A/N: This was a collaborative work with my dear friend, Cait, who also writes beautiful fanfiction as ckeller48. Go read her stories and follow her on tumblr - you won't be disappointed! I couldn't have done this without her, and I'm very grateful and flattered that she agreed to work with me on this.

Enjoy!

all I know is a new found grace

all my days, I'll know your face

all I know since yesterday is everything has changed

Brittany won the lottery.

No, really. She won the lottery.

She got the numbers from Lord Tubbington, and she tells everyone that. Really, if a cat could legally inherit a billion dollars, he'd be the richest cat in the world.

With Brittany as his human, though, he still does pretty well.

She isn't shy about it – she went a little crazy at first. She spent millions of dollars on things that she can't even remember now; she sort of, hazily, recalls a pool filled with strawberry jello, and attempting to hire Aerosmith to sing at a party once. Those first few years burned her out pretty quickly, and she bought houses in Bel Aire and Manhattan just to throw parties in them once and never come back again. Frivolous is an understatement for her behavior.

Her sister – old enough, by this time, to be someone Brittany could take at least half-seriously – shook some sense into her when she was edging in on her twenty-eighth birthday. "Stop spending your money, Brittany. You're going to go broke."

"No way," Brittany was really tan, back then, from commuting to Bermuda every other weekend. "I have like, a billion dollars. I'm set for life."

"Not the way you're going, you're not," Audrey said. She has darker hair, like Brittany's father, and she always reminds Brittany of their stern grandmother on the Pierce side. "You've blown through half of it already."

Brittany almost choked. "Half? Half? How?"

Audrey rolled her eyes. She had a bang cut that wasn't flattering, but Brittany had spent so much of their childhood tormenting Audrey that she tried to make up for it by not being so honest now. Sometimes it was really hard. Like when Audrey was glaring at her with her gray-green eyes and giving her the 'you're-so-irresponsible' look.

"I don't want to recount your reckless spending, but just trust me. In less than five years, you've spent.. an unholy amount of money. You need to invest," Audrey held up a hand, palm outward, to halt Brittany's flood of words. "You need to buy stocks and real estate and, I don't know, make yourself a budget. Sell some of your cars and houses, stop visiting Tahiti so often. You're insane, Brittany, and not in the normal way."

Brittany spent time thinking about it, and she realized that Audrey was right.

"And go back to school," Audrey looked mildly exasperated with Brittany. "You're too smart to be living like this."

Brittany, then, as always, had a flush of warmth for her baby sister – the one who never saw Brittany as anything less than a genius, or anything more than her goofy, whimsical self – and she took her advice.

Brittany went to hire a financial advisor from the most reputable and prestigious companies in the nation, and that's when she ran into Mike Chang.

He was a junior partner at the time, and although Brittany certainly had enough money to be handled by one of the more elite members of Chase, Chang, & Blackstock Financial Services, they felt she would do better with someone her own age. It was just a happy coincidence that they were old high school friends, who danced and sang together through countless glee club meetings and competitions.

"It's so good to see you!" Mike was taller, now, and just as slim as he was as a teenager – but Brittany could tell he didn't dance much, anymore. It was in the way he moved, with less natural grace; and Brittany was sad, suddenly, to be around her old friend, who was so different, now, almost a decade later. "How have you been?"

Brittany shrugged. "Rich. Spending my money. I need some help."

Mike smiled, and it was the same old Mike smile from before. "You came to the right place."

Brittany signed a lot of papers, and she told Mike about her life since high school. There wasn't a lot to tell – she didn't do much after she graduated. Took a few semesters at the community college and then dropped out when she got too bored. She spent the next few years doing a whopping nothing – she spent a summer in Europe because her grandparents indulged her – but she was living in her old bedroom at her parents' house when she picked up that Powerball ticket.

Mike's story was equally short, and just as sad, and it made Brittany realize that the idealism they all possessed as children was a myth. Brittany thinks fondly of Mr. Schue and the choir room, but in that moment she was a little bit bitter – she had been promised that her dreams would come true. And though she will never have to worry about money for herself or her family, she isn't – well, she isn't particularly happy, is she?

Mike had launched his career in professional dancing, and for a few years, he did well. Then he fell and badly hurt his back – another reason why his movements were slow and stilted – and he was out of work, and under-qualified for any kind of other profession. His father helped him take the right fast-track courses so he could join with their financial advisory company, and, well, here he is.

Brittany smiled briefly. "Do you ever hear from Tina?"

Mike looked at her, and then shook his head. He wore his hair flat, now, and Brittany missed the days of his gelled up 'do. "Last I heard, she'd been cast in a Broadway play."

"Really?" Brittany's entire chest filled with warmth. "Good for her. Good for Tina."

Mike's smile was more reserved, but he nodded.

"What about Santana?"

Brittany didn't feel anything, any more, when she heard Santana's name. "What about her?"

