me, surprised. She turns her eyes away from me when she responds.

"How did you know I kissed her?"

"I saw you two in her room."

"Is that why you got so upset at her that night?"

I look at my tall blonde friend. She's being evasive, in a way I've never seen her act before.

"Yes," I tell her honestly, "I didn't know how to react to it because I didn't understand my own feelings for Santana yet."

Brittany nods, still quiet for a moment.

"I…liked her. Santana is like…a love ninja. She can make you fall in love with her 1000 different ways before you ever see her coming. I knew she loved you, but I wasn't sure you'd ever feel the same way, and I thought maybe I could get her to like me back. By the time Santana got back from chasing you down, though, I knew it was a lost cause. At that point I tried to just be her friend and eventually things kind of just happened between us."

I feel Britt's eyes on me, studying my reaction to her admission. I give her a slow nod as I think it over.

"I can understand that. I obviously know how easy it is to fall in love with her."

Brittany smiles at that.

"Yes, you certainly do. I gotta say though, I understand why she fell for you so quickly."

I give her a sideways look and a humorless laugh.

"I'm glad you get it, because I sure don't. Santana deserves to be sainted for taking me on, for taking all of this on. She's 15 and her girlfriend is pregnant with her ex-boyfriend's baby. I can't understand for one moment why she ever let me back in her life."

"She's been in love with you for a lot longer than all of this has been going on, Quinn. I can't really imagine a scenario in which she wouldn't have taken you back. Everything she has done since the beginning has been a result of how much she loves you, especially since July. Everything she has done since her birthday has been driven by you."

I consider this, and realize Britt probably has the answers to a lot of questions I've had.

"Interesting you should say that. Santana once told me she tried to protect me without me knowing. Do you know what she was referring to?"

We make it to Brittany's car and she opens the doors for us to get in.

"I know some of it," she says as she starts the car.

I wait for her to continue, but she doesn't.

"Can you tell me?"

"Have you asked Santana to tell you?" Brittany answers my question with a question.

I am quiet. I haven't asked San, because part of me is afraid to ask her. I don't know why. Maybe because I'm afraid to know the lengths to which Santana went for me while I refused to acknowledge her existence.

"I haven't, no."

"She might be the one to ask, then. I can tell you that even as she kept you at arm's length, Santana was using her other arm to protect you from everyone else."

I mull that over for a bit. I decide to tell Britt the truth.

"I'm kind of afraid to ask her. I don't know exactly why though."

"Can I ask you something? I mean, of course I can. I'll just ask. Why did you sleep with Puck?"

Something about Brittany's tone of voice pulls me up. Almost like she knows why I slept with Puck.

"Why do you think?" I ask her in return.

"I thought so. And I think that's why you're so afraid. But you should talk to Santana about this, really. It might be a little hard for you guys to get through that conversation, but you'll get there. You're both like CB trucker radios, you've gotta keep messing with the channels until you can hear and understand each other. You guys always find the right channel eventually though."

I smile and shake my head.

"Yeah, we do."

SANTANA

We're having a family dinner for Quinn's birthday. Mom and I made dinner and Dad picked up an ice cream cake. I have Q's wrapped gift sitting on the counter next to a gift from my parents. I managed to find her broken chain and cross so that her wrapped jewelry box contains her complete necklace. It actually wasn't that difficult at all to find since Quinn is probably the neatest human being on earth. She's like allergic to messes or something.

"Who's ready for cake?" Mom asks excitedly. Clearly, she's ready.

We all raise our hands like over anxious schoolchildren and Mom laughs as she gets up to get the cake from the freezer. My dad follows after her to bring Q's gifts in to the dining room. While we have a second alone I pick up Quinn's hand and kiss the back of it gently.

"Happy 16th Birthday, Quinn."

I get a big smile in return and a slight squeeze of my hand.

"Thanks, love. Best birthday ever."

My parents come in and start singing "Happy Birthday." In true Lopez fashion, we intentionally butcher the song. We sing completely different verses, we sing in English and Spanish, we draw out the song as long as possible. Quinn's laugh is so adorable.

We applaud ourselves and Q joins in enthusiastically. Mom gives us all slices of cake and we dive in as if we'll never see ice cream again.

"So Quinn, how does it feel to be 16?" My dad asks literally the most overused birthday question of all time.

I roll my eyes, but Quinn smiles.

"Great actually, because now I'm officially allowed to drive by myself. Unlike some people who have to wait another 6 months."

"Low blow, Fabray! Are pregnant girls even allowed to drive?" I snark back at her.

