Author's Note: I'm glad so many of you seem to be okay with long chapters, because here goes another one...it's a lot of Brittana fluff, sorry about that, but I'm setting up for some epicness to go down in the next couple chapters. And to my Faberry readers, please be patient with me! It will all unfold...thank you all again for your lovely reviews!

"Britts, you have to get up," Santana said, tying her robe and throwing Brittany's robe on the bed. Brittany just mumbled. "Brittany, baby, please wake up," Santana said, gently nudging Brittany's shoulder. "BRITTANY SUSAN PIERCE-LOPEZ. GET THE FUZZLE OUT OF BED."

"Ugh, San. I hate you. You're ruining my life." Brittany moaned, covering her head with a pillow.

"Do you hear it out there? It's mayhem!" Santana said as Brittany climbed out of bed and threw her robe over her naked body. Santana kissed her neck. "Let's go."

They walked into the hall. Lola was whining in the kitchen, blocked by a doggy gate. Nico and Olivia were screaming in their bedroom. Every time Lola barked, the toddlers screamed more.

"How do you want to do this?" Santana asked.

"I'll go get the kids, you go to the kitchen, turn on the coffee maker, and put a leash on Lola." Santana nodded and Brittany walked towards Nico and Olivia's room. Ten minutes later, she had both children changed and walked into the kitchen, climbing over the gate. The coffee machine was going and Santana was sitting at the kitchen table, furiously scrubbing her feet.

"I stepped in dog pee, Britt! She peed in the house."

"She's a puppy, San," Brittany said, softly. Santana glared. Brittany kissed her forehead. "Here you go," she said, handing Nico to Santana. "Take Lola out…"

"She already peed, Britt."

"I've told you a million times, this is how we train her not to pee in the house." Brittany said, trying her best to control her annoyance. Santana rolled her eyes, taking her son. She grabbed Lola by her leash and opened the doggy gate, slipping on her flip-flops before she walked out the door. She walked down to the curb, and closed her eyes, yawning. Her son stuck his hand in her mouth mid yawn, pulling on her lip.

"Mami," he said.

"Yup. That's me. Mami." She said, yawning again, not bothering to open her eyes.

"Good morning, Santana!" She shot her eyes open to find the hot young actress neighbor from across the street waving at her. Santana meekly waved back. "He's getting big!" Santana nodded. "Well have a nice day!" She got in her Mini Cooper convertible and drove off. Santana rolled her eyes and picked the newspaper off of the ground. She took inventory of herself. Hair: disheveled. Makeup: remnants of yesterday's smeared across her face. Clothing: robe. Shoes: flip-flops. Accessories: newspaper, toddler, bag of dog poop. What had Brittany done to her? She turned to walk back up the path to the house.

"What do we need to learn to say to mama?" She asked her son.

"No," Nico said.

"¿Qué es lo que tenemos que aprender a decir a mama?" Santana asked again.

"No," Nico said. Santana kissed her son's cheek.

"Bueno, mijo," she said, "we need someone around here who can say no to that woman." She led them back in the house. Brittany was cooking breakfast, so Santana let the puppy off of the leash and put Nico in his playpen with his sister. Santana poured coffee for both of them.

"Need help?" Brittany nodded.

"Almost done, can you just set the table?" Santana set the table and then helped Brittany bring the food over and then put the toddlers in their high chairs. They fed them bites of mashed egg yolks and avocado and mashed bananas in between bites of their own food.

"Bueno," Nico said as he swallowed his food. Santana grinned from ear to ear at her son. She pointed at the food.

"Los huevos y aguacate, mijo."

"Huevos…" Nico repeated. Brittany looked in awe at her wife.

"He's speaking Spanish, San," Brittany said. Santana grinned at Brittany.

"This is the first time he's said anything when he's not just repeating me!"

"Your mom's going to be so happy when she gets here!"

"We'll see…" Santana said. "You do know huevos is Spanish slang for balls…" Brittany laughed. "With our luck, the minute my mother arrives miraculously their growing vocabulary will be reduced to just boobs and huevos." Brittany threw her head back in laughter.

"Huevos," Olivia said. Brittany's laughter grew louder. Santana rolled her eyes.

"So…what's the plan today, babe?" Brittany asked.

"Busy. The plan is busy. I have meetings all morning, and Puck is being a giant bitch when it comes to this new role his agent lined up for him. I just can't fathom that he wants more money than he already gets to go to work everyday and run in front of a green screen."

"He'll get it though, right? I mean, teenage girls want to date him, and teenage boys want to be him."

