A/N: Well, I'm very sorry for another long wait. As those of you know who follow my Tumblr, my computer crashed, and I had to start anew once I got a new one. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I really love all of your reviews!
The sun is already setting by the time they get on the road, and Brittany can hear her stomach start growling.
"Let's get dinner at that seafood place we went to right after we found out that the twins were…well…twins," Brittany says, gently touching Santana's jaw with her thumb. Santana nods. She knows that Brittany is looking at her; Brittany has always watched her drive, ever since the first time she took them on a double date to Breadstix with Jeff and Tim the Friday after she got her driver's license.
"Quit staring at me, Britt," Santana said, glancing for a millisecond at Brittany. She shifts in her Cheerios uniform uncomfortably.
"I'm not staring," Brittany says. "I'm just watching you drive."
"It's the same thing, Britt. Besides, what are you looking at, anyway?"
"You. You look so grown-up, driving."
"You've been driving for like, six months, Brittany."
"It's still crazy to see you do it."
"You're crazy, Britt. Adorable, but crazy."
"You mean the place we eat at every time we go to Big Sur?" Santana asks, chuckling.
"Yeah, that one," Brittany says with a grin.
Their usual place is really just a bar with some food. Brittany has always refused to eat "true" roadside food, and Santana has always refused to eat a $30 fish entree when they're just stopping en route, so, as a result, this pub has become a bit of a tradition for them.
They sit silently at the restaurant, picking at their food, Santana drinking a pint of Blue Moon.
"It's weird, isn't it?" Santana asks.
"What's weird?"
"Well, we don't spend that much time together, without the kids these days."
"I think it's kind of nice," Brittany says. "The quiet. I never thought I'd say that." She giggles.
"I think I love it," Santana says, taking Brittany's hand in her own and kissing her knuckles. "I really think that I love it, Britt."
"Comida, comida, comida!" Nico sings, banging his spoon on his high chair.
"Do you have any idea what he's saying?" Quinn asks Rachel, wincing as Olivia screams in her ear.
"Not a single one. I love Mr. Schuester, but he really was a terrible Spanish teacher." Quinn pulls up the Spanish translator application on her refrigerator iPad, and types in "comida".
"It means food," Quinn says to Rachel, turning around to see Rachel bouncing a screaming Nico up and down. "Little man is hungry," Quinn says.
"Dinner will be ready in a minute, mijo," Rachel coos into his ear. Nico leans his head away from her and his eyes widen. Rachel smiles at him.
"Mama!" He screams, his voice reaching a pitch that Rachel didn't even know was possible for humans. It sets off a chain reaction and Olivia starts wailing, the tears streaming down her face as she cries for her mothers.
"What are you doing to my cousins?" Lily asks, storming into the kitchen with her hands on her hips. She reaches up and takes him from Rachel. "Está bien, Nico, está bien. Lily está aquí." Nico's cries slowly turn into soft whimpers and finally just a gentle gurgling noise.
"How did you do that?" Quinn asks, in awe of a now calm Nico, sucking on his thumb.
"Aunt S told me to make sure you take care of the babies, and you are obviouslynot doing a good job, so I'm in charge now." Lily says.
"Oh, are you, young lady?" Quinn asks.
"Yes, I am." She glares at her mother, daring her to reply.
"Fine, if you can get him to stop crying while I finish with dinner, then so be it," Quinn says. "Just stay where I can see you, okay, Lily?"
"Fine, Mom," Lily says, taking Nico to sit with her at their new kitchen table.
Santana closes her eyes the moment they're back in the car and pulling onto the PCH. She turns the volume up on the radio—not so loud to distract from Brittany's driving, but loud enough to hum along.
"It's really beautiful, Santana," Brittany says, glancing for a moment toward her wife. Santana's eyes aren't closed at the moment, but they're fixated on the high rock walls to their right. "I know you don't want to look at it, but it really is gorgeous."
"I know, Britt," Santana says, still not turning to face her. "I've seen it before. Remember the first time we came up here?" Santana shifts in her seat.
"Of course I do," Brittany says, giggling a bit. "You were super excited to take the 1, and you took one look over at the ocean and panicked. It was so cute."
"I wasn't that bad," Santana says, her eyes still fixed on the wall of rock to her right.
"You pulled over the first time we came to a scenic viewpoint and threw up."
"I didn't want to plummet into the ocean and take you with me!"
"I know, sweetheart," Brittany says, taking Santana's hand. "It was a really nice trip anyway."
"I miss my Dad," Santana says, squeezing Brittany's hand a little tighter.
2016
"What are you doing, baby?" Brittany asks, walking into their tiny apartment. Santana is crouched over her computer on the couch, the TV set silently on CNN. The apartment is a mess. Their apartment has never been a bastion of cleanliness, however, it's particularly messy at the moment. There are rings on the coffee table from the various beverages Santana's had throughout the day, and a bottle of whiskey that was nearly full when Brittany left that morning is down to a little less than half. There's an open box of pizza on the kitchen counter, and papers strewn everywhere.
