A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Thanks for your reviews!
"Don't you think we see enough of the New Directions kids in real life, Britt?" Santana asked Brittany as they playfully fought for room in front of the mirror on Santana's vanity in her bedroom.
"This is the one time, once a year, that we all get together again, Santana."
"We see everyone important on a regular basis."
"I'm not arguing with you about this again. Also, I want to use your new lip gloss, the vanilla one that Jenny gave you." Brittany said, holding out her hand.
"I don't like her. She always gives me the weirdest gifts." Santana said, handing the lip gloss to Brittany's open palm.
"Don't change the subject," Brittany said, stopping to apply the lip gloss. "You know you always have a good time. Even though you pretend to hate it, I know you were close with Tina, who you never see, and you love Mr. Schue."
"Well, Mr. Schue doesn't love me."
"He came to our wedding."
"Well, everyone came to our wedding. For you." Santana said, turning to face Brittany. "Because you're perfect," she paused, placing a kiss on Brittany's ear, "and beautiful," she kissed Brittany's jaw line, "and smart," she finished with a kiss on her lips. Brittany squirmed away and struggled to hide her smile.
"You're messing up my lip gloss!" She said, leaning into the mirror to reapply. She turned toward her wife, her eyes serious. "Santana, we're not discussing this anymore. We've been out of high school for twelve years, and we've gone to this reunion every year. Why do we have to argue about it?"
"Because if we didn't argue, you'd think I was replaced by a pod person, and you'd try to kill me. So, I can't change my ways. It's self-preservation," Santana said, shrugging her shoulders and placing a sticky kiss on Brittany's forehead.
"Pod people aren't real," Brittany replied, rolling her eyes as she expertly worked a curling iron in the bottom of her hair.
"This, coming from the woman who has been trying to sell me on the existence of unicorns, fairies, and talking animals for the last twenty years." Santana said under her breath.
"I heard that, Santana," Brittany said, swinging around in the chair, "and I believe in positive mystical creatures. Positivity. Maybe I can teach you about it someday." Brittany said, playfully.
"Doubtful," Santana said, laying back on her bed.
"The point is, we're going, and I'm done talking about it."
"Ugh, fine," Santana said, sitting up and walking toward the door. "I'm going to get Nico from my mother. He's going to hate this as much as I am."
"Glad you can get a baby to agree with you, Santana!" Brittany yelled as Santana walked down the hall.
"There's just no reason for you to go to this anymore!" Quinn yelled at Justin, slamming her curling iron down on the table.
"Can't I go because I've gone for the last ten years? Because, perhaps, I've made relationships with these nerdy glee club kids you hold so dear to your heart?" He sneered out at her.
"I just don't understand why you feel the need to be there," Quinn said, lowering her voice. "Half of them know we're splitting up, I thought—" Quinn looked up at the ceiling, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "—I thought that it was clear after our conversation last night that this relationship is beyond repair. There is no reason to keep up the farce."
"Our children are the reason, Quinn," Justin said softly. "Look, I was honest with you last night. I'm not going to make a fool of myself fighting for you when you love someone else, but I don't want to lose my whole family. Please, just let me keep this tradition."
"I don't want you to come, Justin. But, I won't stop you, either."
"Thank you, Quinn." She didn't respond, and she didn't look up at him. After a moment she unplugged her curling iron and walked out of the door.
"What are you doing?" Hiram asked Rachel, walking into the living room with a salami sandwich wrapped in a napkin in his hand.
"Watching When Harry Met Sally," Rachel replied, briefly looking over her shoulder from her spot on the couch at her father.
"No, I mean why aren't you getting ready for the party?" Her father asked, taking a seat next to her.
"I don't think I'm going to go. Feeling a little under the weather, you know? You shouldn't be eating that, daddy."
"Feeling under the weather my ass," Hiram scoffed, taking a bite of his sandwich. "And I'm a grown man, I eat what I want!" He said through a mouthful.
"Dad would be unhappy."
"Well what your father doesn't know won't hurt him." They sat in silence, watching Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal stroll slowly through the park. "You should go to the party, Rachel."
"Why? I'd rather stay home with you." Rachel said, playfully rubbing her father's bald head.
"Well, as much as any parent loves to hear that, you're thirty-years-old, and I know that's a lie."
"I would never lie to you, daddy." Rachel said, faking precociousness.
"Darling, that may have worked when you were five, hell, it may have even worked when you were 16, but it's creepy at 30. Like, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane level of creepy."