"I just don't understand it."

"Well, we both slept with him when we were teenagers."

"Don't remind me."

"And then I'm having lunch at Quinn's which should be terrible. I have a meeting in Burbank and then I'm picking my mom up at LAX."

"Want me to pick her up? That way you can spend some more time with Q?"

"That'd be great, if you have time."

"I'm just choreographing a fantasy dance number for some hospital show over in Glendale."

"What should we do with my mom?"

"I have everything planned out, don't worry, babe. Plus, I'm sure she really just wants to spend time with her grandbabies…" Santana shot Brittany a skeptical smile. "Trust me, babe…now go take a shower, you have a busy day!"

Santana didn't want to admit it, but there was something comforting about being at work these days. She obviously loved her wife and her children, anyone with half a brain could see that. At the end of the day, however, Santana was still Santana, and she wanted to yell. She wanted to argue, threaten, and curse. She wanted to wear impossibly high pumps (that she may or may not have paid over a grand for) and yell at short, old men until she got her way. Work was the perfect venue for this. The more people who left her office crying, the more successful she knew she was being at her job. She saw no reason her clients and coworkers needed to know that she spent her after hours time in sweatpants, watching Disney cartoons, and cuddling with her wife and children.

Santana threw briefcase on her desk after her meeting with Puck.

"Santana. I don't even know what to do with you!" Puck said, taking a seat at Santana's desk.

"I don't know what that means, Puckerman."

"It means that I never expected to get that exorbitant amount of money for any role!"

"Well, that douchebag, fresh out of USC, executive who probably got his job through daddy didn't know what the fuck he was doing. He saw me and my weave and my heels and assumed he had it in the bag. He didn't know who he was dealing with."

"I think he pissed himself, Santana."

"Wouldn't be the first time a young executive urinated in his pants during a meeting with me. It probably won't be the last." Santana shrugged.

"You'd think they'd know by know not to send a rookie into a meeting with you."

"You'd think that, right?" Santana had secretly taken her shoes off under her desk. You'd think with the technology today they'd have found a way to make six inch heels remotely comfortable. Especially if you've paid $1200 for them.

"Let me buy you lunch. Please. You just made me so much money. Lunch is the least I can do."

"I get a percentage of that money, let me remind you, Puckerman. And I already have lunch plans with Q."

"You were really great out there." Brittany looked up to see the star of a new hit hospital-meets-national security show approaching her.

"Thanks," Brittany said, continuing to pack her bag.

"I mean, it must have been hard working with a bunch of non-dancers, like us." Brittany just shrugged. "So, do you dance professionally, or are you strictly a choreographer? You're such a great dancer."

Brittany stood up and began walking down the hall toward the parking lot.

"I dance once and awhile, but I don't want to tour anymore, so mostly choreography now." They had made it to Brittany's Prius. She beeped the doors open.

"So, listen, I know this is really forward, and I'm sure you get this all the time, but would you like to get coffee or a bite to eat sometime?" Brittany threw her bag in the backseat and then just lifted her left hand, pointing to her ring finger. He simply shrugged.

"Married?" She said, confused as to why this didn't seem to dissuade the man. When he still didn't move, she pulled out her phone. The background image was of her and Santana. "Also, gay?" She added. He shrugged again, but then scrunched up his forehead.

"Your wife looks familiar. Is she an actress or something?"

"No. She's a lawyer."

"What kind of law?" Brittany scrunched her forehead again. She didn't want to be embarrassed, yet again, because she couldn't remember what kind of law her wife practiced. It was hard though…it would be one thing if the words Santana used to describe what she did meant anything to her, but unfortunately, everything involving Santana's job sounded like Latin to Brittany. She was kind of sure that it was Latin. She tried to remember what Santana had helped memorized after the last time she was in this situation. The guy was still looking at her confused when the lightbulb went on in Brittany's head. She grinned.

"Entertainment law. She's a transactional attorney, specializing mostly in talent agreements, but her firm handles general intellectual property issues, as well," Brittany spit out. She had no idea what she had just said, but she was confident it was word-for-word what Santana told her. She didn't understand why people didn't accept her usual explanation: Santana makes sure that people don't steal each others' shit, and that actors make as much money as possible so she can buy me nice things. It sure made a hell of lot more sense than whatever she just said. The man was looking at her quizzically now. Maybe he didn't understand either. He did seem kind of dumb…what kind of adult doesn't know that a ring on the left hand means married.

"What's your name again?" He asked, his confusion turning into mild worry.

