Author's Note: Thank you all for your wonderful reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks for continuing to read and review! Also, be warned, there's a lot of cursing in this chapter, not sure why, it just turned out that way...

Santana woke up to the sound of her cell phone ringing on her bedside table. She groaned and put the pillow over her head, trying to ignore it, but Brittany kicked her in the leg.

"Make it stop, San," Brittany said, her voice raspy. Santana reached over and tried to silence it, but couldn't figure out the buttons on her new phone. She sighed with relief when the phone stopped ringing and rolled over so she was curled around Brittany, her head buried in Brittany's hair and her arm wrapped over her. Then it started again. Santana growled and rolled over again, this time she was at least cognizant enough to see who was calling. Noah Fucking Puckerman. There was no way she was taking his call at 5:30 in the morning. She silenced her phone, and then curled back into Brittany. She started to drift back into sleep, when on the other side of the bed Brittany's phone began to ring. Brittany sleepily reached around the bed table for it, before lifting the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" Santana covered her head with the pillow again, but Brittany was kicking her. "It's Noah Fucking Puckerman, he wants to talk to you." Brittany said, waving the phone behind her head to her wife. Santana grabbed it, but didn't even take her head off the pillow.

"Why the fuck are you calling my house at like five, Puck? Don't you know I have infants?"

"That's why I'm calling now! You always yell at me when I call on my way to work in the morning because it breaks your precious morning routine. And if I call you at work, your assistant always tells me she'll pass along the message, and if I call you at night I'm either interrupting dinner, cockblocking, or waking you up and, like you said, you have infants." He imitated Santana's voice.

"I only listened to about 30% of what you just said. What do you want?"

"Well, I believe someone promised me that the first time she would drink was with the Puckasaurus at Jumbo's Clown Room, and that someone may have broken that promise."

"What are you talking about, Puck?" Santana asked, getting angrier by the second that Puck had woken her up to talk about Jumbo's Clown Room.

"I was helping one of the makeup artists bring some boxes to her car," Santana rolled her eyes, "and who do I run into, but one, Rachel Berry. We start talking, and she's telling me this story that I really wasn't paying attention to…"he trailed off momentarily, as though he was actually trying to remember Rachel's story, "something about that gay-ass games night you girls have been having lately…anyways, I tune back in when she says that you were drunk. I can't believe you got drunk with Rachel before me! And apparently you've been drinking since Quinn's brat's birthday party which was a month ago and didn't say anything?"

"Don't use 'gay' pejoratively."

"Don't use big words to try and change the subject!"

"What do you want, Puck? You want me to go to Jumbo's with you? Fine, it's Friday, I don't have work tomorrow, I'll see you here at 10, okay? I'm going to go the fuck back to sleep, before my children wake me up in half a fucking hour, Puckerman! Are you happy now?"

"You know it." She could just picture his self-satisfied grin and it made her want to punch him through the phone more than she already did.

"Fuck you, Puck." She slammed the phone shut and rolled over, nestled back into Brittany. She could feel herself drifting back into sleep.

"Mama. Mama. Bah. Ma." The sound of babbling and giggling came over the baby monitors. Brittany just groaned. Santana sat up, holding her head in her hands.

"I'll go get the milk ready. Meet you in the kitchen in 5?" Brittany nodded, stretching and throwing on a shirt as Santana headed for the door.

"By the way, when did you change Puck's name in my phone?" Santana just smirked, ready to start what was shaping up to be a very long day.

Thirty minutes later, on the other side of town, Quinn woke to the sound of her phone buzzing next to her. She smiled when she saw the name.

"Hey, Rach! What's up?"

"Hello, Quinn! I was just calling to let you know that Eric came down with a terrible case of tonsillitis and filming is on hold until further notice! I was thinking that we could have another girls day…you know, the works…breakfast with cocktails, mani-pedis, the Grove…assuming Lily doesn't get in another fight at school…" Quinn's husband lightly shoved her in bed, mouthing 'who are you talking to?' Quinn just held up one finger, trying to get him to hold on a second.