"Have you kept in touch?"

"No."

Mike looked like he wanted to ask questions, but he didn't.

Brittany sighed. "She produces music now. She got hired on with a record label. She loves it."

Mike's eyes widened. "Well.. that's incredible."

"We're still Facebook friends. So I know stuff sometimes."

Brittany was relieved when he didn't ask any more questions about Santana. It's just – yes, Brittany cares about Santana, and she always will; they shared more than just a childhood, and Brittany's heart will never forget that – but she's been dealing with questions about Santana almost incessantly over the last decade, and she's tired of them.

By the end of the evening, Brittany had a monthly allowance – for spending. Mike had already taken care of expenses such as food, clothing, housing, and transportation. It was a small amount, compared to what she was used to having access to, but she knew it was more than some people make in a whole year.

"We have a spending plan," Mike had told her. "Follow the budget. I'll take care of your expenses, but you need to try to make that last. In a few months, we'll have some of your excess houses sold, and in a few years, you'll see a return on these investments. But until then." His smile was warm and affectionate.

"Thanks, Mike. Don't forget to give yourself a tip."

Brittany was on her way out when Mike stopped her. "Are you going to the reunion?"

Brittany shook her head. "Why would I?"

"Well, I know everyone would like to see you. They've missed you, the last five years."

"I miss them, too," Brittany said, a little sadly. "But I could never tell if they really missed me, after I got the money, or if they just wanted some of it. I gave Finn and Puck some money last time I saw them, and then I found out they were using it to buy condoms and whipped cream." Brittany rolled her eyes.

"That doesn't surprise me." Mike's tone was warm and inviting. "But Marley will be there, and Sugar, and Tina. And Quinn."

Brittany took a moment to think it over, before she shrugged. "Only if you'll take me."

Mike looked pleased at this. "It's a date."

Brittany never expected to walk away from that ten year reunion with Quinn on her arm (figuratively), but that's how it happened. She saw Quinn sitting alone at a table, and Brittany zeroed in on her – they had been close, once, a lifetime ago. Brittany had been both disappointed and relieved to not see hide nor hair of Santana, but after the initial awkwardness wore off, most of the Glee kids were back to their old selves. Sugar was in the jewelry industry – and it showed. Marley was an English teacher in Chicago. Tina was, indeed, doing Broadway, and so was Rachel – she wasn't able to make it. Brittany missed seeing all of these people who had been, at one point, the main focus of her life.

Artie was doing well, producing and directing films. Brittany thought he would become famous someday. Mercedes sang gospel music, and she was gaining a name for herself. Finn owned Hummel Tires and Lube, and Puck was his co-manager. Brittany asked about Kurt, who didn't show. Kurt had a family, now, with a boy he met at NYADA named Jason, and his daughter had the flu.

Brittany's smile was big when she imagined Kurt with a baby.

Blaine came, though, and so did Joe and Jake. They weren't kids who graduated with Brittany's class, but they came all the same. Brittany wondered if this was really a McKinley reunion, or a glee club reunion.

"Looking for Sam?" Quinn had asked, when Brittany's eyes scanned the room. The old gymnasium felt small and claustrophobic to Brittany.

"No." Brittany shook her head.

"You don't miss him?" Quinn was quieter, now, than she had been in high school. She let her hair grow to its natural shade, which was a medium golden brown, with a lighter glimmer of honey dancing through it. Quinn's hair was long, now, too, past the nape of her neck, and Brittany thought that Quinn looked older – but that it definitely suited her. Brittany had missed Quinn's quiet voice and her piercing, fractured eyes.

"Sam was a good friend to me. I love him. I do miss him, sometimes."

Quinn nods. "I do, too. I miss all of you."

Brittany had smiled at that. "What are your plans next week?"

"Next weekend? Do you want to get brunch or something?"

Brittany shrugged. "Sure. But I meant the whole week. Are you free?"

Quinn's eyes grew oddly round. "Why? Are you planning a kidnapping?"

"No," Brittany suppressed a laugh. "I was thinking the Bahamas."

Quinn took a long moment to respond with, "No way."

Brittany laughed, shrugging. "Sure. Or if you think you'll be too hot, we can go somewhere else. The Netherlands or Australia or Greece. You pick."

"I couldn't, Brittany. I just couldn't."

"No, really," Brittany was still smiling. She enjoyed this game. "Anywhere you want, we'll go for a week. Consider it pay back for all the years I copied your math homework."

Quinn was reluctant, and she fought valiantly, but in the end, Brittany won.

She always does.

That was four years ago, and Quinn never did go home after their week in Israel. Brittany prefers tropical climes for vacations, but she has to admit – even now – that Israel had been a once-in-a-lifetime kinda trip.