"You compared me to Joan Crawford. I've never been so pleased." Rachel said with a smirk.
"I was thinking more Bette Davis, my dear. My, if only we knew the monster we were creating thirty years ago," Hiram said, playfully, wrapping his arm around his daughter's shoulder. They enjoyed the movie in silence, Hiram sneaking bites of his sandwich every now and then. "Rachel, it's very rare that you keep things from your dad and me, but I know that there's something going on with you that you don't want to talk about." He looked down at his daughter, hoping for a response. "I don't know what this falling out is that you've had with Quinn, and it's obvious that you're not going to tell me or your dad anytime soon, but whatever it is pales in comparison to spending the evening with your oldest friends, many of whom you haven't seen in a year, and all of whom had a hand in getting you to where you are today."
"I did this all on my own." Rachel said, playfully grinning at her father.
"I'm going to ignore that," her father said, grabbing the remote and shutting off the TV. "Go upstairs, Rachel, put on some clothes, get yo face did, yo hair did, and get out there," Hiram said, grinning. Rachel laughed at his fake accent.
"Okay," she smiled. "You're right, I shouldn't let Quinn get me down. I didn't for four years in high school, why start today?"
"That's the spirit, honey!"
"Santana, I swear if you don't stop complaining, your not getting any for a month once we get back to LA," Brittany snapped at her, adjusting Nico on her hip as they walked up the path toward the Hummel-Hudson's. They each had one child under one arm and a bag of gifts in the other. Santana was particularly struggling with a large Bloomingdale's bag that kept knocking her leg.
"That's an empty threat, Britt. I know you can't last a month anymore than I can."
"I'll just take care of myself."
"You won't be able to do that with the temptation of this smokin' hot body next to you in bed."
"I won't have to worry about it because you will be sleeping on the couch." Brittany replied, pushing the doorbell. "I'm just asking you, Santana," Brittany sighed again, "to attempt to be pleasant for the duration of the evening."
Before Santana could complain anymore, Carol swung open the door.
"Santana! Brittany! It's wonderful to see you again! And, oh my god, is this Nico and Olivia? They've grown so much since last year."
"I know!" Brittany said, hugging Carol and then Burt. Santana followed.
"Let me take your coats," Carol said as they took off layers of unnecessary winter wear, so unused to the cold weather after years in LA. Santana handed Carol a bottle of wine and they nervously entered the house.
Now, it's not that Santana didn't like her fellow glee club members. On the contrary, she recognized Glee Club as a high point in her high school experience. She couldn't, however, escape the notion that they all still hated her. She knew that 12 years had passed since they said goodbye to McKinley, and that she spent much of her senior year making amends for the mistakes of the previous three. Something about being back in Lima always initially put her ill-at-ease, funneling her back to an insecure teenager who was convinced her world would crumble around her if she were honest about herself.
"You okay, Santana?" Brittany asked, concerned at how unusually long Santana had been silent.
"I'll be fine," Santana said, nuzzling into Olivia's head.
"How are my favorite lesbians doing?" Puck asked, approaching Brittany and Santana. "And my favorite lesbabies?" Brittany took Olivia from Santana, now cradling both children in her arms.
"Don't call them that, Puckerman." Santana said. "Where the f have you been, lately?" Before he could respond, Brittany had run off to the other side of the room to see Artie and Blaine, both children in her arms. Santana rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Puck. "I just assumed you realized what a pathetic existence you'd been living and checked into the Chateau Marmont to off yourself months ago. Britt said they would have called the police when they smelled your dead body, but you pretty much smell like a corpse anyway."
"Aw, I missed you too, Santana. And I've been around. Taking this precious time between jobs to make sure I keep my tan going by visiting the many tropical locations this fine world has to offer. Offering the exquisite services of the Puckerman to ladies around the globe. I've gone international."
"You missed Thanksgiving."
"So?"
"We always do Thanksgiving."
"Well, I'm sorry that you've gotten all domesticated and shit, but I have a reputation to uphold and was busy wooing the beautiful ladies of Jamaica over Thanksgiving. You really should ditch the wifey and hit that shit up, Santana. You would have a fucking field day with these women. Second only to the beautiful women of Brazil, which I also recommend you put on your bucket list."
"You're such a dick, Puckerman.
"But I'm your dick, sweetheart," Puck said, wrapping his arm around Santana's shoulder. Santana threw his arm off of her.
"One: don't touch me. Two: don't ever call me sweetheart, or any weird pet name. Three: I don't have, need, or want a dick, Puckerman. Thank God I realized I am a lesbian."