"I would love to, Rach, especially since our last girls' day was cut short by Lily's antics, but Justin surprised us late last night so I think I'm going to have to postpone…"

"Oh!" Rachel said quickly. "No worries! Tell Justin hello for me! Have fun!" Rachel hung up the phone before Quinn could say anything else. She laid back down in her bed. Her phone buzzed next to her.

Quinn Fabray-Scott:

Really, really sorry Rach,

you know how much I like

girls days. Make it up to you?

Dinner at mine Mon. I'll order

vegan takeout, you can pick the

movie?

Sent, Friday, July 9, 6:30am

Rachel quickly plunked out a message to Quinn.

Rachel Berry:

Sure. Have fun with Justin.

Sent: Friday, July 9, 6:32 am

Quinn Fabray-Scott:

Are you mad? That sounded like a mad text…

Sent: Friday, July 9, 6:40am

Rachel Berry:

No. Spend time with your husband.

A little disappointed is all, I guess.

Plus, a text can't sound like anything:)

Sent: Friday, July 9, 6:45am

Quinn rolled out of bed, stretching her arms over her head.

"Babe, why are you getting up so early?" Justin said, leaning up on his elbows. "And who were you talking to at this ungodly hour?"

"I'm getting up because this is the time you have to get up when you have three children that need to get to school. And it was Rachel, she has the day off and wanted to hang out."

"Ugh, he said, laying back into his pillow. All I ever hear about is 'Rachel this, and Rachel that, and Rachel said the funniest thing the other day.' Even from the kids. I thought you hated Rachel."

"I hated Rachel when I was seventeen, Justin. I'm sorry that you haven't realized it yet, but people change as they age. Some people grow apart, Rachel and I happen to be growing…together…" There was a question at the end of her sentence, because Quinn had started it but didn't really know where it was going to end, and didn't really know what it meant. "Besides, at least Rachel is around the majority of the time, which is more than can be said for most people who show up for 'surprise' visits and expect the world to stop turning because he's graced it with his presence," Justin didn't respond. "I have to get in the shower. I don't want the kids to be late for school." Quinn slammed the door to her bathroom and started the water, waiting for it to get warm. She didn't know why she had just been so mean to her husband. She was happy he was home. She also enjoyed spending the day with Rachel, and his being home was ruining that, not to mention throwing off the family's routine. The moment she thought it she felt bad. She took off her clothes and climbed into the shower. He was a part of the family, and yet for some reason, today at least, he felt like an intrusion. She let the hot water flow over her body and her mind drift to other, less confusing, thoughts.

Over in Silverlake, Brittany and Santana had fed the twins, showered, and were now sitting at the table eating breakfast while the twins played in their playpen. They were at the age where they repeated anything that was said to them, which proved cute at first, but being twins, had become the most irritating phenomenon of Santana's life. About 15 minute earlier she had said 'Hi' and their back and forth 'hi' had continued ever since.

"Please, Britt, please," Santana said, looking up from the LA Times. "Make it stop." Brittany looked over at their children, sitting in their playpen facing each other.

"Mama!" Brittany said, glancing over at them.

"Mama," Nico said.

"Mama," Olivia said.

"Mama," Nico said.

"Okay," Santana said, "that was so not helpful." Brittany just smirked at her wife.

"What was Puck calling about this morning?"

'Oh, he had his panties all in a twist because Berry told him that I was drunk during our last game night and apparently at some point I had promised him that the first night I got drunk would be with him at Jumbo's." Santana took a sip of her coffee and returned to her paper. "Anyway," she said, not looking up from the paper, "I told him I would go with him tonight…" There was silence across the table. After a painfully long moment, Santana dared to raise an eye to look at her wife. Just as she suspected, Brittany was glaring at her.

"You're not going," was all Brittany had to say, taking a bite of her banana.

"I have to go, Britt! I promised him!"