It might have something to do with all of the hot, humid nights they spent on the roof of their bed and breakfast, alone in the world but also dramatically exposed. Brittany still gets chills when she thinks about it, and remembers the way Quinn looked at her the first time they kissed – and the flood of hot impatience that followed, almost as if Quinn were whispering finally, finally, I've been waiting so long for this, and now I finally have it – have you – and Quinn fell right into Brittany's life, and her heart, as if there had always been a special Quinn-shaped hole in it all along.

Now that they're over thirty, Brittany feels a little bit like her skin is stretched too tight – she doesn't think it's the impending birthday, because, let's be real, her body is still rockin' – as if her life is too boring, a little stale. She wants to do something different. She wants to move forward, onwards, onto the next great adventure.

"What do you think about kids?" Brittany asks Quinn one night over lobster.

Quinn had been staring down at the slim iPad on the dinner table, taking in the news (or something equally boring and adult), when Brittany asked. She looks up slowly, blinking the clouds out of her eyes, which always makes Brittany smile – she loves being able literally see Quinn make herself focus. When they were younger and two-thirds of the most elite clique of girls, Brittany would get excited just from watching that look cross Quinn's face – the one that meant somebody, somewhere, was going to have their ass handed to them. Now that Quinn is older and a little more soft around the edges, it's usually an expression that crosses her face when she is thinking very hard about something – which always makes Brittany want to kiss her silly – and she is half tempted to get up and do so before Quinn answers.

"Kids? Is this a new rock band I've never heard of?"

Brittany can tell Quinn is being coy, which is a little unsettling.

"I want to have a baby."

Quinn looks slightly nauseous.

"Come on, Quinn. We're getting old. What are we waiting for?"

"This isn't some mid-life crisis, is it?" Quinn's brows wrinkle with worry.

"No. I don't think so." Brittany shrugs. "I know that you want to have kids, too."

"Yes," Quinn nods. "But now? I don't know, Britt –"

"Honey, I love you. I'm happy. I'm ready to start a family with you. Do you feel the same way?"

Quinn bites her lip, and her expression is full of so many mixed emotions that, for a brief, wild moment Brittany fears Quinn will answer no – but then she nods, exhaling loudly. "Yes, of course I do, Brittany."

Brittany's muscles unwind slightly. "So let's do it. Let's make a baby."

Quinn takes a few moments before she finally nods. "Okay, Britt. But let's not rush into this – it needs a lot of research."

Brittany laughs, standing up abruptly, and Quinn has her hands up defensively when Brittany sprints to her side of the table. In one swift, sure motion, she has Quinn out of her chair and caught up in her arms, and Quinn is laughing and giggling when Brittany spins her in wild circles. "Wait, Britt! Dinner-!"

Brittany ignores her on the short dash through their house, heedlessly knocking into side-tables and disturbing pictures hanging on the walls.

"We can start trying now," Brittany assures Quinn, right before she barrels through their bedroom door.

Quinn is laughing that deep, gut-busting laughter that sounds like it comes from her soul when they land on the bed in a tangled heap. "Don't think it works this way."

Brittany is grinning when she kisses Quinn.

Brittany doesn't like the term artificial insemination.

Sounds gross.

She wants a baby, and she knows how they're made – after that little misunderstanding about the stork, she got a thorough education from Miss Holliday – and she knows that, no matter how hard they try, they're going to need an extra person to bring a baby into the world.

Brittany doesn't want that person to be a stranger.

"So we can use someone from your family," Quinn suggests absently, while she pours over information on the internet, crouched in front of her computer desk. Brittany is fidgety, touching all of the little knick-knacks on Quinn's desk, and the decorative items sprawled across the room. Nice, furnished, put-together rooms like this always make Brittany slightly stir-crazy. She just wants to up-end everything and create a patternless mess. Quinn requires her to leave at least half of the house in some kind of working order, though, so she has to settle with picking things up and putting them back down again.

"I don't have any brothers." Brittany says, frowning. "Besides, that's kinda weird."

"Cousins?" Quinn isn't really paying attention.

"No." Brittany shakes her head. "Maybe an uncle."

Quinn scrunches up her nose. "Old."

Brittany laughs. "I don't want to use any of my uncles, anyway."

"It would be good to use family," Quinn looks at her, but her eyes are still far away. "That way, the baby will be related to me and you."

"I'm going to be the baby's mom, doesn't matter whose DNA it has," Brittany's tone is dismissive. "What about a friend?"

Quinn makes a noise in the back of her throat. "Like who?"

"Somebody from glee?"

Quinn frowns. "I don't think so, Britt."

"Why not?"

"Who are you suggesting we use to father our child? Artie?" Quinn grimaces. "Finn? Puck? No. Hell no."

Brittany thinks, but before she can come up with anything, Quinn's face turns thoughtful.

"We could use Sam," she eyes Brittany up and down, a little critically. "He looks like he could be your brother."