"Brittany," she replied, again confused. First he asks her out, now he doesn't even remember her name? And people thought she could be dense… "Brittany Pierce-Lopez."

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Santana Pierce-Lopez. She's your wife?" Brittany nodded happily.

"You know her? I'll tell her we met!"

"NO. No, please, no need to mention it. No need to tell her we've ever spoken. It was very nice meeting you, Brittany. Have a lovely day." He lightly jogged away from her car. Brittany smirked as she got in. Her wife could scare men away from her even without being present. Now, that is talent.

Quinn finished her third cup of coffee of the day. Really, what she wanted was a drink, but she was trying to be better about not using alcohol as a means to quell any remotely awkward social situation. Although, one glass of wine couldn't possibly hurt, right? And, it was almost after noon, which everyone knew was officially appropriate time to start drinking. Alone. In your house. No, she would have to wait for that drink. It was moments like these that she really wished she drank less on a regular basis so that she could justify drinking early in the day when a drink was in dire need. Luckily she fought the urge, because just then her doorbell rang. At least Santana wouldn't catch her day drinking and carrying on a lesbian affair all in one week.

"Hey, Q." Santana said as Quinn opened the door.

"Hey," Quinn said, letting her friend in.

"You want to just order in?"

"Sure."

"Where was that place we used to order pizza from in college? It was fucking delicious."

"Tomato Pie? Garage Pizza? Mulberry Street Pizza? Enzo's? Vito's?"
"Enough, Q. We clearly ate too much pizza in college. Just pick a place."

"The usual?"

"Obviously."

Quinn sat down at the kitchen table after they placed the order (extra cheese, pepperoni, sausage, peppers, onions, and mushrooms). She tried to ignore Santana's feet up on the table.

"So here's how this is going to work, Q. I cancelled my afternoon meetings, and Britt is going to pick my mom up from the airport, so I don't have to be home until six, that's around when the girls' get home too, right?" Quinn nodded. "I'm not going to yell at you, but I expect you to be honest with me."

"Don't pull some weird lawyer/therapist shit with me, Santana."

"I'm not. You didn't let me finish. I'm pulling some best friend from college shit. And what would we do when one of us was having a rough time in college?" Quinn raised her eyebrow. "It's not a rhetorical question, Q. What would we do?"

"Get wasted, eat foods with a high caloric count, eventually talk and then punch each other?"

"Exactly."

"I don't know if that's the most productive way to spend a midweek afternoon."

"It's not. But maybe it will get you to actually start talking to me. So pop open a bottle of wine and let's get this show on the road."

An hour later Quinn finished her third piece of pizza, and her third glass of wine. It was 12:30 in the afternoon.

"I fucking hate you, Santana."

"Fuck you, bitch."

"Fuck you." Quinn didn't have a retort to the second "fuck you" so they just sat in silence. "What the fuck is going on with you, Q?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, don't play that bullshit card with me. You know exactly what I mean."

"All I know is that you're a bitch and you're testing me Santana Pierce-Lopez. I'm too old for his bullshit."

"Well, Quinn Fabray-Scott, we have two hours before we have to stop drinking to sober up, so you best start talking. Bitch."

"Don't make me hit you."

"I'd like to see you try."

"You know, sometimes you question where Lily gets her violent tendencies from."

"Sorry, San," Quinn said sheepishly, readjusting the frozen steak she had over Santana's eye.

"It's cool, but now you definitely have to talk to me."

"I just don't know what you want to talk about it."

"Well, why don't you start by telling me the truth?"

"I think you heard the truth while you were eavesdropping."

"Okay, but I want to hear the truth. From the horse's mouth."

"I'm sleeping with Rachel, okay, Santana! I'm sleeping with her and it's casual and I like it and it sure beats my absent husband." Santana didn't know what to do with the bluntness of her friend, so they sat in silence.

"Do you have any idea of the implications of your actions, Quinn?" Santana finally said.

"Of course I do!"

"No, I really don't think you do."

"Santana, don't talk to me like I'm a child. I am fully aware of what I am doing."

"If you don't want to be treated like a child, then don't act like one! I hate to break it to you, Quinn, but you're not acting a day older than when you were a scared teenager telling Finn that he got you pregnant via hot tub."

"It's low to bring that up, and you know it, Santana."

"I'm just telling the truth, which is something you apparently are incapable of doing."

"Well, then why don't you enlighten me as to what exactly the truth is, since I'm apparently incapable of doing that in my own life."