"Absolutely not."

"Britt…"

"No."

"But…"

"No."

"Brittany…"

"Don't use my full name with me, Santana," she said, drawing Santana's name out for emphasis. "Let's talk for a moment about what happens when you and Puck have your 'lesbro' nights at Jumbo's. One: you freak out because of the clown décor. Two: Puck tells you that you'll get over it if you drink more. Three: you drink more. Four: you freak out more, because drinking makes clowns scarier to you. Five: Puck reminds you that there are no real clowns at Jumbo's, just drawings of clowns and clown dolls, so you should calm down and pay attention to the naked ladies on stage. Six: you drink more, take his advice, and then come home wasted and crying because you looked at boobs and you're afraid looking is cheating. Seven: I have to comfort you, and assure you that looking at boobs when Puck drags you to a strip bar is inevitable and we have amazing sex. I guess reason seven isn't that bad…"Brittany said, trailing off.

"Well, why don't we find a babysitter and you come with us?" Santana asked, eyeing Brittany hopefully.

"Where are we going to find a babysitter this late?"

"I think Quinn owes me a favor. Her kids have given me black eyes twice in the last month…"

"I suppose it could be kind of entertaining…" Brittany said. "Besides, I want to be able to keep an eye on you…"

"Oh, please, Britt," Santana said, "I think looking is cheating…why do you need to keep an eye on me?"

"I'm more in it for the entertainment," Brittany said, smirking at Santana.

"It's settled then, I'll call Quinn, and we'll both go out tonight." Brittany nodded and they returned to their normal morning routine. After a couple minutes, Brittany looked up.

"See what you've done to our children?" Santana looked up from the paper at her wife, and then over to her two children.

"Panties," Nico said.

"Panties," Olivia said.

"Panties," Nico said.

"I think the nature vs. nurture argument has just been resolved. Those are definitely your children."

"You know it," Santana laughed, and resumed reading the news.

Santana secured her Bluetooth in her ear before taking off to work.

"Hey, Santana," Quinn said, picking her buzzing phone on the island in her kitchen.

"Q, I need a favor."

"Oh god, what is it?"

"I promised Puck I would go out with him tonight, but Britt won't let me go unless she comes. Think you're down for a little babysitting?"

"Wapshhh," Quinn said.

"What?"

"I was just cracking the whip," Quinn smirked into the phone.

"Fuck you, Q…" Quinn laughed.

"I would love to babysit, San, especially after all the hell my kids put you through recently, but Justin surprised us this weekend."

"Please, Quinn. I'm begging you."

"I just really really can't, Santana. I'm sorry. I definitely owe you. Next time, for sure."

"Ugh. Well have fun, and tell Justin a big 'fuck you' from me. Of all the weekends…" Santana trailed off.

"Will do, San," Quinn said, as they hung up the phone.

Brittany had just put the twins down for their mid-morning nap and grabbed a baby monitor and went into the backhouse to practice. A few years earlier, Santana had converted the back house into a dance studio for her. She was touched, of course, but also suspected it had something to do with her constantly breaking things in their living room when her practicing got too enthusiastic. It really was beautiful, though. Santana had installed hardwood floors and mirrors took up all of one back wall, while a barre took up the opposite wall. She had even put in picture windows, because she knew that Brittany got sad when she didn't get enough sun. She often wondered how Santana had gotten it all done under her nose, although she supposed she wasn't known for being the most…observant…person around. That's why she had Santana, right? Just as she was getting warmed up, her phone started buzzing in the corner.

"Hey Rach! What's up?"

"Oh nothing, I just wanted to let you know that I surprisingly have today and tomorrow off!"

"Oh! That's nice, Rachel." Brittany continued to stretch.

"What are you doing, Britt?"

"I'm stretching…and then I'm going to be dancing."

"Oh, that's great! Are you thinking about going back to work?"