"Looks like someone is still a little testy about spending time with the glee kids. Get over it, Santana! No one cares that you were a bitch in high school anymore!"
"I know. I'm fine, Puck," Santana said, scanning the room for Brittany and her children. "Just leave me alone, okay?" Santana looked up at him with fierce, yet wide eyes, and stormed away, arms tight across her chest.
"I don't want to go in, mom," Hannah said, shoving her hands into her pockets.
"I know you don't dear, but we go every year and you always have fun."
"No, I don't. The only kids my age are stupid Joni and Max. Everyone else are babies like Lily and Harper," Hannah huffed out, referring to Tina's daughter and Will's son.
"You know you always have fun with Joni and Max, baby girl," Justin said, pushing on the doorbell. The bell barely rang before Finn swung it open, his big grin still on his face.
"Quinn! Justin! Come in!" Finn said, ushering the group into the house. The adults shared the requisite cheek kisses and hugs and then wriggle the girls out of their winter gear. Quinn tried to ignore the icy glare Finn's wife always had on her as she said hello to their toddler.
"The Eagles are killing it this year," Finn said to Justin, pulling him off to the side in what was sure to be an epic conversation about football. Her daughters all ran off to say hi to their favorite "aunts and uncles" and Quinn stood alone in the foyer. This was the kind of night where she definitely deserved a glass of wine.
Brittany watched Blaine skip off to help Rachel with the karaoke machine.
"Do you want to hold one of them?" Brittany asked Artie. "They're getting kind of heavy." She readjusted her grip on her wriggling toddlers. "They're starting to get more…movey…for their own good. I think Santana might have a heart attack. We thought we lost Nico the other day. He was in a cabinet with a pot on his head. Her mom's house isn't baby-proofed. Don't tell anyone I told you that. It makes us sound like bad moms. And we're not bad moms. Our house is childproofed…and it was kind of cute. Maybe I should just get Santana." Artie smiled at Brittany's long rant.
"No, Britt, it's fine, I can hold one of them." Brittany handed Olivia to Artie and he playfully, if tentatively, bounced her up and down in his lap.
"She's beautiful, Brittany," Artie said, bouncing a giggling Olivia in his lap. "They're both beautiful. She looks just like you."
"I know. And this one," Brittany said, gesturing to her son, "somehow managed to get all of Santana's attitude without any of her genetics." Artie laughed. He was almost positive the baby was scowling at him.
"I can definitely see that."
"Rae!" Hannah squealed out, seeing Rachel attempting to set up a karaoke machine with Blaine.
"Hey, sweetheart," Rachel said, kneeling down to pull the little girl into a hug. "Is that the sweater I got you?" Rachel asked, pointing to the unicorn sweater Hannah was wearing. Hannah nodded rapidly.
"It's the best, Rachel!"
"Oh, I'm glad you like it, honey. You want to help me and Blaine set up this machine?"
"Well, I told Joni I'd play her new video game with her. But, what's it for? It looks like Lily's amp, and if that's what it is, I really don't want any part of it."
"No, it's a karaoke machine. It plays music so that you can sing to it." Hannah's eyes lit up.
"Then I'm definitely in!" Hannah said, grinning toothily up at Rachel. Rachel laughed and ruffled the little girl's hair.
Santana lingered by herself in the corner, playing with a carrot. She considered going over to talk to Mercedes and Tina, but just as she was about to move, Lauren Zizes approached them. There was no way she was going over there now. Zizes still hated her. She scanned the room. Quinn was staring longingly at Rachel and Justin was talking to Mike but staring sadly at Quinn and there was no way Santana wanted to deal with that can of worms right now. Rachel appeared to be singing while Blaine beat boxed and set up the karaoke machine. Joni, Hannah and Max danced excitedly around them. There was no way she was touching that hot mess of performers with a six foot pole. Karofsky, Karofsky's boyfriend, and Sam were laughing about something that was probably too gay boy for Santana's taste. Artie and Brittany were laughing, while Artie bounced her daughter up and down in his lap.
"You really have to move past this anger toward Artie, Santana," Kurt said approaching Santana from behind.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Porcelain."
"Well, you've been standing here pretending to eat this carrot and sending daggers in their direction for the last 15 minutes."
"Whatever. I have a right to be mad. He's the only person she ever loved other than me. I've never loved anyone other than Brittany."
"I think that's the most honest you have ever been with me, Mrs. Lopez-Pierce." Kurt said smugly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"It's Pierce-Lopez. And everyone's right. Having children is making me soft."