"I'm looking for airfare," Santana says, barely looking up from her computer.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going home," Santana says.
"For how long?"
"I don't know. It depends on how much plane tickets are."
"Wait, you're paying for this yourself? Baby, how do you have the money for plane tickets?" Brittany asks, sliding in next to Santana and wrapping her arm around her shoulder.
"I don't right now…I just…my Dad won't pay for me to come home because he wants me to keep living my life, and he keeps saying that he'll be fine. But what if he's not fine, Britt? What then? And I miss all of these opportunities to spend with him?"
"San, your Dad's a doctor. I'm sure if he says he'll be fine, then he will be. But, if you'd like, I just got paid for that gig I had a month ago, and I can afford to buy us plane tickets back to Ohio if you'd like."
"You'd do that for me, Britt?"
"Of course. I'd give you the world if I could, Santana."
"I'm sorry, honey," Brittany says. They drive along the winding roads in silence until Brittany suddenly pulls into the scenic view spot off the side of the road.
"What are you doing, baby? You know I'm not into these things!" Santana doesn't sound annoyed, per se, she sounds tired.
"This is the spot you vomited in. Nine years ago, you vomited right here."
"I really don't want to relive this memory, Britt."
"Please just look at the view for a second with me, San? I promise that we won't stop after this until we get to Big Sur."
Santana groans but climbs out of the car anyway, moving her legs with unnecessary dramatics as they wait from the road to be free and run across so that they can look over the guard rail at the view below. It is beautiful. Santana thinks it's much more beautiful when she is on foot and has more control over plummeting over the edge than when she's trapped in a car. Brittany leads her to the bench and they sit down, soaking in the violet sky.
2016
"Let's just go home, Britt," Santana says, spitting into the dirt. Brittany hands her a bottle of water and Santana swishes it around her mouth before spitting back into the earth. "I know my Dad says that he doesn't want us coming back, that he'd rather we take this vacation, but I really want to go home and be with my family.
"Why don't we take in some fresh air, San," Brittany says, taking both of Santana's hands to pull her up from her crouched position. They run across the street so they can take in the view. Brittany rubs small circles into the small of Santana's back, waiting for her breath to even out. Santana looks up at Brittany once she realizes that she can breathe again.
"I'm sorry, Britt. You're my family too, you know." Santana says, looking up at her.
"I know, baby," Brittany says, kissing her temple. "We're all family, aren't we?"
"I think so," Santana says. "I'd like to think so."
"One day we should take the kids up here," Brittany says as they climb back into the car.
"And my mom," Santana says. She leans out of her seat and kisses Brittany's shoulder. She can see the way the cliffs drop thirty feet down and the ocean splashes against their walls in rhythmic, violent, motion. "It really is beautiful, Brittany," she says, kissing her shoulder again and then turning away from the steep fall as Brittany takes a hairpin turn expertly in their SUV. "It's beautiful, but scary."
"Isn't that the case with all good things? They're the most beautiful, but they're also the most terrifying."
"I don't miss having babies," Quinn says, once they have all five children in bed. "I don't think I'm going to miss having elementary school aged kids, either."
"You say that now, Quinn," Rachel says, tucking a hair behind Quinn's ear, "but just wait until they're in high school."
"Oh, please. High School will be easy. They can drive themselves, they'll just care about boys and avoiding me as much as possible. It will be a cakewalk."
"Do you actually remember High School, Quinn?"
"And they won't be allowed around boys. Period. Or girls, for that matter. And there will be an unlimited supply of condoms in every bathroom in the house."
"That sounds extremely effective." Rachel says, smiling. She sits down in front of Quinn on the couch and allows her to rub her shoulders. "Where did Brittany and Santana go this weekend, anyway?"
"Big Sur. They've been renting a vacation house out there for years—for longer than they should have known what a vacation house was. They were going to go for Valentine's Day this year, but we had those rains, and Santana is always scared of driving on the freeway in that area."
"Why?"
"She'd never admit to it, but she's scared of heights, and that's the beautiful part of the PCH that winds along the coast, up
"How do you know that? Santana is usually so secretive about what scares her." Rachel says, burying her face into Quinn's neck, and placing a small kiss above Quinn's collarbone.
"It's amazing what you notice in Santana if you really pay attention," Quinn says. They remain in the same position, Rachel's nose buried in Quinn's neck, allowing the silence to move around them. "She's full of everything, you know," Quinn says, when Rachel breaks the calm by pressing her lips to Quinn's neck again. "You just have to know how to listen to her."
"I think I'm beginning to learn that," Rachel says.
"Good," Quinn says, kissing Rachel's temple. "Once you do, she'll be the best friend you've ever had."
"Wake up, honey," Brittany says, gently nudging Santana's shoulder. "We're here," she whispers, kissing Santana's temple.
Santana slowly opens her eyes. It's dark outside. 'We're here?" She asks.