Brittany rolls her eyes. She got enough jokes about that in high school when they were dating. "Do you really want to breasfeed a miniature Trouty Mouth?"

Quinn laughs, shakes her head.

"I think we should use Mike."

That makes Quinn pause.

"Why Mike?"

Brittany shrugs. "You said you wanted to use someone related to me. Well, the glee club kids are my family. I want to use one of them. Mike is like the best parts of both of us in one – he's smart, like you, and he loves dancing, like me. It will be perfect."

Quinn doesn't seem convinced. "That will make our baby biracial, Brittany."

"Bi-whatsit?" Brittany tilts her head. "If the baby comes out straight or gay or a real life unicorn, I'll love it, Quinn. Who cares?" she frowns. "How is using Mike's sperm going to-?"

Quinn shakes her head. "Biracial, Brittany. Not.. not that." Quinn makes a face as if she doesn't want to imagine this future child of hers partaking in sex of any kind. "Meaning mixed. It will be white and Asian."

"So?"

"People will think that we adopted it." Quinn is getting a little short with Brittany, now.

"And why is that a problem?"

Quinn sighs.

Brittany traces the tiny lines on Quinn's knuckles, watching them as she goes. "We aren't adopting, at least not this time. We're going to make a baby together. I love you, and I love Mike, and I'll love our baby."

Quinn watches the smooth, idle dance of Brittany's fingers over her hands. "Mike does have really good hair."

Brittany smiles.

Quinn wasn't sure Mike would go for it, but Brittany was.

He didn't hesitate. He even seemed thrilled – he used the word honored, which is a big deal with these Asian guys, isn't it? – and Brittany lets Quinn and Mike draw up the paperwork. She doesn't understand most of it, anyway, and she thinks things like that are silly; she knows Mike would never try to take their baby away.

Quinn spent long hours talking to Brittany about what it's like to have a child and give it to someone else to raise, and how it can change you – how it can make you into someone else, someone completely different.

Brittany listened, because she knows that Quinn needs to say these words, but she doesn't tell Quinn that Mike isn't giving a baby away – Mike is just helping them make their own.

Mike is the one who convinces Quinn, finally. Brittany didn't hear that conversation, but she's pleased by it, nonetheless.

Quinn and Mike go to see doctors, respectively, and all of the preparation and talking makes Brittany restless. She wants to have a baby now. She's tired of waiting.

"I'll be ovulating in a week. We can start then," Quinn tells her, in an effort to make her patient. "You might miss these days when we have a screaming newborn."

"Maybe so." Brittany smiles, runs the palms of her hands down Quinn's bare arms. "Are you nervous at all?"

"A little bit." Quinn presses her lips together. "I hated being pregnant, before."

"You were beautiful." Brittany kisses the nape of Quinn's neck.

Quinn hums, but doesn't say anything.

"How long has it been for you, anyway, since you..?"

"Since I what?" Quinn blinks.

Brittany smiles, pressing her nose against Quinn's cheek. "Had sex with a man."

"Oh." Quinn raises her eyebrows. "Maybe a year before we got together. Maybe longer. Why? What does that have to do with anything?"

Brittany laughs. "Well, if you're ovulating in a week, then that means.."

Quinn doesn't react for a moment, and then she's suddenly whipping around to face Brittany – her expression is one of pure shock. Brittany wears one almost exactly like it, because Quinn moved so fast that Brittany's head is still spinning, a little bit.

"What are you talking about?"

"Making a baby? With Mike?"

"Yes," Quinn's voice is tense, now. "And how do you imagine this is going to happen -?"

Brittany waits a moment, giving Quinn time to clarify the question, but the silence between them drags out. "You've had a baby before, Quinn,"

"Yes," Quinn snaps. "I know. What do you mean, here, Brittany?"

"We're going to make a baby with Mike –"

"Using Mike's sperm. His sperm. We aren't going to – I'm not going to have sex with him!"

Brittany stares at Quinn.

"What? How is that possible?"

"Artificial insemination, Brittany!" Quinn almost shouts. "Why else do you think we visited that fertility clinic last week?"

Brittany doesn't really remember much about the clinic except the magazines that had a lot of wildlife on the covers.

"Artificial insemination makes me think of alien babies," Brittany says.

Quinn looks really angry now – and Brittany sort of wants to go hide in their closet until she calms down.

"Have you paid any attention to anything we've been doing over these last few months?" Quinn huffs, gesturing at a pamphlet on the desk. "We have an appointment for Mike to make a deposit, and then –"

"Wait." Brittany blinks. "Is that what the bed with the stirrups was for? Somebody's just gonna – squirt it in you?"

"Yes!" Quinn grimaces. "Don't be so graphic, god,"

"That's weird, Quinn," Brittany is skeptical. "I think we should just do it the normal way."

"That's probably the first time I've ever heard you say that, ever," Quinn rolls her eyes. "I'd rather have a nurse 'squirt' it into me, than have Mike do it!"