"Look, Santana, can we be real here? Brittany married you. She had children with you. And, if I'm not mistaken, she continued sleeping with you while she was dating Artie, so their relationship never could have meant that much to her." Santana shrugged. "So why don't you make nice? I'm sure Brittany would appreciate it."
"I don't want to."
"Are you seven, Santana? Look, I know these things aren't the easiest for you, especially being around members of the glee club who haven't had the opportunity to see you grow and change over the last twelve years," Kurt said, glancing over at Lauren. "But no one expects you to be the same Santana from McKinley. You need to let that go, and let them all see the new you. You're not Santana Lopez, closeted Cheerio bitch anymore. Frankly, Santana, you're the only one holding on to that."
"That was weirdly accurate, Porcelain." Santana said, raising her eyebrows at Kurt.
"Well, you may or may not have drunkenly cried to me about your innermost high school feelings last New Years Eve, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez," Kurt said, smirking.
"I hate my life," Santana said.
"No, you don't, you love your life. Your life is pretty awesome."
"True."
"So, go make nice with Artie over there."
"I'll think about it," Santana said.
"Hey, mama, why you hiding out back here?" Mercedes asked, approaching Quinn.
"I should be calling you mama, these days. On a scale from one to ten, how excited are you guys right now?" Quinn asked, gently placing a hand on Mercedes' baby bump.
"Ten." Mercedes replied, her grin as big as it could be. "So, now you tell me, on a scale from one to ten, how painful is it going to be."
"It's a piece of cake," Quinn said, shrugging her shoulders. "I mean, I've done it four times."
"Oh, girl, why do you even try lying to me anymore?" Quinn laughed softly.
"Okay, so maybe it hurts a little."
"Brittany told me it was like pulling a football out of your nose. She said it felt like her vagina was being ripped into a million pieces and that when they gave her the episiotomy she prayed for death and that she would at least get to see Santana in heaven. She said it was the first time she managed to stay awake while praying but it was only because her body was being torn apart in the most violent manner imaginable. She also told me she caused three hairline fractures on Santana's left hand and a complete break on Santana's third metacarpal so Santana's assistant had to do the typing for her for a month." Quinn couldn't contain her smile as Mercedes finished her rant.
"She's right," Quinn said, quietly. "It does feel like all of those things. You'll probably cry and scream and yell at your husband for doing this to you. But, after all the pain, the doctor will hand you this beautiful baby that you've been growing inside of you for nine months and you'll think to yourself that you'd go through it all again, and ten-fold, if it means you can bring this beautiful life into the world."
"That's what Brittany said too. She told me that all of that pain didn't matter. She never felt so whole, so in a place of understanding with the world as the moment she watched Santana sit down on her hospital bed with their children in her arms."
"Their family," Quinn said, softly.
"Yeah. Their family. Now, tell me, Quinn, what's going on with your family?"
"It's a long story."
"Well, lucky I don't have any place to be."
"Hi, Artie. It's nice to see you." Santana said, wrapping her arm around Brittany's waist.
"Santana! It's really nice to see you too!" Artie said, nervously adjusting his glasses.
"Mami!" Olivia whined from Artie's lap. Santana waggled her fingers at her daughter.
"Hey, baby!" Santana said. "You having fun with Uncle Artie?" Olivia nodded.
"Mami, mami, mami!" Olivia continued to whine. "Up! Up! Boobs!" Santana blushed. Artie laughed out loud.
"You know it, girl," he said, trying to high-five the baby.
"Ugh, Artie, give me my daughter. This is what I get for trying to play nice."
"Hey, she said it, not me."
"That's fair, I guess." Santana replied, still mildly appalled at her childrens' limited vocabulary,
"How's life?" She asked, picking up her daughter.
"Oh, it's really great, thanks for asking! I'm still working as an engineer on set design in New York. It's great because I get to combine my love of science and the stage."
"And how are things with the wifey?"
"They're great, Santana. How's lawyering your way around Los Angeles?"
"Stressful, as always, but fulfilling. It's nice to get to yell at people and get paid for it." The three sat in awkward silence. "Well, I told Kurt I'd help him get the karaoke machine out, but it was nice talking to you, Artie," Santana said, leaving to find a smirking Kurt.
"Wow." Artie said. "I think that is the most Santana has ever spoken to me."
"She hates to admit it, but having children has made her soft."
"Are you happy, Brittany?" Artie asked, bouncing Olivia on his lap.