"We are," Brittany says. She rubs Santana's chin with her thumb. "You have a little drool," she whispers.
"Gross," Santana says, sitting up straight and pushing Brittany's hand away from her face so that she can wipe the drool of herself.
"It's cute drool," Brittany says.
"There's no such thing as cute drool, and just because we've been together forever doesn't mean it will ever be appropriate for you to wipe drool off of my face, okay?"
"You always drool, San," Brittany says, "now get up and help me with the bags, okay?" Santana groans but opens the door to the SUV and climbs out.
"This place never really changes, does it?" Santana asks as they walk through the front door.
"That's my favorite part about it."
They quickly unpack their things; it's late and both of them are tired from their long days and the drive.
"Its too late to go to the grocery store," Brittany says, hopping onto the kitchen counter like she's sixteen-years-old.
"I brought reinforcements," Santana says. She reaches into her large purse and pulls out two bottles of champagne.
"Did you bring food?" Brittany asks.
"No, but I brought champagne," Santana says, looking at Brittany, hopefully. "Don't you still have that beef jerky you bought at the gas station?"
"Beef jerky is only allowed while you're on the road. Everyone knows that. It's like truck driver law, or something."
"Well, you can eat that."
"What if we get hungry for something other than jerky?"
"I'm sorry, Britt, I didn't think of everything," Santana says, shrugging her shoulders and trying to control her glare. "What do you want from me?"
"I just thought…" Brittany begins, jumping off the counter and running her hand down Santana's arm.
"I mean, really, Britt, I try and try to make things right, and I can never win with you. I mean, I brought this champagne, and it was super-expensive and recommended to me by an executive at Paramount. I also have vodka in the suitcase." Santana says, rolling her eyes and taking a step away from Brittany, crossing her arms over her chest. She huffs and then reaches into her purse. "I also may have a bag of gummy bears," she says taking a bag out and putting it on the counter. "And a bag of sour patch kids and a bag of peach-o's," she says, throwing those on the counter as well. She tries to keep her glare on as she sees Brittany's face light up. "There also mightbe popcorn, trail mix, macaroni & cheese, and cereal for the morning in my suitcase…"
"Is that why you bought that little thing of milk at the gas station?" Brittany asks.
"Perhaps," Santana says. Brittany wraps her arms around her wife's waist, in that giant, teenage, no-holds-barred, kind of a way.
"I thought you were actually mad," Brittany says, kissing Santana's nose. "Which didn't make any sense, because I knew that if you remembered to bring the booze you'd remember to bring the snacks for the booze because you know I can't drink without snacks and you wouldn't forget something like that because you are my perfect, perfect."
"I'm your perfect, perfect, am I?"
"Yup. You're my perfect, perfect everything, Santana."
2022
"I wanted to talk to you about something," Brittany says. It's their first night in Big Sur. It's their first time coming since Santana's father passed away. Santana feels her heart drop in her chest. This is the last thing she needs right now.
"Brittany, please, honey. Can't we just have a nice weekend up in our old vacation spot?" Santana asks, taking both of Brittany's hands in her own.
"I've just been putting this off for so long, Santana, and I'd really like if we could talk about this now so that we can enjoy the rest of our weekend. Why don't I pour us some champagne?" Santana hates that she's so transparent that Brittany knows she brought champagne with her, as though a little bubbly will solve all of the problems that she's been creating for them in the last year. Brittany pours a glass for each of them and leads them to the couch.
"Can I say something first?" Santana asks, drinking her entire glass in one gulp and holding in the burp that inevitably tried to follow. "I'm sorry, Britt. I'm so sorry. I know that I've been distant and preoccupied in the last few months. In the last year, even. I know it's no excuse, but seeing my father like that…I know he was so sick for so long, but he did such a good job at hiding it that when it was the end, it was just hard to realize that my big, strong, Dad was no longer there. I let our relationship suffer because I was so sad, and that's not fair of me, and it's not right, but I want you to know that I'm here now. I'm here, and I'm ready to do whatever has to be done to repair our relationship."
"San, why are you apologizing?" Brittany asks, running a hand down Santana's cheek, wiping away a tear. "You've done absolutely nothing wrong. This was a terrible, difficult time for our family, and you needed to deal with it the way you needed to deal with it."
"Thank you," Santana says.
"It also made me realize a lot about myself, and about doing what I need and making sure that I live this life the best way I know how. I've always been true to myself, Santana, you know that, and I've just realized that life is too short to live in a way that doesn't feel true to me."
"You've met someone new, haven't you?"
"What? Of course not! That's what you got out of that speech?"
"Yes! Living with me isn't enough for you anymore! I don't provide enough happiness, I've been depressed, stalled in my life."
"No, Santana," Brittany says, taking her hands. She gets up from the couch and refills Santana's glass of champagne. "I want to have a baby," Brittany says as she hands Santana her glass. "I want to start a family."
"What?"