"Come on, Quinn, it will be fun." Brittany gets a glint in her eye. "Don't you remember that time we -?"

"Of course I do." Quinn runs a hand through her hair. "That was different. That was Acapulco. You got me drunk."

"You can be drunk this time," Brittany supplies cheerfully.

"That was with a woman,"

"I've always wanted to try it with a man." Brittany smiles.

Quinn shakes her head. "I don't think so, Britt. Not this time."

Brittany takes a moment, and she can see the tension in Quinn – she looks like a rubber band pulled taut, only a moment away from snapping. Brittany knows that part of it is nerves, in general, and that Quinn is dealing with a frantic mixture of emotions at the prospect of becoming a mother, again. Brittany knows that Quinn needs reassurance.

She steps forward, cupping Quinn's face with both of her hands, and then presses a small kiss to Quinn's mouth.

"I want to have a baby with you, Quinn. If you want us to do it in a clinic, then that's how we'll do it."

Quinn lets out a breath.

"But I'd rather – I'd rather do it in our bedroom. I'd rather be a part of it. I'd like to help make it happen, if I can," Brittany's smile is gentle.

Quinn looks at Brittany's face for a long, breathless moment, before she huffs. "You think you're cute, don't you?"

Brittany tries to remain neutral.

Quinn scowls at her. "Brittany, I swear to god, if this is just because you want to see Mike naked –"

"That is a benefit," Brittany says solemnly, "but I do want to make our baby like this – it would help me feel more like it's.. more like it's mine."

Quinn is silent again before shaking her head. "You're good," she taps Brittany's nose with her finger. "You are good, Brittany Pierce, I'll give you that. You almost had me."

Brittany pokes her bottom lip out. "Pleeaaase,"

Quinn's eyebrows draw together.

"We could just try," Brittany grips both of Quinn's hands in her own. "If you hate it for any reason, we can stop."

"What if Mike isn't okay with this, Britt? Did you think of that?"

Brittany raises an eyebrow. "Seriously? You think he's going to say no?"

Quinn throws her hands up.

"We're coming up with a code word."

Brittany bounces on the balls of her feet. "It can be spaghetti."

Quinn squints at Brittany incredulously.

"I don't want you to try to re-enact any pornos we've watched, ever," Quinn tells her. "No crazy positions or weird dirty talk – I mean it this time, Brittany!"

"Okay, okay!" Brittany stifles a laugh. "Whatever you want, Quinn."

Quinn's face is flushed an adorable shade of red, and Brittany wants to kiss it, but she knows that would only annoy Quinn further.

"I can't believe we're doing this."

Brittany grins, wrapping Quinn in a hug.

"And only one time. Just one time. If it doesn't work, then after that, we use the doctor."

"It'll work," Brittany assures her.

"How can you be so sure?"

Brittany wants to say, well, it only took one time with Puck, and Mike's sperm have to be faster than his because he moves a lot faster than Puck ever did, but she doesn't think that's a very good idea. "I just have a feeling."

Quinn pulls back enough to look up at Brittany's face. "I hope you're right," her nose wrinkles again. "I'd hate to go through all of this for nothing."

Brittany kisses the lines on Quinn's face until they dissolve, and Quinn sighs, letting Brittany draw her close, shifting until their bodies are snug together. They stay like that for a long time, until Brittany finally takes Quinn to their bed, and they fall asleep wrapped up in each other's heartbeats.

Brittany offers to get a hotel room, but Quinn insists that she's more comfortable conceiving their child in their own home, on their own bed. When the doorbell rings and Quinn freezes where she's sitting on the couch, Brittany bounds to the front door with a quick kiss to her temple.

Mike is still wearing his suit from work and he holds out a bottle of wine, which she takes happily as she leans forward to embrace him. She wishes that she could warn him about how nervous Quinn is and how she might still chicken out, but there's no time before Quinn is coming around the corner into the foyer with her fake smile gleaming on her face.

Quinn opens a bottle of white wine that has already been properly chilled and thanks Mike for his gift. Brittany wants to comment on how the best gift is still to come, but Quinn is already narrowing her eyes in her direction like she knows the words are on the tip of her tongue.

She sits restlessly next to Quinn with their fingers intertwined on the couch while Quinn and Mike talk about all of the boring things they both do at their jobs. Somewhere after the second glass, Mike removes his suit jacket and tugs at the knot of his tie, leaving it loose enough so that he can unbutton the top button.

Brittany studies his features as he talks. She doesn't understand Quinn's concerns with having a biracial baby, when he has such lovely cheekbones, and shiny hair that is pin straight just like her own. His smile is warm and inviting and Brittany thinks that he fits into this family so much more than some numbered bottle at the sperm bank ever could.