"Soon, I hope. I'm pretty much back to my pre-baby body, so I think I might start going on auditions again and teaching in a month or so…" There was silence again. "So, Rach, did you call for something? Because if not, I think I'm going to get back to dancing…" Over in her apartment, Rachel rolled her eyes. She loved Brittany, but the woman was so not good at getting a hint. If you wanted something, you had to just ask her.

"Well, as you know I've been spending a lot of time with Quinn, but Justin is in town this weekend and I have these days off and I was wondering if maybe you and Santana wanted to do something?"

"Oh!" Brittany said, wondering why she hadn't asked in the first place, instead of taking up her time with all of the small talk. Which wasn't really small. She scrunched her nose up as she thought about it. Small talk really was anything other than small. If she could count the number of minutes she had wasted in her life on small talk it would be big. It would probably by enormous…

"Britt?"

"Oh! Sorry Rachel! I forgot I was on the phone. Do you ever wonder why it's called small talk? It should really be called big talk, because people do it all the time, and because it's usually about big things, like the weather, or life in general…"

"I guess I never thought about it. Anyway, about hanging out this weekend?"

"Oh, sure! But not tonight. San, Puck and I are going to Jumbo's Clown Room."

"Oh."

"I mean you could come if you want, I just don't really think it would be your scene…you know, drinking, strippers…"

"That could be fun?"

"Really? Yay! Okay, we're leaving at ten, just come by here and we'll all go together! You could come to dinner beforehand, if you want…hold on Rach, San's on the other line."

"Hey babe!"

"Hey, B, what are you doing?"

"In the studio, Rachel is on the other line."

"Whatever you do, do not tell her about Jumbo's tonight." There was silence at the other end of the phone. "You told her already didn't you?" Still silence. "Great. So I'll scratch that name off the list of potential babysitters…" Brittany still didn't say anything. "Britt?"

"Why do they call it small talk?"

"Because it's about unimportant shit."

"Oh. Because I think it should be called big stuff."

"B. Can we talk about this later? Q can't babysit because Justin is in town. And you've invited Rachel, so we may have to postpone tonight."

"Deal with it, Santana."

"What?"

"You promised Puck you'd go, and I'm not letting you go without me, so you're only option is to deal with it. Isn't that what you do all day at work? Deal with your client's problems? Well, pretend I'm your client, and you have to make me happy, or you're going to lose your job," Brittany snapped into the phone.

"I'm not gonna lie," Santana said quieter now, her voice a little husky, "I'm super turned on right now."

"You better be. Now go fix it." Brittany hung up the phone. "Sorry about that Rach."

"No problem. I just yelped Jumbo's Clown Room." Rachel said.

"So are you in?"
"I suppose I have nothing else to do."

"Yay! Then come here we'll have dinner around seven, then we can get ready together and Puck will be here around ten!"

Brittany pressed end on her phone, not giving Rachel a chance to respond, and saw that she had a text message.

SanyBear:

Still super turned on and

I have to be in a meeting

in 15 minutes and I'm miserable.

Why are you so mean to me? And

later on, can you be my client

and I be your lawyer? ;)

Sent: Friday, July 9, 10:52am

Brittany laughed and sent out a quick text to her wife, before she heard crying resume on the baby monitor and she rushed toward the house. She was never going to get back to work.

Santana collected her files for her meeting and didn't see the text from her wife until she was heading out of her office.

Wifey:

Ur already my lawyer, babe,

u can give me oral arguments

all night long, and I know u

never stop until ur client is

satisfied, baby…

Sent: Friday, July 9, 10:55am

Santana was really unhappy she read that text right before her meeting. Now she was really going to be uncomfortable for the rest of the day.

Santana put her Bluetooth in her ear again as she drove from Paramount back to her office after her meeting.

"Weezy."

"Santana."

"Sup?"

"Why are you calling me?"

"We're friends!"

"Okay, so we may have moved past all that high school bullshit, but you still only actually call me when you want something…otherwise you just send a text or make Brittany call me to come over…"

"I'm growing."

"Bullshit, Santana, what do you want?"