"These last few months have made me realize that we can't always wait until it's the perfect time, the perfect situation. I want to have a family with you, and I want to have one as soon as possible."
"So, you don't want to leave me?"
"Of course not, honey! What made you think that?"
"You've just been so strange, lately. You've been sketchy about what you're doing and where you're going and what you're thinking. I thought you'd had enough of my grieving process."
"Baby. You deserve to grieve your father. I would never tell you that you had to stop because I was tired of it. I had to grieve your father too. I've been researching lesbian parenthood, that's why I've been so sketchy lately." Santana pulls Brittany into a kiss.
"I'm just so relieved. You're definitely not leaving me?"
"Definitely not anytime soon." They kiss and Santana strokes the side of Brittany's cheek.
"Wait. You want to have a baby?" Santana asks, pulling away.
"Now, there's the reaction I was expecting!" Brittany says, laughing.
"No, no!' Santana says, taking a gulp of her champagne. "I would love to start a family with you. Now, tell me what all of this research has helped you find out."
"I told you that you were my perfect,perfect, Santana," Brittany says, holding her hand over the edge of the bathtub for Santana to refill her glass of Champagne. There are bubbles crawling their way up the bones on her hand, past her wrist and her forearm as she dangles her hand over the edge.
"Did you tell me that?" Santana asks.
"I did," Brittany says. "You're perfect, and soft and wonderful and you refill my Champagne without me even having to ask."
"Well, you're my perfect, perfect, Ms. Brittany Pierce."
"Mrs. Brittany Pierce-Lopez, Mrs. Santana Pierce-Lopez." Brittany says, taking a sip of her champagne.
"I'm sorry, darling, I was reliving our younger days in this bathtub."
"First of all, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, we're still young," Brittany says, running her hands up Santana's soapy thigh, "second of all, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, no one could be more perfect than you."
2019
"I brought the champagne," Santana says, giving Brittany her usual half-smile.
"Baby, if there's one thing I'm confident you'll never forget to bring, it's the champagne.
"I just like to celebrate when there are things worthy of celebrating," Santana says, shrugging her shoulders.
"And what are we celebrating on this lovely trip to Big Sur?"
"So many things. My first real job at a real law firm, your job with "Chorus Line" at the Pantages, my Dad doing a little better than before.
"And the even more frightening 15 year mortgage we have to pay off," Brittany says.
"See, there's a lot to celebrate."
"I want to take a bath…we spend all momentous moments in Big Sur in the bath. Can a moment be momentous?"
"I think so," Santana says, leading Brittany toward the bathroom. They rarely go up to Big Sur in the middle of winter, so it's exciting to see the snow and the way the icicles attach to the trees outside. They may have grown up in an area with seasons, but they've been away from them for long enough that they now seem like a novelty item. The bathroom in Big Sur has a picture window overlooking the woods and the ocean on a clear day. Santana settles into the back of the tub, allowing Brittany to lean against the front of her, the tips of her hair floating in the water.
"I love you, Britt," Santana says, kissing her temple.
"I love you too, Santana," Brittany replies, a little timidly. They say I love you all the time, but there's something about the gravity with which Santana says it in this moment that indicates to Brittany that it means something more.
"I'm really glad we came here again. I'm really happy for all the times that we've come here."
"Me too, San. Is everything okay?" Brittany asks, shifting in the tub so that she is facing Santana.
"Everything is perfect. This place is perfect, and you're perfect, and our life feels perfect right now. It's like, you know when you're younger, and you picture adulthood and all of the things that you'd like to happen but in the back of your mind you know that they may not end up being realities? I feel like all of my dreams, all of my silly, middle school dreams are coming true. I'm so happy with you Brittany. I'm so happy with our life."
"I am too, Santana, but you're scaring me."
"I want to marry you," Santana blurts out. This is not the speech she prepared. She hasn't even brought out the assorted candy bowl she made and "I want to marry you" was supposed to come at the end of the speech, not the beginning.
"I want to marry you," Santana says again, realizing that the speech has long gone out the window and she's going to have to improvise from here. "Everything in my life is perfect, Brittany. Perfect as it is. Beyond my wildest expectations. I always thought that marriage was stupid—like it was a government issued contract binding us together, when there's no way a contract means more than a pinky link between us. I realize now, though, that I want more than just to spend my life with you. I already know that I will spend my life with you. I want to make you, legally, my family, the way you already are in my heart. Will you do me the honor, Ms. Brittany Susan Pierce, of becoming my wife?"
"Our younger days were pretty nice, weren't they?" Brittany asks, allowing her hand to linger at the top of Santana's thigh.
"Our older days are pretty nice too, aren't they?" Santana asks.
"Mhmm," Brittany says, turning her head so she can kiss Santana. "I think," she says, shifting her body so that she's completely facing Santana with her body in between Santana's legs, "our older years," she continues, kissing Santana gently on the mouth, "are going to be really, really awesome."
"It seems like it," Santana says, deepening the kiss and smirking a bit at the sound of Brittany's moan.