She grows bored of the talking quickly and she swallows the last gulp of her wine before she puts down the glass and uses it to grab Quinn's face. She kisses her while Mike is in mid-sentence with his response, and she hears him fall silent in the armchair as her tongue runs along Quinn's lip.

Quinn's kiss is more tentative, almost like she's afraid she's being rude to their guest, but Brittany tries to remind her that this is the main attraction of the evening in the first place. Brittany doesn't push Quinn; she keeps her kisses slow and languid, her one hand on Quinn's jaw, the other still tangled with Quinn's between them.

From behind her turned back, she hears rustling and the couch sinks down as Mike moves from the chair to the couch to join them. He puts a warm hand on Brittany's shoulder, but it isn't invasive or anything. It's just simply there, like a reminder of what is to come.

As Quinn's kisses grow in confidence, she pushes back on Brittany, who ends up on her back with her head in Mike's lap as Quinn settles her weight on top of her. She watches as Quinn's eyes flicker to Mike's, but her face breaks into a nervous smile before she dips down to capture Brittany's lips again.

Mike strokes at Brittany's hair almost absentmindedly as Quinn focuses on Brittany's mouth, her hands planted firmly on either side of Brittany's shoulders. Nobody is pressing things forward and Brittany knows that she has to let Quinn control the pace if this is going to work. She wants to make a baby with this woman far away from any doctor's office and if that means doing things Quinn's way, she's perfectly happy to let it take all night.

The minutes pass and Brittany finally turns her head to break the kiss, causing Quinn to pause above her, her hair falling around her face like a curtain. She can see Mike through the thin veil, but even so it feels like it's a private moment between just the two of them.

"Should we move into the bedroom?" Brittany suggests gently, her hand finding Quinn's waist where her blouse has ridden up.

Quinn's eyes dart from Brittany's, down to her swollen lips. Brittany watches her with a tender look as Quinn sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. It takes a long moment, but finally Quinn nods, her gaze locked tightly on Brittany's like it's the only thing tethering her to the ground.

Quinn sits back on her heels and Mike looks at her curiously, but his hand is still tangled in Brittany's hair and he hasn't even tried to cop a feel while they kissed furiously in his lap. Brittany can see the thoughts swimming across Quinn's face, and she's grateful that Quinn trusts Mike – even if she doesn't know it – as much as she does.

When Quinn stands up and holds her hand out to Brittany, she takes it, though she's perfectly capable of getting up by herself. But Quinn is chivalrous – how she would smile prettily to hear Brittany say that - and Brittany knows she needs the contact of palm-to-palm to keep her from a break down. Mike stands after Brittany's head leaves his lap and he pats the creases that she created on his pants. Brittany can't help but look at where his pants are starting to grow tight. My baby is in there, she thinks and it makes her want to giggle at the image, but she doesn't want to upset Quinn, so she holds it in as she leads the way towards their bedroom.

The candles are laid out on surfaces throughout the room and Brittany drops Quinn's hand so that she can light them. Quinn rolls her eyes behind her; though Brittany can't see her do it, she knows that it happens, because she does every time Brittany insists on setting the mood. But this is a special occasion and she believes in Feng Shui. If this is their only chance to do it this way instead of in a sterile room with a turkey baster, Brittany wants to do it right.

Once the candles are lit, she glides back to where Quinn and Mike are still standing by the door and she kisses Quinn. It's more urgent this time and she has to fight to keep her own heart from beating out of her chest when Quinn's hands move up to her face, cradling it gently.

She loves Quinn in a way she's never loved anyone else, and she tries to fit all of that love into the simple movements of her tongue against Quinn's, but it feels hot and impatient – like the tense build up that precipitates an explosion. She breaks the kiss with Quinn and pecks her nose playfully before she reaches out a hand to Mike, forcing him to take a few steps closer to them, closing the gap. She kisses him gently, her other hand finding Quinn's and squeezing it reassuringly. Mike is a pretty good kisser; he's patient and polite (and all Brittany can think about is the last boy she kissed, so many years ago, who smelled like coconut oil and tasted like lime tequila) and Brittany finds herself enjoying it (which isn't much of a surprise). She reaches her free hand around and runs it along his ass, which makes him tighten for a minute before relaxing.

When they break apart, Brittany is glad to see that Quinn's eyes have grown darker, like the opaque shadows that dance along a forest floor, a color somewhere between green and black and gold. She's enjoying this. Brittany can just feel it within her gut that she's going to get her baby tonight.

Mike glances at Brittany like he's asking for permission before he steps into Quinn and tilts her head up to kiss him. Quinn melts into it - Brittany wants to squeal with excitement when Mike's hands fall to rest on her hips, his fingers brushing softly against the exposed skin. Brittany moves forward and slides up against Quinn's back, pushing her hair over her other shoulder so that she can kiss the soft skin that she finds there.