"The truth, Quinn? The truth is that you're acting like a child. This in not some three month relationship where you can make out with Finn in the auditorium, and the only repercussions were Sam hurting for a few weeks. Moving beyond the emotional damage you are most likely doing to Rachel and yourself right now, and the fact that we're talking about a 12 year relationship here, let's talk about the logistical fall out from your so-called casual affair. What happens if you get caught, Quinn, especially by an outsider? Your husband is a famous football player and your mistress is an up and coming actress. I work in the industry. I know how these things work. Imagine the magazines…Rachel Berry: Lesbian Homewrecker, or Justin Scott Not Man Enough For His Wife Anymore…your kids will see this, their classmates will see this, your friends will see this. Rachel will have to fight against the reputation of being a lesbian actress and being a homewrecker. It doesn't matter that Rachel isn't gay, having it come out like this means that she won't get the luxury of defining her sexuality on her own terms. She will lose any male fanbase, and she will lose that precious straight married female fanbase. Your children will have to go through a messy and public divorce, and at the end of the day, you still won't know what you want anymore than you do right now." Quinn didn't say anything, just stared at Santana, obviously fighting back the tears welling in her eyes. Santana felt bad. Maybe she had pushed too far this time.

"I don't know what to do." Quinn finally croaked out.

"I know you don't, I know," Santana said, pulling her friend tightly to her as she broke down. "The thing is, Q, you're not going to figure it out simply by not thinking about it. I know we've never really talked about this…by the time we actually became close, I was out and gay and there was no real reason to rehash the past…but as much as I hated…still kind of hate…Artie, he was the best thing to ever happen to me."

"What do you mean?" Quinn asked, confused.

"Well, had Brittany and I just continued as we were going, sleeping together, not talking about our feelings, and not dating anyone else, I would have been happy and never thought about who I was. But Artie came along. And Artie took Brittany away from me. It wasn't until I didn't have Brittany anymore that I realized how much I needed her. Not having her made me realize that I didn't like being with boys. It forced me to think about who I was and who I wanted, because I couldn't fall back on a comfortable situation. Whether you're gay, or bi, or just have a weird thing for Berry, you're never going to be able to have all that you want, and all that you deserve, unless you figure out who you are. I would have continued to sleep with Brittany, but been so afraid of being gay that we could never have come out, never have gotten married, never have had our two wonderful children."

"When did you get to be so wise, Santana?"

"I've always been this wise. Usually I'm just too much of a bitch for anyone to notice."

"Thank you, Santana."

"No worries." Quinn pulled Santana into a tight hug. "Can I just ask one question though, Q?"

"Of course."

"Berry? Really?" Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Don't you have to be getting home?"

"Mami!" Santana yelled when she saw her mother sitting in the living room playing with her children.

"Mija! It's so good to see you!" Her mother exclaimed, giving Santana a kiss on the cheek. "My grandbabies have grown so much!" Santana nodded, giving each of her children a kiss on their cheeks.

"What do you want to do tonight, mami?" Santana asked.

"I'm thinking I'm going to babysit tonight." Santana raised her eyebrow at her mother.

"Babysit? What are you talking about?" She looked at her mother questioningly as Brittany entered the room in a gorgeous blue dress, heels, and her hair falling in loose curls around her face.

"I'm taking you out," Brittany said, simply. Santana couldn't find her words. "Go get changed." A few seconds passed, and Santana finally swallowed the lump in her throat and managed to form words.

"My mother is in town," was all she could say.

"Exactly," Maria said, smirking at her daughter's reaction to Brittany's outfit, "which is why it's the perfect time for her to take you out."

"But I want to spend time with you, mami."

"Mija, I've spent thirty years with your bad attitude. I want to spend some time with my adorable grandchildren," Maria said, playfully. "Besides, I am here for at least a week, we have plenty of time to spend together. Go get changed and have a nice night with your wife."

"Thanks, mami," Santana said, still a little confused. She walked down her hall to her room started to take of her work clothes as she looked at the dresses in her closet. Her brow furrowed in confusion. Did her mother just say she was going to be in town for more than a week? She was distracted when Brittany walked in.

"Wait, San, sit down," Brittany said, kneeling in front of her wife, her hands on both of her knees. "I need to talk to you about something."

"What's wrong, Britt, is everything okay?" Santana asked, gently touching Brittany's cheek. Brittany leaned her head into Santana's caress and then reached both of her hands up to cup Santana's face.

"Everything is perfect. I don't tell you that enough." Brittany choked a little, fighting back her tears. "I've never been the most vocal of people…you know, I have always struggled with my words, to make them make sense to anyone outside of my head."

