A/N: I'm sorry to leave you waiting so long for an update! This is the last chapter-there will be an epilogue posted in a few days. It's definitely not my best chapter, but I hope the epilogue will make up for that! And I look forward to reading your reviews!
The sound of rainfall begins at 5 in the morning. Brittany stirs slightly; Santana still sleeps like a rock, softly snoring. The sound morphs into a rainforest with birds chirping and the sound of waterfalls. On the other side of the bed, the sound of rain comes through the baby monitor.
"If it we didn't live in Southern California, I'd be sure that the party was ruined," Santana says from the other side of the bed, her voice muffled with her pillow, startling Brittany.
"It rains in Southern California. You know I hate it when people think we have no weather here."
"Sure, we have weather. We have the rainy season for two months and the super hot, dry, season for ten. And we're in the middle of the latter."
"True. And I guess I'm happy that it's just the Pierce-Lopez love of rain sounds and not real rain here to ruin our babies' second birthday party."
"Are you ready for today?" Santana asks.
"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."
"Thanks for staying over last night," Quinn whispers to Rachel, tapping her nose with her index finger.
"Thanks for having me, again," Rachel responds.
"You know, I think that I'm okay with this whole thanking each other for everything habit we've fallen into."
"Me too. I really am grateful to have you in my life."
"Me too, you cheese-ball. Now, aren't you about half-an-hour past your workout regiment?"
"I can think of a better way to get my daily exercise," Rachel whispers, pressing in closer to Quinn.
"Na-uh. The girls are going to be up in any minute. Get up and go on your run, woman!"
Santana's a little sad for some reason, and she's not exactly sure why. Brittany is bathing the twins and her mother is outside making sure the string lights are even and perfectly spaced. The caterers have started to come and set up their food. They decided on no entertainment because the twins were two young to enjoy it, but to hire caterers so that they could spend time with their friends instead of running around cooking and cleaning and making sure that everyone has drinks.
"Something got you down, Santana?" Santana turns to see Frank standing in the doorway of her living room, two mugs in his hand. She forces a smile toward him.
"Just stressed out about the party. You're here early," she says. He smiles and a blush rushes up his neck to his ears. Santana smirks. "You stayed over, didn't you? My mother, that hussy." She laughs quietly to herself. Frank offers her one of the cups of coffee.
"I'll get another one for your mom in a second," he says, noticing the question in Santana's eyes. They stand next to each other in silence, sipping their coffee, and looking at the photographs on the mantle. "It's hard, I know, watching everyone grow up and change."
"What are you talking about?" She snaps.
He points to the pictures. There's one of Santana and Brittany on their wedding day, one of Brittany in bed with the twins the day they were born, Santana beaming over Brittany's shoulder. There's a picture of Brittany dancing when she was with the modern dance troupe when Santana was in college and a photo of her parents on their wedding day.
"Your babies turn two today. It seems like just yesterday you were running around making sure Brittany had everything she needed when she was pregnant. Like it was a week ago that you called your mom to tell her you and Brittany were engaged. Two weeks ago you were studying for the bar and wondering what the hell you were doing with your life. Like you just lost your father last month and it probably isn't more than six months ago that you were celebrating a birthday when you couldn't see above your father's knees."
Santana bites back her witty retort, knowing that Frank is right.
"Who knows," Frank continues, rubbing his brow and taking a sip of coffee. "It could just be that I'm an avidly anti-birthday person myself. I passed each birthday with a sense of loss. Loss of my twenties and then loss of my children's infancy, my children's childhood, being one-step closer to the loss of my own parents. It was my late-wife who taught me how to celebrate each year moving forward, how to celebrate change."
"I didn't know your wife passed away."
"When my boys were still young. Breast cancer. Embrace aging, Santana. Your babies may not be babies much longer, but, God, the joy your in for as you seem them develop into full-grown human beings with their own personalities and emotions is unsurpassed by anything you will experience in this lifetime. Anyway, that's enough of an old man's ramblings." He turns toward the kitchen.
"Hey, Frank?" Santana calls after him. He stops in the doorway. "You like football?"
"I was quite the Gridiron player in my day." Frank replies. Santana rolls her eyes.
"Well, we're a Bengals family, sometimes we have parties here on game-days. You should come sometimes."
"I'd like that, Santana," Frank says.
"I NEED MY GUITAR!"
"Lily, if you don't get into this car right now, we don't go to Aunt B's and S's at all. Do you understand me?" Quinn asks, her arms across her chest.
"If we don't have my guitar, I don't want to got at all anyway!" Lily exclaims.