"I'm so tired," Quinn says, rolling over in the bed and trying to smack the baby monitor off like an alarm clock.
"Love, I don't think that smacking the baby monitor will turn the crying off."
"You don't know that," Quinn says, rolling over so that she and Rachel are facing one another.
"I do know that, and we have to get up," Rachel says, brushing Quinn's bangs out of her face. Quinn leans into Rachel and pecks her lips.
"I don't miss having toddlers in the household. Is that terrible?" Quinn asks, kissing Rachel once more before pulling away for her answer.
"Absolutely not. Imagine the things we could do with this morning if there were no toddler's in the house," Rachel says, kissing Quinn again, with a bit more fervor this time.
"Things like this?" Quinn asks, running her hand up Rachel's shirt.
"Mom! Rach! The babies won't stop crying and Lily keeps yelling that it's my shift and I don't know what she's talking about!" Hannah yells from the hallway. Rachel and Quinn stop kissing just in time for Hannah to barge in to the room. "So, I think it's your shift, whatever that means," Hannah says, gesticulating at the bed and storming back out of the room. Quinn throws her head back onto the pillow.
"So many children ruining my life right now," Quinn mumbles to herself. "So many."
"You love it," Rachel says, grinning. "Now get up! We have toddlers to tend to!" Rachel hops out of bed and wraps a robe around herself.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're way too chipper in the morning?" Quinn asks, stretching as she climbs from bed.
"It may have come up once or twice," Rachel says, grinning, and walking out of the door.
"You went to the grocery store," Brittany says, walking into the kitchen the next morning.
"I did," Santana replies. "You didn't put any clothes on," she says as she looks up at her wife.
"Unnecessary. Although I am a little chilly," Brittany admits. "I was so confused when I woke up and you weren't there," Brittany says, wrapping her arms around Santana's back. Santana is leaning over the griddle, flipping shredded potatoes to make hash browns. "I thought we were going to have one of those college mornings." Santana leans her head back to raise her eyebrows at Brittany. "I know I didn't go to college, baby, I just meant the kinds of mornings we had when you were in college."
"That was not the reason for the look, baby. I was wondering what exactly a college morning was."
"Duh. A college morning is one of those mornings where you have to do research for you Senior thesis or have a big test in copyright law coming up and I have an unpaid choreography gig and my day job to get to and we plan on getting up at nine, and we kind of do, but we cuddle from 9-10 and then we have sex from 10-11, and by the time we've walked to the store and eaten breakfast we lost all the extra time. 'College Morning Time'."
"I did like those times," Santana says, leaning into Brittany. "I woke up really early, though, and I didn't want to wake you because you looked so peaceful sleeping, like a little puppy dog. Then I was thinking about all of those times you made me the Grand Slamtana, and I thought it was well-past my turn to make you a Grand Slamtittany. Besides, we have no unpaid gigs or day jobs or copyright law classes to get to, so really we can cuddle and have sex all day."
"You called Quinn to check on the babies, didn't you?" Brittany asks, pulling away and smirking. "It's okay, if you did. I like you're overprotective, crazy mom act. In fact, I just like anytime I can call you 'mom'."
"Creepy, Britt. Please don't call me 'mom' for the duration that we're on this romantic vacation."
"I'll try," Brittany says, kissing Santana on the cheek. "It really does smell delicious."
"I learned from the best," Santana says.
"Grand Slamtittany really has a ring to it, doesn't it?"
"I guess it does, Britt," Santana says, grinning, and flipping the potatoes one last time.
"I don't know why we agreed to this," Rachel says to Quinn, plastering a Band-Aid on a scratch on her arm.
"Because Brittany is our friend and she'll know if we don't play with Lord Tubbington."
"How will she know? And why does she name all of her cats Lord Tubbington?"
"She just will. You know Britt, she has a sixth sense about these things. And, to be honest, I don't think Britt's the one who keeps naming the cats Lord Tubbington. I think she gives them new names, but they all just get so fat so quickly that Santana insists on calling them all Lord Tubbington. I'm pretty sure this one was named Mafalda at some point, and the outdoor cat was named Susanita before they became Lord Tubbington IV and Cat."
"Well, Mafalda is kind of a bitch." Rachel says, glowering as the cat hisses at her.
"I don't know what your problem is with her," Lily says, skipping over to the couch next to Mafalda/Lord Tubbington. The cat climbs into Lily's lap and begins to purr. "She's so cute and chubby."
"I swear to God, Santana has put some kind of spell on my child. Or some kind of curse on me." Quinn says.
"I wouldn't put it past her," Rachel shrugs.
They decide to spend the rest of their morning walking through town. It's a little chilly—at least chilly for them—so they bundle up and check out all of their favorite spots. The café that sells the homemade Blackberry Jam that Brittany swears by.
"It makes boring, dry, toast, a magical flavor explosion in my mouth, Santana." Santana just raises her eyebrows at Brittany's decision to purchase three jars. "I don't understand why you're looking at me like that. It tastes like elves went to heaven and picked Blackberries from Hogwarts bushes used to feed gummy bears and brought them back via the unicorn express."