Quinn groans into Mike's mouth when Brittany's teeth scrape against the base of her neck. It convinces Brittany that Quinn is ready to proceed forward and she slips her hands under Quinn's blouse, letting them scratch along her flat stomach before Brittany cups Quinn through her bra.

Quinn's head falls back against Brittany and Brittany takes advantage of the better access to the long column of her neck, which is pale and vulnerable in the candlelight. She slides her hands back down to Quinn's hips and gestures for Mike to take over.

Brittany leans in and kisses Quinn full on the lips. She communicates better with her body than she ever has with actual words and it's a language that Quinn has become fluent in over these past few years. Brittany's kiss is a searing contradiction – of gentleness and heat – and with it, she asks the question, do you trust me? The meat of Quinn's hand against her cheek is enough of an answer.

Brittany pulls away and slips her own shirt over her head. Mike's eyes go wide as Brittany's hand reaches behind her and releases the clasp of her bra. The material falls away and she backs up towards the bed summoning Quinn and Mike with one finger. Mike follows behind Quinn slowly, pulling his own shirt over his head as he does.

Quinn crawls onto the bed and Brittany reaches for the hem of her shirt. Quinn lifts her arms and allows the shirt to be pulled off easily. Brittany lets Mike come up behind Quinn and his hand fumbles for only a second before Quinn's bra slackens and slips down her shoulders.

Brittany reaches forward and pulls Quinn down on top of her, their bare chests meeting. The warmth and nerves mix in the space between them and Brittany feels the pull in her chest that she always does with Quinn - like an invisible thread keeps them connected. This time is different, somehow; the energy that defines the beginning of something new, something that she has only ever felt with Quinn – and it's a private, intimate feeling. Brittany is so caught up in it that she's surprised, for a moment, when she realizes Mike's hands are doing a soft dance along the skin of Quinn's back.

It's with that tiny brush of skin on skin that makes her crave every inch of Quinn and she wastes no time getting them both out of their jeans and panties. She pulls Quinn back down once the clothes hit the floor and wraps her arms around Quinn, holding her as tightly as possible. She wants to move forward with the evening. She wants a baby growing inside of Quinn that she can talk to as she lays with her head in Quinn's lap each night. She wants a nursery with ducks painted on the walls and a stroller by the front door for their family walks. She wants this life - a life she never imagined she would have with Quinn.

"Let's do this," she whispers against the shell of Quinn's ear.

Mike takes the hint to undo his belt and he stands up, letting his pants pool around his ankles. He pulls off his black socks and climbs back onto the bed, looking unsure of what he should do.

"I need you first," Quinn states simply and Brittany nods, willing to do anything to make Quinn more relaxed.

Mike moves back until he's resting back against the headboard. He obviously doesn't want to interrupt any special moment between the girls. Quinn nudges Brittany back so that she's leaning back against his chest. His boxers are soft against her ass and she can feel him straining within them, but he slides back a little more so that he's not pressing his erection into her back. Brittany feels excitement of a different kind curl in her belly – it's an old, familiar quiver; it's the same sort of delighted anticipation one might have prior to riding a roller coaster.

Quinn wastes no time kissing down Brittany's body and settles on her stomach between her legs. The muscles in Brittany's stomach dance as Quinn's mouth starts moving against the warm, wet center of her, teasing with light kisses and faint, hot breaths. That sort of tentative, brushing friction always makes Brittany frantic with need – until her hips are bucking and her fists are twisting the bedsheets, her throat working around tiny, needy groans. Brittany fights to keep her eyes open while Quinn's are locked on hers, holding onto the connection between them. Quinn's hand snakes up her side and moves Mike's much larger ones onto her chest. He participates willingly, rolling her nipple between his fingers while Quinn's tongue moves harder and faster against her, hitting her clit with just the right amount of friction.

Quinn knows all of the secret, clever tricks of Brittany's body – she feels the heat coil, tense and powerful, low in her gut, after an embarrassingly short amount of time. Quinn refuses to break eye contact, holding Brittany in the moment there with her. The warmth of Mike behind her – his chest warm and solid, his legs bracketing the two of them – paired with the intense and concentrated movements of Quinn's mouth against her push Brittany over the edge. Her back arches, and she finally loses the will to focus; she slams her eyelids shut as the pressure finally releases, her bottom lip clamped firmly between her teeth in an effort to muffle her moans.

Quinn wipes a hand across her face before she moves up to kiss Brittany. She can feel Mike's excitement by the way he tries to shift underneath the two of them so that he's not pressing into Brittany, but it's becoming nearly impossible to contain how aroused he is. Brittany doesn't blame him. Even while lying in the boneless heat of afterglow, she knows that they're hot. Just seeing Quinn hovering above her like she is – naked, with hair a wild mess – makes Brittany's belly tighten. She can't imagine what it's doing to poor Mike.

Brittany knows that he's been more than patient and that it's really time. She kisses Quinn once more, firmly, before she pulls back, sweeping her eyes over Quinn's.