"What has gotten into you, young lady?" Quinn asks, picking Lily up by the waist and sitting her down on the front stairs. Lily crosses her arms across her chest. "I'm serious, young lady, what is going on?"
"I just want my guitar."
"Not until you tell me what's wrong."
"I don't want to talk about it."
They stare at each other for a moment, Quinn suddenly very aware of genetics as she sees the icy-blue glare she perfected so well in High School mirrored back at her.
"Will you please tell me what's wrong? I really don't want to miss Nico and Olivia's party, but if you keep behaving like this, I'll have to send Harper and Hannah and Rachel without us." Lily sighs and rolls her eyes in a particularly Santana fashion and suddenly Quinn isn't certain how much has to do with genetics anymore.
"I hate all of you. And Dad is going to be there, and he's going to be mad that you have a new husband. And I don't want to give Nico and Olivia those stupid clothes because Aunt S told me when she got the puppy for Aunt B that the best gifts are thoughtful and personal."
"Honey, I don't have a new husband."
"What about Rachel? Isn't she your girlfriend?'
"Well, of course she is, but that's not the same as a husband."
"Oh." Lily says, her frown decreasing somewhat. "I thought they were the same thing."
"I loved you Dad, sweetheart, and I love Rachel. And now Rachel is Mommy's girlfriend, but that doesn't make Rachel Mommy's husband. Your Dad knows that Rachel is my girlfriend now."
"But aren't Aunt S and Aunt B husbands and wives?"
"No, they're just each others wives, sweetheart." Lily furrows her eyebrows together.
"I thought when you got married you became husband and wife."
"Well, when two women get married they become wives, and when two men get married then become husbands, and when a man and a woman get married they become husband and wife."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"And Rachel and I aren't married so she's my girlfriend."
"Can I get my guitar?"
"Why do you need your guitar, sweetheart?"
"Because Rachel told me that when you were in Ohio you combined peoples names and that she and Finn were 'Finchel' and Aunt S and Aunt B were 'Santittany' and I wrote a song about Nicovia I wanted to sing to them for their birthday because it's just from me and it's special because they're my favorite cousins." Quinn can't help but laugh out loud.
"Okay, darling, you go get your guitar."
"What was that about?" Rachel whispers when they get back in the car, guitar and all.
"I'll talk to you about it later, but let me just say, I'm glad my child's temper tantrums are about confusing gender lexicon and giving individualized gifts."
"They're good kids," Rachel says.
"God, I know. I'm lucky."
All of a sudden everyone is there. Neighbors, colleagues, friends, playmates from preschool. Everyone is mingling in corners—the dancers, the lawyers, the friends from High School and the friends from College, the other parents. There are the outliers—Justin stands awkwardly talking with Lily as though she's telling him the meaning of life. Mercedes is everyone's favorite guest because she has an infant and everyone loves babies.
Kurt and Sam are all over one another. Puck is drunk and regaling one of the dancer's who works with Brittany with a probably fake story about working on some action film. Even Sarah is there, and if Santana didn't know any better, she was hitting on Sasha, one of Santana's cheerleading friends from college.
"Remember, baby," Brittany whispers, sneaking up behind Santana. "This day is just about these squirts. They're two! You don't need to worry about all the other crap."
"God, why is everyone so worried about me today! I'm fine!" Santana defends herself. Nico reaches over to her and Santana takes him out of Brittany's arms. He swats Santana in between the eyes and then tries to place a big, open-mouthed kiss in between her eyebrows.
"See. You're furrowing. Even Nico can see it." Santana pulls her head away so she can look her son in the face.
"Am I furrowing little man?" She asks.
"Funny Mama," he replies. "Aguacate?"
"All this kid cares about is food. Let's get him some guacamole."
"You look good," Justin says, surprising Quinn at the food table. "You look happy," he continues.
"Thank you," Quinn says.
"You both look happy," Justin says.
"Thanks," Quinn says again.
"Look, I'm sorry for everything, Quinn."
"I know, I am too."
"Thanks for letting me be here today."
"It has nothing to do with me. Santana and Brittany invited you."
"I know that Santana and Brittany wouldn't have invited me if they hadn't gotten the okay from you first. Santana would never let me forget that she has always, and will always, play for Team Quinn. So thank you. They've become kind of like family after all this time."
"I know," Quinn says. "That's why I would never stop them from having you here."
"They're about to open presents," Rachel says, timidly approaching the table. Quinn smiles at her. It's a genuine, somewhat bashful smile and Rachel tries to ignore the way Justin's eyes drop at seeing it.
"Shall we?" Quinn asks, raising her can of soda to Justin.
'Of course. I wouldn't want to miss the presents. I hear that Lily has quite the surprise planned for Nico and Olivia.