"I am. Happier than I thought was possible. Are you?" Artie nodded.
"Definitely."
"That's all that matters then, right?"
"Definitely," Brittany reiterated.
"Santana! I've been looking for you all night!" Dave said, pulling Santana into a bear hug and lifting her off the ground. Santana immediately began slapping and screaming at him.
"Just because you're an ogre, Dave, does not mean you are allowed to pick me up!"
"I just missed you! And you're so tiny." Dave said, placing her back down and straightening his salmon colored tie.
"You know how I feel about you calling me tiny." Santana crossed her arms in front of her chest. She nodded her head over to the confused looking man next to him.
"I'm sorry, Santana, this is my boyfriend, Jeffrey, Jeffrey, this is my ex-girlfriend, Santana." Santana rolled her eyes, and Jeffrey raised his eyebrows at her.
"Ex-girlfriend. Nice one, Karofsky." She scoffed at him. "Let me clarify," she said, touching Jeffrey's forearm, "we were each other's beards. So we could win prom king and queen. So, that I could get my best friend to dump her boyfriend and date me."
"And so Santana, here, wouldn't out me. She was such a sweetheart in high school, weren't you, Tana?"
"Irrelevant detail, David," she said. She really didn't need to hear about the questionable things she had done in high school right now.
"Oh, don't worry, girl, I understand. We all do things we're not proud of when we're trapped in that proverbial closet." Jeffrey said. Santana cracked a small smile at him.
"You don't have to tell me." Santana replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
"Did it work? Did she dump her boyfriend?"
"No. At least not then. I didn't win prom queen, Dave won king, Kurt," Santana said, gesturing over to where Kurt and Sam seemed involved in a serious conversation, "won queen, and I stayed in the closet."
"I'm assuming you're out now, though?" Jeffrey asked, looking a little concerned. Dave put his arm around Jeffrey's shoulder.
"You see that hot blond talking to the pregnant black girl and the guy in the wheelchair?"
"The one with the toddlers?" Karofsky nodded.
"That's the best friend. Brittany." Jeffrey winced at Santana.
"I'm sorry, girl, that must be hard, seeing her here. She's smokin' hot." Santana smirked and Karofsky rolled his eyes and laughed.
"It's not rough, honey," he said to Jeffrey, "they've been married for, what is it now, Santana, five years?" Santana nodded. "Together, officially, for 13, and those are their twins."
"Nicolas and Olivia," Santana interjected, looking proudly at her babies.
"And more on the way, right, Santana?" Santana's eyes slowly widened with disbelief.
"Jesus! What is wrong with you people? You'd think, thirty-years-old, you'd learn to stop gossiping like a bunch of twelve-year-olds. And no, I'm not pregnant, Dave. Who said something? Was it Quinn? You don't need to tell me, I know it was that bitch." Karofsky and Jeffrey were doubled over laughing.
"No one said anything, Santana." Karofsky said as he gasped for breath through his laughter. "I was just speculating. Although, thank god I live across the country from you because I do not want to be around you pregnant."
"I don't know why I ever dated you."
"I was a good beard." They made eye contact and grinned.
"Yeah, you were kind of the best." Santana replied, enjoying her moment with Dave. "Now, tell me, Jeffrey, how did you meet Mr. Karofsky, here?"
Quinn stood alone in the corner of the living room, absentmindedly dipping her celery into some ranch dressing over and over again. Mercedes had been pulled from their conversation by Brittany and Artie. Justin was deep in conversation with Mike, Puck, and Finn, probably talking football, with Lily clinging to his leg. Santana was laughing with Karofsky and his boyfriend off in the opposite corner. Hannah was singing karaoke on the other side of the room with Blaine and Rachel. Quinn sighed out loud as she watched Santana talk with Karofsky. Quinn decided to walk into the kitchen, in an attempt to get some solace from the group.
The thing was, they had all been a little mean in high school. Sure, people like her and Santana bore the brunt of the blame. Dave had a lot of apologizing to do before he finally was redeemed in the eyes of the glee club. But, the fact was, they all had been mean, in their small ways. Brittany played dumb to manipulate Rachel. Rachel called Santana a stripper and everyone else called her Satan. They all, also, had their moment of redemption. All except Quinn, it seemed. Or maybe she was just feeling down on herself again. Dr. Phillips would tell her not to project her feelings into the minds of the others, but she couldn't help but feel that everyone in that room thought she was a heartless bitch. She poured herself a glass of wine and shut her eyes, trying to prepare herself to go back out there.