"Britt, there are way to many ethereal, candy related mixed metaphors there for me to understand, but go ahead and buy as many jars as you like."
They buy an Apple Pie at the bakery and finally make it to the bookstore-one of Santana's favorite spots. She likes the way the bell rings when they walk in and how there never appears to be any clerks on duty and even how the smell of the books makes her sneeze a bit. They lose each other after a few moments, browsing in their respective sections and allowing the other to take time reading the jackets of the books that interest them.
Brittany finds Santana twenty minutes later sitting on a tiny red stool in the children's section. Her brow is furrowed in concentration. Brittany can't help but smirk at how much she looks like she used to when she was in Law School and was struggling over Copyright or Tenant Law. Only now it's illustrated and with letters as large as some of the pages in her law textbooks.
"Remember when you used to go into bookstores and browse the history and political science sections?"
"So much more boring than this," Santana says, looking up when she hears Brittany's voice. "It's more colorful."
"Much more my style, San," Brittany says.
"Check out this section. It's Gay and Lesbian children's books. I didn't know they had enough Gay and Lesbian children's books for an entire section."
"I like that. It's nice."
"I'm thinking about getting this one," Santana says, holding out a book called "Mommy, Mama, and Me." Brittany takes the book from her.
"Mommy picks me up, up, up. Mama pours juice in my cup. Mommy gently combs my hair. Mama rocks me in her chair. Mommy packs a yummy snack. Mama rides me on her back."
"It's adorable, isn't it?"
"It's perfect. It's just like our little family."
"Have you ever gone up to Big Sur with them?" Rachel asks. It's a little past two and Lily has been fast asleep for an hour with the cat curled up on her stomach. Nico and Olivia are also asleep in their cribs, and it's much better than they've slept since they've been away from home, so Quinn and Rachel decided to just let them sleep. They've been looking through the photo albums that Brittany and Santana keep in their coffee table.
"I never have," Quinn says. "It's their place, you know? They've never invited me, and I've never thought to ask."
"But Big Bear was your and Justin's place, and you brought them there. It doesn't seem quiet fair if you ask me. I mean, seriously, this place looks beautiful."
"Justin and I never really had a place that was ours. What we had was different than what Brittany and Santana have. There's just something inherently more private about their relationship. Can't you feel it? They don't need to speak to communicate with one another. It's inexplicable and beautiful and reminds me a little bit of aliens."
"Aliens, Quinn?"
"Yes, aliens. Like they have their own culture and language and means of communicating and sometimes they need to return to the home planet to reboot or something."
"And what exactly do they do when they're on the 'home planet', Quinn?"
"From what I gather, the just take a lot of baths."
"You know you sound insane, right?"
"I spend the vast majority of my time with people under the age of ten. You love me anyway, right?"
"Of course I do. Doesn't make you any less crazy.
It's a little after two by the time they get back to the house. Santana lights a fire in the fireplace and Brittany puts their numerous food purchases into the refrigerator. When she returns to the living room, Santana is curled on her side on the couch, her book in hand.
"What are you reading?" Brittany asks.
"Fried Green Tomatoes," Santana replies, not looking up from her book.
"Santana, you've read that like a hundred times. Why did you buy a new one?"
"I don't know where my copy is." Santana slides next to Brittany on the couch and runs her hand along Santana's calf, up her thigh, and over her hip. She allows the tips of her fingers to trail underneath the hem of Santana's shirt, gently grazing the soft skin just above her hipbone.
"What you doin', Britt?" Santana asks, barely looking up from her book.
"Just touching you," Brittany replies. She places a soft kiss to Brittany's belly button, then one up the center of her body until the tip of her nose bumps the bottom of Santana's cleavage. Out of the corner of her eye she can see that Santana is no longer actually reading, but smirking into her book.
"This fire is pretty romantic, don't you think, San?" Brittany asks, her lips still touching Santana's body.
"It's okay," Santana says, shrugging. Brittany pulls away and takes a magazine off of the coffee table, reading it on the other side of the couch.
"What are you doing now, Britt-Britt?"
"Reading."
"Why are you doing that?"
"Well, what else would I be doing?"
"I don't know…maybe a little of what you were doing before?"
"I thought that you said the romantic fire was just okay?"
"I was just playing with you, Britt," Santana whines.
"Well, two can play at that game," Brittany replies. "This is another phrase that never really made sense to me. Two can play at any game, don't you think? I mean, if anything, two is not enough to play a number of games, but a game played by only one person has got to be the dullest game in existence. Like Solitaire. Or Minesweeper."
"Brittany."
"Yes, Santana."
"If you stop talking, I'm going to fuck you now."
Santana throws her book on the ground and climbs on top of Brittany, kissing her hard and with purpose. It's been longer than either of them would like to remember since they've had sex during the day, the sun bright and shining through the windows.