"How do you want to do this?" she asks simply. Quinn's cheeks redden and she looks away from Brittany and Mike.

"God, I haven't done this since -"

"Sweetie, you love being in all kinds of positions with me when we -" Brittany starts, but Quinn's embarrassed glare makes her stop mid-sentence. "Why don't you just lie down and let us do the rest?"

Quinn seems agreeable to this plan, and she rolls over so that her head is propped up on a couple of pillows. Brittany looks over to see Mike adjusting himself in his boxers, though it's impossible to hide his excitement. She pulls at the waistband until he springs free and he helps by kicking them down the rest of his legs. Quinn's eyes are wide at the sight of Brittany's hand wrapping around his shaft and stroking it until he's completely hard in her palm.

Brittany, seeing the apprehension on Quinn's face, leans forward and kisses her, reassuring her with her lips that things are going to go as planned. They are going to get their future together with this little half-Asian genius baby.

Quinn relaxes by degrees, with Brittany's mouth against hers, and Mike moves closer, allowing Brittany to stroke him as she kisses down Quinn's neck and over her collarbone, continuing in a hot trail until she's rolling her tongue over a stiff nipple. Quinn's eyes squeeze shut and Brittany moves down, letting Mike take over himself while she focuses on worshipping Quinn's body.

Her mouth moves along Quinn's skin, kissing along the faint stretch mark scars from her first pregnancy, allowing her tongue to tickle along Quinn's pelvic bone. Brittany inhales Quinn's scent only a moment before her tongue is lapping out, against Quinn's swollen lips, and the taste is intoxicating – it's uniquely Quinn; earthy, feminine, and exotic.

When Quinn is writhing on the bed, her hair going wild on the pillow, her fists clenched in the sheets, Brittany stops and moves up so that she's straddling Quinn's hips. Mike takes his cue and moves himself in between Quinn's legs. His fingers find her clit and he rubs it gently as Quinn gazes up at Brittany.

"Britt, I'm not sure about this," Quinn whispers, muscles coiling with tension.

"It's just me and you, okay?" Brittany tells her. "It's just us in our bed making our baby."

Quinn bites her lip and nods. Brittany moves forward, giving Mike enough room to move close enough that his tip is touching Quinn. She leans down and kisses Quinn with everything she has and she feels Mike press gently inside of her, stilling until Quinn's muscles relax, her legs finally falling apart. She kisses Quinn as he pulls out and thrusts back in with a little more force.

It's different, not being the one giving Quinn the pleasure, but she kisses her and runs her fingers along stiff nipples while Mike moves in and out behind her, his fingers pressing against her clit and making her back arch despite Brittany's weight on her stomach. Brittany can feel the moist heat of Quinn's breath against her face, and the small, whimpery noises she murmurs make everything inside of Brittany white hot and scorching – Brittany's own hips undulate to the rhythm set by Quinn's body moving in tandem with Mike's.

Brittany feels the air strangle in her lungs when Quinn clenches, freezing, and the high-pitched, breathy vibrations begin in her chest – she wants to hold Quinn and pull her close, anticipating the way that she'll thrash and move. Instead, she simply watches; she watches as Quinn comes undone, her face screwing up in an expression that is caught in the crevice between pain and pleasure. It's fierce – she looks almost angry – and the force with which she clutches the blankets beneath them makes Brittany's body throb with want.

Quinn comes before Mike, her body shuddering, and he grunts shortly after, his hips pressing him as deeply into her as he can as his legs shake with the force of his orgasm. In the quiet stillness, Brittany wonders – did they make their baby here tonight? It feels strange to imagine creating a human this way, when the echoes of her own pleasure still vibrate in her fingertips, and the sounds of Mike's breathing are harsh against her ears.

Mike slips out of Quinn and grabs his boxers to wipe himself off. He gets off the bed wordlessly, offering them a bashful smile, and walks into the en suite bathroom, leaving Brittany to cuddle up against Quinn's side alone.

It feels quiet and empty without him, somehow – though Brittany did everything she could to help Quinn forget he was even there, she misses his presence. Part of Brittany wants to call Mike back into the bedroom, and pull him close; part of her wants to feel his body move against hers – but she knows that this isn't about that. Brittany isn't used to ignoring those kinds of desires, and – usually – she simply wouldn't. But Quinn presses her face against Brittany's shoulder, and her lips are parted, sucking in air; Brittany brushes the hair away from Quinn's face, to press soft, feather-light kisses along her nose and cheekbones, and she knows that this – right here, with Quinn – is much more important than that.

A few more moments tick by in silence, before a thought occurs to Brittany –

"Hey! What if it leaks out? Quinn! Do a headstand!"

"Brittany, no – what are you doing? Stop that!"

"This is important!"

"Britt – I swear to god – stoppit! I don't need to do a headstand – oh, for Christ's sake!"