"Now?" Santana mouthed as she rested against the doorframe of the walk-in closet she and Brittany shared.
Brittany nodded as she tucked her phone between her ear and shoulder while trying to decide what to wear. "Santana and I have something going on this afternoon, Holly. So I can't be there for long."
Santana got her attention and motioned for the phone.
Brittany shook her head.
The brunette widened her eyes in that way she always gets Max to immediately comply. "Phone," she said with authority.
"Nuh uh."
"Let me talk to her."
"Uh, Holly, San wants to t-"
Santana swiped the phone before she could say anymore, "You said two weeks, Holiday. Two weeks with my wife and you wouldn't call her with any insane chaotic problems or disappear into South America again. Two whole weeks! It's barely been two days. You promised me!"
"We're having a problem with the Big Wee's team," Holly told her. "They want to talk to her. They won't budge."
"You can't take care of it?"
"They've been dealing with Brittany," Holly explained. "She's the best. They know it. I know it. You know it."
Santana deflated. She did know it. Brittany had been working on this campaign and with these people for months. If she had to go, she had to go. Just like Big Wee's.
She handed the phone back to Brittany, "You'll make it back, right?"
Brittany knew better than to make promises, "I'll do my best."
Santana knew that meant there was a 50/50 shot. "Ugh," she complained.
She was elated for Brittany's success. Britt had earned it. She was an advertising genius. The woman just had a knack for coming up with stuff that stuck in people's heads. It was quite remarkable to see the process from Brittany randomly spewing out something seemingly ridiculous while lying in bed at night to that phrase plastered on billboards or set to music. The latest being Big Wee's, which had been stuck in Santana's head for weeks now.
No need to rush,
No need to flush,
We've got you covered
With Big Wee's!
Damn that Will Schuester and his catchy jingles.
"Try really hard!" Santana begged.
Brittany hung up the phone and set it on a shelf. She held out her hand for Santana, "Come here."
Santana rolled her eyes but let herself be dragged over to her wife, "Yes?"
"I love you," Brittany cupped Santana's face and pulled her even closer. "I love you and I'm so sorry that I have to go to work."
"Hmm."
"Did I mention that I love you?"
"Yeah, yeah," Santana smiled as Brittany pecked her forehead with kisses, "I love you, too."
"Make me believe it."
Santana tilted her face up to catch Brittany's lips, "I. Love. You. And I'll love you even more if you make it back."
"I'll try, baby," Brittany said. "And if I don't, I'll send a suitable replacement."
#####
Three hours later, Santana opened the door to Kurt.
"Really?"
"I was summoned to accompany you to your appointment," Kurt said with a curtsy.
Santana was skeptical, "You? You are going with me to birthing class?"
Kurt gulped, "Brittany said it was to pick out a knockout maternity gown for the hospital."
"Ah," the brunette crossed her arms. "She tricked you. That Brittany Pierce is a sly one."
"Is it too late to back out?"
"Yep!" Santana said. "You're here already and I can't fit behind a steering wheel."
"What about Jamie?"
"James is on Max duty."
"Can't we switch?"
"Nope," Santana said with a grin.
"Can I call Brittany and ask if we can switch?" Kurt asked hopefully.
"Better question," Santana said. "Why didn't she call me herself?"
"Oh," Kurt had an answer for this. "She said if she called you, she'd get all the rapid fire Spanish and that would just make her hungry for tacos."
Santana nodded, realizing that Brittany's assessment was probably right. Then, she was nodding because that sounded good. "Tacos..."
Kurt pulled a bag from behind his back, "She also said that after I mentioned tacos, you'd want one."
"She knows me well," Santana smiled and accepted the bag.
"Also," Kurt had a bit of a nervous twitch. "I think it's important to mention that Rachel is also here. In fact, she's hiding in that bush." Kurt wiggled his finger toward the shrubbery next to the front door.
"Traitor!" Santana heard.
"I think she would have figured it out eventually, Rachel," Kurt told her.
"You could have eased her into it."
"Wow," Santana said, barely making the outline of Rachel inside the bush. "That shrubbery has never been more unattractive."
"Heads up," Kurt said. "She practiced an a cappella version of Sweet Child of Mine all the way over here."
"It was Teach Your Children Well!"
"Rachel," Santana groaned. "Get the fuck outta my landscaping. You're going to give me night terrors."
The other woman did as she asked and exited with a leaf in her hair.
"So this is my suitable replacement?" Santana asked. "The princess and the peabrain?"
"I'm the princess!" both Kurt and Rachel said simultaneously.
Santana took a deep, cleansing breath. "No singing - solo or dueting. No dancing - spontaneous or choreographed. And Rachel," Santana's eyes bore into hers. "Try your best to be someone else. Someone less annoying."
"Why would you say that?"
"Because you're annoying," Santana said simply. "You annoy me. You annoy Brittany. You annoy Max. The whole city of Seattle gets irritated when you hit Pacific Northwest airspace."
Rachel accepted that she was indeed pretty annoying. "I'll try."
"Those are the rules and they are non-negotiable."
"What about humming?" Rachel asked.
"Non-negotiable, Berry."
"You know I have to run through my scales seven times a day."
"I don't care," Santana said. "Those are the rules."
"Fine," Rachel relented. "Let's go."
After Kurt and Rachel helped Santana descend her front steps, she quickly realized where they were leading her to.
"Oh, no. No. No. No," Santana stopped abruptly. "I'm not rolling up to birthing class in your limo."