"It's just so wonderful to see you all every year, it really means so much to me," Mr. Schuester said, his arm around Emma's waist.
"You too, Mr. Schue," Mercedes replied, letting her head rest on her husband's shoulder.
"Guys, you really have to stop calling me Mr. Schue. If my math is correct, most of you should be thirty by now?"
"Ugh, don't remind us," Santana said, smiling.
"I'm just saying, it's well past time you start calling me Will."
"You'll always be Mr. Schue to us, though," Rachel pointed out. Mr. Schuester put his hands up to his chest.
"You know, it just means so much to a teacher to see his students grow and evolve and become young adults. Mercedes here with a successful career in the music industry, Rachel, a star on Broadway and now in film, Kurt, bringing his fashion to the world. Who here doesn't think it feels like just yesterday that Santana and Brittany were shyly singing to one another in our little choir room," he said, gesturing over to the two women, each holding a child in their arms. Santana smiled shyly at Brittany and then at the group. "And now, here they are, a successful lawyer and dancer, married, with two beautiful children."
"It really is amazing. I mean, who knew Santana had anything but bitch in her?" Mercedes said laughing.
"I know," Sam said through laughter, "I don't think anyone would have imagined when she was mercilessly teasing us in that choir room that she would be one of the first to become doting mother of two." Santana put on her work smile, what used to be her Cheerios smile, as they laughed about her bitchy behavior in high school. She could feel Brittany trying to catch her eye, but she knew if she looked she would not be able to keep the smile up, so she kept her eyes focused on the ground as they laughed about high school.
"Well, as amusing as it is to relive Santana before she got all soft on us, I think I'm going to get a refill of that delicious wine Noah brought. Does anyone need anything?" Rachel asked. Everyone shook their head and she left for the kitchen.
"Hey," Rachel said as she walked into the kitchen, her glass of wine firmly gripped in her fist. She paused, visibly unsure whether or not she should continue into the room.
"Hi, Rachel," Quinn said softly through a smile.
"What are you doing in here? Everyone is in the living room, reliving Santana's bitch days."
"I'm sure she's really enjoying that." Quinn said softly, the tinge of sarcasm barely evident in her voice.
"Have you tried this wine, Quinn? Noah brought it back from Argentina," she said as she topped off her glass. "He's been quite the globetrotter lately. It's a Malbec. As you know, I'm generally more of a white wine drinker myself," Rachel paused briefly to take a sip from her glass, "but I might have to make an exception for this. Reds have, what is it called? That make you sneeze?"
"Sulfites," Quinn said, barely containing a small smirk at Rachel's rant.
"That's right. Reds have more sulfites. They make me sneeze and I can't really work if I'm congested so I tend to avoid them." Rachel finished taking a sip from her glass.
"Well, I haven't tried Puck's wine yet," Quinn said, not sure where to go from here in their conversation. They stood in silence for a moment.
"I'm really sorry about last night." Rachel said, simply.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Rach," Quinn replied, looking into her own wine glass as she swirled the red liquid around in circles. "You were right. I had no right to tell you I missed you. I had my chance, and I threw it away. I made a lot of mistakes, Rachel." Quinn said, finally looking up to meet Rachel's eyes. "I make a lot of mistakes. I…I feel bad for myself, a lot of the time, and I use it as an excuse to treat other people poorly. I'm trying to not do that anymore. So, I'm sorry, Rachel. I'm sorry for making you think you didn't matter to me as much as you did."
"It's okay, Quinn. I understand. You have a family, you have other people to think about."
"It's not okay, Rachel!" Quinn said, her voice cracking midway through her sentence. "You've always put up with my bullshit. You supported me while I was pregnant with Beth. I slapped you at our Junior Prom and you dabbed away my tears. You have no reason to be kind to me, yet you always are, and, yeah, you can be really selfish and annoying when it comes to the professional stuff, but when it comes to the personal stuff, you never put yourself first."
"Stop, Quinn. Just stop."
"No, you need to hear this. You are a beautiful person, Rachel, inside and out. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever met. I trampled all over that, and I'm sorry." Quinn took another sip from her glass of wine, before slamming it on the counter. Rachel slowly walked closer to her, grasping her wrist with her free hand.