It doesn't take long to find a rhythm, Santana's hips rocking into Brittany's as she leaves sloppy, open mouth kisses along Brittany's sternum and collarbone.
"Take this off, Britt," Santana says, a little desperately as she tugs at the hem of Brittany's shirt.
"You too," Brittany says. They part for a moment to take off their shirts, and Santana follows Brittany's cue and removes her pants and underwear. She gasps as their bodies make contact again, wet and slippery against one another.
"You feel so good, Santana," Brittany says, gasping at the feeling of Santana's thigh rhythmically pressing into her. Santana can't let out more than a nod and a gasp, her eyes wide as they rock against one another. Their pace quickens, their heart rates quicken, and Santana slips a hand between Brittany's legs, first tracing a line from the her slick folds to back up to where her hair begins and then back down again.
"I need more, San," Brittany says as Santana presses her fingers into Brittany's clit, and then moves further so her fingers enter Brittany.
"Oh fuck," Santana gasps.
"Harder," Brittany says. Santana licks behind Brittany's ear as she quickens her pace and uses her thigh for leverage. Brittany's clutching the throw pillow so tightly her knuckles turn white and her legs begin to tremble.
"Oh, right there, Santana, right there…" She tightens her legs around Santana's waist as she lets out a high pitched scream, her muscles twitching around Santana's fingers.
"Oh fuck," Brittany says as her body finally relaxes and she collapses into the couch. "You are so good to me." Santana smiles into the crook of Brittany's neck. Without warning, Brittany flips them over so that she's straddling Santana on the couch.
"I'm going to make you come so hard, Mrs. Pierce-Lopez, you aren't going to be able to walk for a week." Brittany says, winking.
It's late when Santana wakes Brittany up, leaving a small line of kisses up her arm and over to her neck.
"You're beautiful when you sleep," Santana says, watching Brittany's eyes slowly flutter open. "I can't believe we've been sleeping on this couch for so long."
"Dinner, Santana," Brittany says through a groan. "I have to eat. I'm so hungry."
"I'll make you something, baby."
"No, let's make it together," Brittany says. She climbs off the couch and slips her underwear on, tying her hair into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck.
"God, why do you have to be so fucking sexy when we have to do productive things."
"Productive things are so much more fun when there's sex involved, don't you think, Santana?"
"Oh, you know me so well, baby." Santana climbs off the couch and puts on a pair of sweatpants, following Brittany into the kitchen. "What do you want for dinner?"
"Something that doesn't splatter too much when it's hot. I don't want you to burn your boobs."
"I was thinking we could make soup. Since it's so cold." Brittany nods and Santana takes out the cutting board as Brittany unloads some vegetables and meat from the refrigerator. Santana quickly sets about chopping the celery as Brittany slides behind her, wrapping her hands around Santana's bare waist.
"You're not wearing any panties, are you?" Brittany says, slipping her finger past the waistband of Santana's USC sweatpants and over her soft curls. Santana yelps in surprise.
"Britt! I thought you were going to help?"
"I was, but then I got distracted by how nice your boobs look and how sexy your spine is and the beautiful way your waist curves into your hip bones and I thought maybe I could help you in a different way."
"Do you want to eat or not, Britt?" Santana asks, gasping a little as Brittany's fingers move further into her pants.
"I just don't know what I want to eat now," Brittany says, pouting a little.
"Fine," Santana says, walking out of the kitchen and returning a moment later with a white tank top on.
"But now I can see your nipples through the shirt and you know how that turns me on."
"Britt!" Santana yells. She's trying to sound mad but her grin in stretching across her face and she knows that Britt can see it. "God, why did I marry such a sexual deviant! You're addicted!"
"Only because you're so good at it, Santana."
"Don't try to butter me up, Britt. Either we die of malnutrition or you get out a cutting board and we get this dinner going."
"Fine," Brittany says, grabbing the other cutting board out from under the counter. "But you should know, it turns me on when you get all harsh with me."
Quinn is trying to chop the vegetables for the lasagna, but Rachel sounds like she's crying along with Nico and Olivia in the other room. Lily is screaming at Hannah, Harper sounds like she's jumping rope or doing jumping jacks or something else inappropriate for indoor behavior. Something crashes to the ground. Quinn wipes her hands on the towel hanging from the oven and turns up the music on the radio.
"LILY!" Hannah screams. "LILY! Stop doing that! That hurts!" There's another crash, and Rachel's shrill voice.
"Girls, please calm down." Rachel says, her voice calm but about an octave higher than usual. Quinn turns the radio up.
"Lily! Lily, stop it! Harper!" Rachel screams. Quinn sighs. She definitely did not sign up for this. She storms into the living room.
"LISTEN!" Quinn screams, wishing she didn't have a chopping knife in hand because she's pretty sure she looks like a maniac right about now. "Lily, Hannah, and Harper! Each of you get in a corner, facing me!" The girls oblige and move into corners, with only a brief spat between Lily and Harper about which one they're going to.