Present opening is endless. Santana and Brittany have to help them with most of their gifts, and the babies seem much more content shredding the wrapping paper than looking at their new trucks, ukuleles, or blocks.
"What's next?" Santana asks.
"Okay, so I wrote this song for Nico and Olivia because they're two and two is a very important age. And my mom just told me about husbands today so ignore that part of the song." Lily says, approaching the front of the group with her guitar. Santana pats a space beside her for Lily to sit down, but Lily glares and shoos her off into the crowd.
"Nicovia are the luckiest kids, they have the best moms," Lily began strumming on her guitar. "When B and S became husbands, they'd never known that they'd have babies one day, but because they're awesome husbands, now they get to be awesome moms!"
"What the fuck is this song, Q," Santana whispers to Quinn.
"It doesn't even rhyme."
"She's seven, Santana. And she wrote it for Nico and Olivia. And you're her guitar teacher, so really you're too blame. Besides, I think the twins are enjoying it."
Sure enough, Nico was sitting in front next to Lily clapping and Olivia was lightly swaying her head back and forth.
"I'd like to make a toast," Maria says, after Lily finishes her song to the cheers of the group. "Excuse me, I'd like to make a toast," Maria tries again, slapping her plastic spoon on the neck of her beer. Santana rolls her eyes.
"DO NOT MAKE ME GO ALL LIMA HEIGHTS SANTANA LOPEZ. 80% of you know what that means. The other 20% don't want to learn. My dear, drunk, mother has something to say." Santana gestured to her mother.
"Thank you, Santana. Many, many years ago, Santana and Brittany went to their Senior Prom together. I'm sure many of you here today didn't realize that they've been together that long. Afterward, I caught a very drunk Santana and Brittany sneaking up into her room, breaking, for possibly the hundredth time—"
"Millionth," Santana cuts in.
"The millionth time," Maria continued, "our open-door policy. My, then eighteen-year-old daughter, proceeded to explain to me that when their children Rainbow and Amy were teenagers there would be no open-door policy in their household." There were chuckles around the room. "I can't tell you how pleased I am that my grandchildren are not named Rainbow and that it is quite obvious that the open-door policy will be very much in place come 12 years."
"Not true!" Santana yelled. We're very liberal parents!"
"You don't even let them eat refined sugar, Santana. And I think we both know what teenagers eat behind—"
"Enough!" Santana yelled. "My mother, everyone."
The sun is starting to set and most of the guests have found their way home. Puck is still flirting with a dancer and Maria and Frank are curled up in a bench outside.
"This was nice," Rachel says to Quinn, sipping on a glass of Sangria.
"Yeah. It really was."
"I like going to things like this with you. As my girlfriend. As my non-secret, legitimate, we're in love girlfriend."
"I like that too, Rach." Quinn leans over and pecks Rachel on the lips.
"Get a room!" Santana yells. "Or go to your own house!"
"Help me get the kids to the car?" Quinn asks Rachel, ignoring Santana. Rachel nods and stands on her toes to give Quinn another peck.
"Anytime," Rachel says.
It ends as uneventfully as it began, and that, in and of itself is startling to Santana. A morning with the same alarm clock she's used since she was 16. Another party. Another evening next to Brittany. Suddenly everyone is gone, they are getting ready for bed, just as they have every night before this, only on this night her children are two-years-old.
"Are you ready to go to the doctor tomorrow?" Brittany asks Santana, rubbing lotion on her elbows as she sits on the edge of the bed.
"More than ready," Santana replies. "I feel like it's all coming together, B. I'm ready to complete our family." Brittany laughs. "That's not funny!" Santana says, still pulling a brush through her hair.
"I know, baby, I know. It's just, you realize that it's like saying a never ending puzzle will all eventually fit together. It will never be complete." Santana raises her eyebrows at her wife. "Like how it felt when we won Nationals, like a big bow was tied on High School. Or how you looked the day you graduated from College. Or the day the twins were born. All of this will never be complete, we'll just keep adding and adding to our really big puzzle of milestones and goals and making a bigger and bigger puzzle."
"I like that, B," Santana says, crawling into bed and turning off the light on her bedside table. "Like we'll never really know what's going on but we just keep doing it to see what it's going to look like in the end."
"Exactly," Brittany says, crawling into bed. "Our big unknown puzzle. And tomorrow we get to add another piece."
"I love you, Britt."
"I love you too, Santana."
"Goodnight," Santana says, placing a tender kiss on Brittany's temple. She wraps her arm over Brittany's back so that their hands are clasped in front of Brittany's chest and her nose nuzzles into the back of Brittany's neck.
"Sweet dreams," Brittany whispers.