"I always understand you, B."

"I know. But that doesn't make it okay. I don't thank you enough, I don't know how to tell you how much I appreciate all you do for me. Lately, we get so bogged down in the everyday annoyances of being adults, and I don't appreciate what you do for me as much as I should."

"Yes you do, Britt. And you know, I do what I do because I love you."

"I know. But you should know that you don't go unnoticed. That I may not have the vocabulary to express how much it means when you single-handedly renovated the garage into a dance studio. Or to thank you for financially supporting this family for years. That you make sure we go to the zoo at least once a month, that you help with every meal, that you make sure you tell me you love me every time you leave the house, that you got me a puppy because you know I've wanted one since I was like, six. You take me seriously, when no one else ever has. You let me decorate our house with animals, and you search for a silly bracelet I gave you when we were eleven years old for an entire day. I notice all of these things, San, even if I don't always have the words to express it. I love you more each and every day for all of these things. Even when our lives get busy, when our children are driving us up the wall and our bosses are treating us like pieces of dirt, you always make sure that I know that I am special and that I am loved." Santana couldn't keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Brittany was the only one who had ever been able to make her cry like this. "I never forget that, San. I've loved you since the day I first set eyes on you. The fact that you treat me so well, that you put me first, that you make sure that everything is always perfect for me is just icing on the cake. Because I love you. I wish I could be to you what you are to me. You could do none of those things and I will still love you as much as I did the first day I set eyes on you. And while, obviously, I love that you are undoubtedly whipped by me, I don't want you to forget that I am whipped by you too. I may not be able to show it the way you are, but I love you more than I knew was possible. You are my everything, Santana. I would go to the ends of the world to make you happy, and I don't show it, at least not the way you show me."

"You do, Brittany, you do." Brittany shook her head.

"I don't. Santana, I love you. I love you more than I knew was possible. I will never stop loving you. Even if you decide to start saying no to me every once and awhile."

"Impossible," Santana said, pulling her wife in for a kiss.

Quinn had gone into lunch with Santana expecting to ignore everything her friend said to her. Soon after Santana had left, the carpool dropped her children off and they ran around the house yelling and complaining about their days and fighting with each other. She got them calmed down and settled on their homework and began to cook dinner. Things were calm—things were routine. Quinn knew part of this was because she was mildly neurotic, but also part of it was because it was what children needed. She liked watching them like this. Yes, of course, every once in awhile she'd catch Lily pulling Hannah's hair, or Hannah sneakily logging on to instant message one of her friends, but their lives were normal, organized. Santana was right. Quinn didn't want to turn everyone's lives upside down for something she wasn't even sure she wanted. She picked up her phone and cradled it between her chin and her shoulder once all the food was heating on the stove.

"Hey, Rach."

"Quinn. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was wondering if you could come over tonight? That is if you're not hanging out with Sarah."

"I told you, Quinn, I'm not doing this anymore."

"I just want to talk."

"If I had a dollar for every time you said that…"

"You'd have three dollars."

"Fine. But really, just talking okay? Text me when you put the kids to bed and I'll come over."

"I can't believe you remembered this place, Britt."

"How could I forget?"

"I don't know…because I had? Because it's reminiscent of such a younger time, a poorer time, just, a different time, you know?"

"But you always loved it."

"Obviously. I can't believe Marty and Elayne are still playing here."

"I know. It's like they've actually found that immortality fountain or something. Plus, San, tonight is the night they take requests from singers. So you best be figuring out which standard you have up your sleeve…" Santana smirked as the waitress arrived and they ordered their food.

"You know I always do, B."

Quinn finished reading "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" for what may as well been the 1000th time in her adult life. She tucked Harper in and walked down the hall, texting Rachel as she walked. Her first inclination was to change into something more appealing, but she realized they really had to talk this time around. She peeked her head in her older daughters' bedrooms, happy to find both sound asleep. She walked downstairs. It was nine, and she poured herself a glass of wine.

Brittany couldn't help but smile as Elayne began playing a familiar opening on the piano and the trumpet chimed in. Marty stood at the microphone.

"Santana Pierce-Lopez," he said into the microphone, his voice as smooth as those on the radio. Santana approached the microphone.