"You three are getting your cousins and Lola riled up. This behavior will stop now. I want all three of you in your respective rooms until dinner time. No discussion." Quinn says, pointing at Harper who is about to open her mouth.
"Lily! Leave Lola here," Quinn yells, her back to Lily.
"How did you know?"
"It doesn't matter how I knew, put the dog down." Once the girls have made their march upstairs, Quinn takes Nico from a very disheveled looking Rachel.
"Let's finish dinner, now, shall we?" Quinn asks, cheerily.
"You really scare me sometimes, Quinn," Rachel says.
"That's the idea," Quinn replies, giving Rachel a peck on the lips. "Now, seriously, lets finish dinner, because the faster they eat the faster we can get them to bed, and the faster Brittany and Santana will be back to relieve me of this nightmare."
"Are you scared?" Brittany asks, later than night as they're drifting off into sleep. She moves closer so that their bare legs are more intertwined than they were before. Their faces are just far enough apart that they can focus on one another, and Brittany runs a finger down the bridge of Santana's nose.
"Scared of what?" Santana whispers.
"Scared of having more children? Of getting pregnant? Of having a baby?"
"Of course I am," Santana says. "I'm scared shitless." She adjusts herself in the bed so that she can kiss the top of Brittany's head. "I'm also really excited though. It's good that we came here."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. We always come here when life changes in a big way. It helps to remind me that you and I are the constant. No matter what life throws at us, we always have each other."
"I really love you, Santana."
"I really love you too, Brittany."
"I hate them," Quinn says, curling into Rachel in her bed.
"I hate them too," Rachel replies. "And careful, please don't touch my cat scratches, they actually really burn."
"Those fucking cats are the devil, that dog is the devil, and God bless my Godchildren, but I would swear on my life that Santana somehow impregnated Brittany herself considering how difficult and ornery those toddlers can be. Those bitches are probably off having wild sex marathons this weekend, leaving us here to deal with their shit."
"I wish we were having a sex marathon." Rachel says.
"When do they get back?"
"Three tomorrow. I swear if they are a moment late, I'm tripling the amount of babysitting time they owe me."
"I support that wholeheartedly."
"I love Big Sur," Brittany says, kissing Santana on the lips as she throws the last of their bags into the back of the car.
"Me too, Britt," Santana says climbing into the passenger seat.
"I miss Nico and Olivia, though."
"Me too."
"I think I'm done with the quiet."
"Yeah. It was nice, but I'm ready for our loud, loud children again."
"Do you think Quinn will be mad that we're running late?"
"Nah. And that morning sex was totally worth it," Santana says as Brittany turns the key in the ignition.
"It's five," Quinn says. "I'm actually really worried that I may kill Santana.
"I think there are other solutions," Rachel says, just as the door swings open.
"How were my babies?" Santana asks as she walks straight past Rachel into Quinn to take Olivia from her. "Where the F is Nico?"
"My precious daughter has him, just as you wanted, Santana. It's nice to see you, by the way. You're welcome for watching your children and your unnecessary number of pets this weekend."
"Oh, please, Quinn. Like I haven't done it for you nine times over." Quinn rolls her eyes, but it's more than apparent that Brittany and Santana care little for what she has to say in the moment.
"Look at our beautiful little babies," Brittany coos. They each have a twin in their arms now, and they're showering the suddenly calm and happy toddlers with kisses. "You are such good little babies. So good for Aunties Quinn and Rachel."
"You've got to be kidding me with this," Rachel says to Quinn.
"Devils. Those children are devils. It's the only explanation." Lily runs into the room and quietly says hello to Santana and Brittany, hugging each of them around the legs.
"That's it," Quinn says. "I'm giving all the kids to them. It's there problem now," she says, walking out of the room.
"What's wrong with her?" Santana asks Rachel.
"Rough weekend." Rachel says, shrugging her shoulders and following Quinn.
Brittany and Santana watch them leave, and then Brittany gives Santana a quick peck.
"I don't see what could have gone wrong. Everything seems perfectly calm," Brittany says.
"I don't know," Santana says, "but let's get out of here. I'll see you for your guitar lesson, right, Lil?" Lily nods and Brittany and Santana leave the house.
Rachel finds Quinn upstairs in Lily's room, rifling through her toy chest.
"What are you doing, Quinn?" Rachel asks, resting her hand on Quinn's shoulder.
"I'm looking for that note Santana gave my daughter. Lily hides all of her stuff in here." Quinn finds a crinkled piece of paper with Santana's handwriting on it.
Lily-
I'm trusting you to take care of your cousins this weekend. Remember the Spanish I've taught you, it always calms them down. Don't forget to practice the guitar. And, remember, your Mom is the babysitter this weekend, so be just as good for your Mom and Rachel as you are when you stay with me and Aunt B.
Just as good.
Love,
Aunt S
"That bitch," Quinn says, throwing the paper back in the toy chest. "I really may kill her one day."