"Quinn, stop apologizing. I see you. I always have." She used her other hand to wipe a stray tear that had fallen down Quinn's cheek. "This is why we have these moments in the bathroom at prom, at Brittany and Santana's wedding. You don't have to apologize to me. I know that you've been searching for…for something, I don't know what, but something that will make you feel whole." Rachel looked up at her, her eyes wide and glistening. Quinn wasn't sure if it was the wine, or Rachel's words, or her newfound realization that she loved her, but she felt out of control, as though her body were moving independently of her mind and she leaned down toward Rachel so their lips were barely centimeters apart from one another.
"You know what you said last night, about Santana and Brittany's house? You're my home too, Rachel. I think you always have been, I just couldn't let myself feel it." They were so close that Quinn could feel Rachel take a breath in at her statement. Quinn knew it was now or never and leaned in, letting her lips softly graze Rachel's, the kiss slow and gentle, just savoring the feeling of Chapstick and lip gloss press against one another. It was soft, and sweet. Rachel sucked in a breath of air and put her hands gently on Quinn's waist, pulling their hips flush together and flicked her tongue out gently into Quinn's mouth. She couldn't contain her moan as she tasted Quinn's breath and wine and lip gloss mixed into one. The sound spurred Quinn on, she could somehow feel it vibrating from her mouth to every nerve ending in her body and suddenly she didn't care that they were at a party with all of their friends, that her ex-husband was a room away, or that her children could run in at any moment. All that mattered was Rachel, pressed against her, so soft and so sweet and so Rachel and she couldn't think past it. She rotated their bodies so that Rachel was pressed against the counter and gently leaned into her as they kissed, slowly sliding her thigh in between Rachel's legs and smiling into their kiss as Rachel gasped at the sensation. She rocked her hips slowly into Rachel's as their kisses became more passionate, sloppier, as tongues traveled further into mouths and then down necks and collarbones and sternums. She placed her hands on Rachel's hips, pulling them toward her as she thrust her thigh in between Rachel's legs again.
"We can't do this here," Rachel gasped in Quinn's ear, her breath heavy and a small groan erupting in the middle of her sentence.
"I know," Quinn whispered back, maintaining the rhythm of her hips as she whispered into Rachel's ear. "I can't help it though. I can't stop thinking about you. You're all I think about it." She groaned out, sucking gently on Rachel's earlobe. "You're what I think about when I dream at night, and I wake up so—so…"
"Stop it, Quinn. You have to stop."
"I can't stop. I can feel you through your jeans."
"This isn't right." Rachel stammered, meekly, knowing that she was too turned on to really say no to Quinn, and knowing that she was probably going to come undone in any moment, through her jeans, in the Hudson-Hummel kitchen.
"I need to hear you, Rachel. I know you're close," Quinn said, applying more pressure with her thigh to the damp spot in Rachel's jeans.
"This isn't right, Quinn. Anyone could walk in," Rachel replied, shifting her hips up so that she was practically riding her thigh, feeling her wetness slide up and down the friction of Quinn's leg. "I don't want to do this like…this…" she whispered in Quinn's ear. "This isn't how it's supposed to be."
"I can't, Rachel. This is all I have."
"I want you to make love to me," Rachel panted, knowing that a few more thrusts and she'd come undone, fully clothed, in this kitchen.
"I am making love to you. I am. Please, Rachel, please." Quinn gasped out, holding Rachel's hips in place so that she couldn't thrust against her anymore and tensed her own thigh so that it pressed hard through the layers of clothing in between Rachel's leg. Rachel leaned into Quinn's shoulder, biting her hard to conceal her moan as Quinn thrust again. Rachel's thighs trembled forcefully, squeezing against Quinn's thigh as she let out a deep groan.
"Where are Rachel and Quinn?" Tina asked, after a comfortable silence had fallen over the group. Justin glared into his beer and Brittany shared a knowing look with Santana, who currently was cradling their two sleeping toddlers in her lap. The two also didn't miss the look on Justin's face, Brittany quickly jumping in to change the subject.
"Well, I think it's time I get my three sleepyheads home," Brittany said, gesturing to Santana and the twins. Santana rolled her eyes as the rest of the club smirked at her.
"Leaving already?" Quinn asked, entering the room. Her cheeks had a slight flush to them as she leaned in the doorway.
"Mhmm," Santana said, nuzzling her face into Nico's head. "Sorry you missed so much of the 'Brittany and Santana' portion of the party," she added, using air quotes.
"I think I see enough of the Pierce-Lopez's in LA," Quinn said. She tried to ignore the glare Justin was holding as he observed Quinn and Santana's banter. Brittany helped Santana off of the couch and the two of them hugged everyone goodbye and collected their belongings and their gifts.