"Living for you," Santana began, smiling at Brittany as she grasped the microphone. "Is easy to live, when you're in love. And I'm so in love. There is nothing in life but you." Santana smiled and swayed against the microphone. Someone passed a whiskey and water in her direction, which she happily accepted. It had been a long time since she had really sung in public. "I never regret the years that I'm giving. They're easy to give when you're in love. I'm happy to do, whatever I do for you." Santana fumbled with the mic stand, pulling the microphone out and then gesturing to Brittany, who rose from their table and they began to softly dance against each other.

"For you, maybe I'm a fool, but it's fun.

People say you rule me with one wave of your hand,

Darling, it's grand, they just don't understand." An instrumental interlude began and they swayed slowly against each other.

"Living for you, is easy living.

It's easy to live when you're in love,

And I'm so in love,

There's nothing in life but you." Santana finished the song to loud applause. She buried her head in Brittany's neck, slightly embarrassed.

"You still have it, baby," Brittany said, leading a smiling Santana back to her seat.

Quinn finished her second glass of wine when she heard the front door swing open. Finally, she thought to herself, straightening out her dress where she sat at the kitchen counter. She was going to get this over with.

"Surprise!" Justin said as he walked into the kitchen. Quinn's eyes went wide. "I know I've been saying that I would come home more often for years now, and I finally decided it was better to actually walk the walk for once, you know?"

"Oh my god, Justin, I…I…" her husband cut her off with a passionate kiss. More passionate than a kiss they'd shared for years.

"I finally managed to surprise Quinn Fabray," Justin said, satisfied. "You look beautiful, baby. I'm going to drop my stuff upstairs, want to meet me up there?" Quinn simply nodded as Justin turned to leave. Once she was satisfied he was safely upstairs, she pulled out her phone.

Rachel was sitting in her car in front of Quinn's house trying to decide what to do when her phone buzzed in her lap.

Quinn Fabray-Scott:

Justin came home. I'm sorry,

we have to postpone.

Rachel didn't know whether to respond or not. She looked over at Quinn's house. Not Quinn's house, she reminded herself. Quinn and Justin's house. She'd been sitting there since before Justin's car dropped him off at the airport, since before he walked into his home and before she saw Quinn embrace him in a tight hug. She didn't know why she was sitting there anymore. She turned her key in the ignition and started her car, pulling away without sending Quinn a reply text.

"Baby, this isn't the way home," Santana said as she watched her wife turn the wrong way down Hollywood Blvd. She was used to Brittany's lack of direction and didn't think twice about the mistake.

"Who said we were going home?" Brittany asked.

"It's late, babe, where else would we go?" Brittany didn't reply as they drove down Hollywood Blvd. "Brittany?"

"You worry too much, Santana." Brittany said as they drove.

"Britt, as much as I love the Tropicana, I really think we should be heading home," Santana said as they dropped their car at the valet at the Roosevelt Hotel.

"We're not going to the Tropicana."

"Well, then what are we doing here?" Brittany led her through the hotel to the concierge.

"We're here to check in," Brittany said, pulling her wallet out of her purse. Santana's eyes widened.

"Your name, ma'am?"

"Brittany Pierce-Lopez."

"Yes, that's going to be the Marilyn Suite," Brittany nodded, grinning. She glanced over at her wife who looked like a deer in headlights.

Santana still didn't speak as they got up to their room and Brittany tipped the porter. They entered the suite. There was champagne in an ice bucket on the table and strawberries in a bowl on the table. The suite had a view of the city.

"Britt…" Santana finally began.

"I thought you forgot how to speak." Brittany replied.

"I just…I just can't believe…"

"You deserve everything, too, Santana." Santana looked at her wife, and pulled her into a deep kiss.

Maria took her sleepy grandchildren to their bedroom after giving them a bath and slipping them into their soft, cloth diapers.

"Buenas noches, Nico," Maria said, petting the soft down on her grandson's head. "Buenas noches, Livi." Nico yawned and Olivia balled up her fists.

"Bueno," Nico said. Maria smiled. So, Santana was teaching them Spanish after all.

"Bueno," Olivia said.

"Huevos," Nico said. "Buenos los huevos," he continued. Olivia giggled. Okay, Maria thought, like her daughter and daughter-in-law, they must really like breakfast.

"Boobs," Olivia said as she shut her eyes.

"Buenos boobs." Nico said. Maria rolled her eyes, wondering why she thought children raised by her daughter and Brittany would fall asleep saying anything else. Her mind briefly flitted to all of her traumatizing Master Vampirate Santana images, but she managed to get them out of her head as she slipped into bed and fell asleep.

A/N: The song Santana sings is Easy Living. There are a lot of versions, but I was listening to the Billie Holiday version when I wrote this :)