"I don't want anything! I was just thinking, at Lily's birthday party, you were talking about how you and James were thinking about starting a family after your tour is done, and when Brittany and I were thinking about having kids we spent a lot of time with Quinn's kids, to see if we really wanted that…so maybe you'd want to spend some time with my kids tonight?"

"You need a babysitter."

"No, I just thought it would be helpful." Mercedes didn't respond. "Fine, weezy, I need a fucking babysitter. I promised Puck I would go with him to Jumbo's and Britt won't let me go unless I bring her, and Justin is in town, and Brittany invited Berry, I don't want to leave them with someone I don't trust with like, my own life, but Britt will never forgive me if I don't work this out," Santana said in one breath. Mercedes laughed.

"Obviously I'll be there. I just wanted to hear you express, again, how whipped you are."

"Fuck you, weezy."

"Never gets old. See you tonight." Mercedes hung up the phone.

Santana sat down at her desk and went through her agenda, trying to determine what remained to be done for the day. Her cell phone buzzed. She read the screen aloud, "Noah Fucking Puckerman," and let it go through to voicemail. She needed to get some work done today, after all. Her phone buzzed again.

Noah Fucking Puckerman:

Answer ur phone. Important.

Sent: Friday, July 9, 3:20pm

Crackling could be heard through her desk phone.

"Santana? Noah Puckerman on line two for you," her assistant said. "Should I tell him you're in a meeting?"

"No, it's fine, I'll take it." Santana picked up the phone. "What do you want now, Puckerman?"

"Just making sure you weren't going to bail on me, like last time, Queerio."

"That joke stopped being funny when we graduated high school, Puck. And no, I'm not bailing," she said, holding the phone between her ear and her chin while she filed her nails. "Although there has been a little bit of a glitch…"

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Brittany and Rachel are coming…"

"No way. So not cool. You cannot go with your wife to a strip club! It like, defeats the purpose of going in the first place, or whatever. And why would Rachel even want to go with us?"

"I don't know, Puck, but that's it. Either Brittany comes or I'm not allowed to go." As soon as the word slipped out of her mouth she regretted it, shutting her eyes tightly.

"Excuse me? Can you repeat that?"

"No."

"Santana Lopez isn't allowed to go?"

"Just drop it, Puck."

"Santana Lopez who once told Darren Aronofsky that if he even thought about butchering her client's script, like he was suggesting, that she would shove his balls so far up his ass that the next time he tried to shoot off some knuckle babies they would be coming out of his tear ducts?" Santana smirked. "Who made two executives at Disney quit, one of whom left town, the other of whom appeared to have wet his pants, after a closed-door meeting about royalties for one of her clients?"

"I'll never tell what happened that day, Puck, so don't bother trying…"

"Santana Lopez, who got me my asking rate for the film I'm currently working on just by looking at the executive in the eyes?"

"How could I justify making you buy all of our drinks tonight if I didn't make sure you were making a grotesque $13 million to run in front of a green screen and occasionally yell obscenities at actors in police officer costumes?" Puck chose to ignore this.

"Yet, little, sweet, Brittany probably just looked at you and you caved. Did you even put up a fight?"

"Of course!"

"What, did you say 'no' once and she pouted?"

"No!" Santana said. "God, why does everyone think I'm so fucking whipped?" Puck laughed.

"Because no one has ever seen anyone so whipped. And that's totally what happened. Whatever. I'll pick you ladies up at 10." Puck hung up the phone. Santana looked at her phone. It was 3:30 on a Friday, and it was becoming apparent that she had gotten no work done so far that day, and that she probably wouldn't get any done in the next couple hours. Plus it was Friday. Don't people leave work early on Friday? She pushed a button on the phone in her desk.

"Natalie?"

"I'm here!" Her assistant replied.

"I'm going home. It's Friday," Santana justified. "You should get out of here too. Enjoy your weekend."

"Thanks, Santana!" Santana packed up her briefcase and headed home.