"You best be telling me what went on here when we get back to LA, Quinnie," Santana whispered into Quinn's ear as she hugged her goodbye.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Tana-Banana, Quinn replied, her glare felt through Santana's ear. Santana scoffed.
"You use that name, I know you're trying to distract me, bitch. Let's do lunch when I get back."
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Love you, Q!" Santana yelled, turning her fake, chipper, voice on." Goodbye, everyone!"
The rest of the glee club stayed around for a few hours, rehashing old times and catching up on the new. It wasn't long before Mercedes has a sudden late night bought of morning sickness and the kids slowly started falling asleep and the club decided to call it a night.
"It was lovely seeing everyone," Quinn said from the doorway as Justin held a sleeping Lily and Harper. "I'll see you at Britt and Santana's New Years Eve party, right?" Quinn asked Rachel nonchalantly.
"I'm going to be in New York over New Years," Rachel said. "You know, back at home base, for now."
"Of course," Quinn said, "of course, I'm sorry for being presumptuous," Quinn said.
"Not at all, Quinn. It was lovely seeing you," she finished, pushing her way out of the house. "I'm sure I'll see you around."
"Yeah, see you around Rachel," Quinn said softly as Rachel quickly walked down the path out of the house. "You ready to go Justin?" She asked her ex-husband as she shifted a grip on a sleeping Harper. He simply nodded and they left down the pathway as well.
"That wasn't so bad, was it, Santana?" Brittany asked her wife into the dark of her bedroom. She reached across the dark to touch her Santana's soft cheek. It was their fourth consecutive night in Santana's childhood bedroom and that wasn't making her feel much better.
"It was pretty bad, Britt. It's always pretty bad."
"I don't understand why, sweetheart."
"Maybe everyone else has gotten over what a bitch I was in high school, but I haven't. I want them to understand why..." Santana choked back a sob, prompting Brittany to pull her tightly into her own body. "I want them to understand," she began, taking a deep breath in an attempt to control everything she felt was rushing forth. "I need them to understand that I was so sad, and so angry, and so scared, that it made me too selfish to understand what I was doing to them, that my actions had consequences. Or maybe it just made me too selfish to care about those consequences. I was scared, Britt. I would have given my life then to keep my secret safe."
"They do understand, honey," Brittany said, kissing at the tears flowing down Santana's cheeks.
"I don't know that they do. I will always feel bad, as though my fucked up reasoning for behaving the way I did is just an excuse, and that none of them will see me for who I am today."
"They do, honey. You just have to let them." Brittany held Santana, gently rubbing her back as Santana's breathing slowly evened out.
"Thank you, Britt."
"For what? You're still crying."
"For loving me. Unconditionally."
"Always." They lay in silence, Brittany absentmindedly rubbing her thumb along Santana's cheekbone, their lips not touching, but close enough to breathe one another in.
"Rachel and Quinn totally got it on tonight," Santana whispered, after her tears had stopped and her breath had resumed some level of normalcy.
"No way." Brittany smiled into her wife's lips. "Too many glee kids around. Justin. It would have been too risky." Brittany said sleepily.
"They totally had that sticky, flushed, 'we just had awesome lesbian sex' look. Trust me, I know it."
"I know you do," Brittany said, pulling Santana in for a kiss. "But there's no way, it was just too risky."
"I wouldn't have put it past us, five years ago," Santana said.
"Mhmm," Brittany replied, kissing Santana with a little more urgency this time.
"Are we lame now, Britt?"
"What are you talking about?" Brittany said, trying to pull Santana into another kiss.
"We're like 'moms' now, or something. We don't do crazy things like have sex at a glee club party."
"Quinn had sex at a glee club party and she's a mom."
"So, you do think Quinn and Rachel had sex, huh, Britt?" Santana said, smirking as Brittany pulled her in for another kiss.
"I really don't want to think about our best friends having sex right now," Brittany replied.
"What do you want to think about, Britt-Britt?"
"Another pair of hot, lesbian, McKinley High alumni having sex," Brittany husked into Santana's ear. Santana groaned and pressed her lips against Brittany's.
"Wait a second," Santana said, her breath heavy as she pulled away from Brittany's lips. "You think Quinn and Rachel are hot."
"Obviously they're hot," Brittany said, smiling into Santana's lips. "But, that's not what I'm thinking about right now. So, please, shut up, and kiss me, Santana."
"Anything you want, Ms. Brittany," Santana said, kissing her wife's lips yet again.