"Santana!" Mom looks at me disapprovingly.

"No! I didn't mean it like that! Quinn, I didn't mean it like that," I say, turning to my girlfriend.

"I know, love," she responds, giving me a little smile.

"Still, be nice Santana," my mother orders.

"God, Mom. I wasn't being a jerk. I'm actually concerned. Dora prob—the baby probably wouldn't do well if an airbag deployed or something."

Quinn looks up at me. We've kept our nickname for our little kicker between us. Not because it was a secret really, but because it was just something with us.

"Did you just call the baby Dora?" Mom's mouth is actually hanging open. She glances at my father, who is still stuffing his face with cake but stops when my mom's eyes meet his.

"Um, yeah." I say lamely.

"Like…Dora the Explorer?" The horror in my mother's voice is evident, and I almost laugh at loud.

"No! Jeez, why would you assume that? Like, pateadora. She's a little kicker."

It seems obvious to me, but even Quinn has a little playful smile on her face.

"Aw honey, that's cute," Mom says in a sweet voice before adding, very seriously, "but you can't call that baby Dora. That's legitimately awful and just invites terrible comparisons."

I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of my head.

"We weren't going to name her that. It's just a nickname so that we don't have to call her "the baby" or "she" or—earmuffs Quinn—"that thing from Alien that comes bursting out of the dude's chest."

"Excuse me? When exactly have you called my baby the monster from Alien?" Quinn looks incredulous.

"Pretty much every single time Dora came up in conversation prior to you and me making up. Either that or "demon spawn," "the kid from the Omen," "Rosemary's baby," and, my personal favorite, simply "It."

Quinn's eyes are closed and I can see her shoulders shake with laughter as she slowly shakes her head. My parents look at me in mock disapproval and roll their eyes. I shrug my shoulders.

"Okay, Dora is better than all of those names, but it's still gotta go, mija. That little cartooned walking stereotype cannot share a name with the beautiful little girl hanging out with Quinn for the next 4 months."

I sigh heavily. I'm going to lose this battle.

"Fine, Mom. What do you think we should call her?"

"I think you should call her Diabla Junior…DJ," my father interjects between bites of what must be his 3rd piece of cake.

"Dad, cake much?" I ask in horror.

"It's melting!" Dad protests.

"That's perfect!" Quinn and my mom yell together.

I look at them in confusion.

"What is?"

"DJ! Diabla Junior!" Q exclaims. "Sheer genius, Papa Lopez."

"Happy to be of service, favorite daughter," Dad replies to Quinn while looking at me smugly.

My mother laughs and claps her hands at the look on my face.

Are these people serious?

"Quinn, you're not seriously going to call her DJ, are you? Remember how hard it was to get me to admit to my middle name?"

Q gives me a little mocking pout, then gets up and moves behind me, her arms wrapping loosely around my neck in a gentle hug.

"Honestly, Diabla Senior, I don't see why. It's so…fitting." Quinn plops a big wet kiss on my cheek and laughs. "Besides, San, it's just a placeholder name, remember?"

I can't help but smile. I might not love having my nickname so completely shot down, but I do love having the little kicker named after me. She's not mine, but she is.

Oh how I love that little girl.

QUINN

"Thank you for my present, love. It feels good to have my cross around my neck again."

"Yeah well, had I known my parents were going to give you a Jeep, I probably would have gone for something much bigger," Santana grumbles.

"San…stop. They didn't outdo your gift, although I obviously love the Jeep. I know you have doubts about God and all that, so it means a lot to me that you still support my beliefs. Everything you do means a little bit more to me just because it's you. So stop being a baby and come cuddle me and little DJ."

Santana rolls her eyes but complies, climbing in behind me and wrapping her arm around to place her hand on my stomach.

"Is she busy tonight?" San asks into my hair.

"She's been rolling around a bit."

I pick up Santana's hand and move it to where I think DJ's feet are.

"I'd be rolling around too if I found out my mom just got a bad ass Jeep to roll around town in."

"For crying out loud Santana! Stop. Honestly, the first thing I thought of when they showed me the damn thing was 'I can't wait to get Santana into the back seat of this thing.' So I promise you, this will be good for both of us."

Santana is quiet for a few moments save for her steady breathing.

"Just…wanky."

I can't help but snicker at that, then turn to give my hilarious girlfriend a good night kiss.

"Good night, pretty lady," Santana says when I roll back over.

"Good night, love," I respond.

I start to doze off in my favorite comforting embrace when I hear Santana whisper into the darkness.

"Good night, DJ."

I fall asleep with a smile on my face.