"What's wrong with my limo?" Rachel was genuinely confused. "Figgins can map the quickest route and Beiste is on board to barricade traffic if need be."
So many years had passed that Santana had forgotten how insane in the membrane Rachel actually was. "Why would we need Beiste to barricade traffic?"
"Why wouldn't we?"
Santana tried to fit the pieces together, but decided it was for the best if she just let it go. "We'll go in my car. Kurt can drive us there. We don't need Figgins or Beiste. Honestly, we don't need you, but leaving you here would mean you'd torture my son all day."
"Keys?" Kurt asked, holding up his hand. Santana pulled them out of her bag and tossed them to him. He, of course, missed them.
Soon enough she was deposited in the backside of her own car, with her taco, while Kurt navigated the busy Seattle streets.
As she watched the buildings pass, soon curiosity got the best of her.
"Rachel," she called.
Rachel gave her a quick glance backward, "Yes?"
"How did you know to coordinate this little visit?" Santana wondered. "My parents wouldn't have contacted you to fly them out here."
"Oh," Rachel chanced a look in Kurt's direction. He purposely ignored it. "I...well...I might have done a little private investigating on your approximate delivery due date."
"How did you go about doing that?"
"It's possible I talked to Dr. Tibideaux, your obstetrician."
Santana chewed slowly on her soft taco, trying not to get upset, "She gave you that information?"
"I asked medical professional to medical professional."
"You're not a medical professional, Rachel!"
"I played Dr. Gloria Holt in last year's sleeper hit Not Without My Doctor?" Rachel argued. "I have you know that it was in Emmy contention!"
"Emmys mean nothing in my house," Santana told her. "We're all about the Clios."
"Okay, well she didn't actually give me any information," Rachel admitted. "Apparently, that's extremely illegal. I just asked a lot of leading questions and then sang a medley of songs from Seussical the Musical until she politely asked me to never contact her again. When that plan failed, I had a PI follow you and take photographs. Afterwards, I had those photographs studied by my S.W.A.F. team and finally settled on this week."
Santana knew not to ask. Everything about it was telling her not to ask, but she had to. "S.W.A.F. huh?"
"Santana with a fetus," Rachel said.
"Of course, I should have known," she replied. "I should have known you were behind that creepy feeling I was being watched, too."
"You couldn't have."
"Yeah, I could," Santana told her. "I was almost positive I saw Jacob Ben Israel monitoring me inconspicuously from behind a newspaper a couple of weeks ago."
"I can neither confirm nor deny that JBI is on my payroll."
"Brittany told me I was being paranoid."
"You absolutely should be," Kurt said as he merged out of heavy traffic. "Bitch be cray."
"I had only the best of intentions," Rachel said. "This event was a long time coming."
Rachel was referring to Santana's handful of failed attempts at getting pregnant. She had tried for nearly a year before declaring that maybe they were meant to be a one-child family. She, along with Brittany, decided that she'd make one last attempt before moving on. BayLo was that last attempt.
"True," Santana answered, patting her tummy. "My uterus is apparently not very welcoming. It's probably as judgmental as I am. Like 'Who the fuck are you? What are you doing here? Rattails were out in 1990.'"
Kurt laughed before asking, "Are you nervous?"
"Of course," she answered. "I'm nervous about the birth. I'm nervous about taking her home. I'm nervous about her being a teenager."
"But, you have a while before she's that age," Rachel said, trying to be helpful.
"Not as much as you'd think. I'm not disillusioned or anything. Max has always been easy. He has those nice, polite Pierce genes," Santana said, "But this kid...ah. I'm suddenly reminded of every fit I've ever thrown, every tantrum, every time I threw a boombox through a plate glass window."
"Just how many times did you do that?" Kurt asked.
"Hm...do you remember in college when I convinced you that Adam Crawford was so pissed because you stood him up that he threw a brick through your windshield?"
"Yeah."
"That was me."
"Whaaat?" Kurt squealed. "No."
"Yep."
"Couldn't have been," Rachel said. "There was a whole campus investigation."
"You stole my favorite shade of raspberry red lip gloss, so I decided to bust the windows out your car."
"But..." Kurt was flabbergasted. "Quinn testified that she saw Adam running from the scene."
"And that was not perjury," Santana pointed out. "He was running from the scene...in fear."
"Poor Adam Crawford," Kurt lamented. "An unwilling sacrifice in your evil schemes."
"Some people get trampled in the process," Santana said without much guilt.
"Why didn't you tell me that?" Rachel questioned.
"You can't keep secrets," Santana said matter-of-factly. "And now the statute of limitations has passed."
"Did I tell you I saw Quinn not too long ago?" Kurt said after some of the shock had worn off. "She's still in New York."
"Is she still divorced?"
"Yes," Kurt stated. "She's started a new venture, though. Apparently, she's a charter member of the new Mothers Against Drunk Texting taskforce."
"Is she now?"
"Yep, and just to clear up any confusion, that has nothing to do with driving in any way, shape, or form. It's strictly drunk texting. M.A.D.T. An organization of mothers, for mothers."
"Good for her," Santana told him. "It's always nice to have a hobby. Mine is angry lesbian blogging. Because I'm a lesbian. And I'm angry. And I have a computer."
"I did a little angry lesbian blogging when I was with KStew," Rachel announced. "But as soon as we broke up, I went back to just regular blogging."
A little direction for Kurt and a few turns later, they had arrived in the parking lot. Kurt immediately jumped out to help Santana. Rachel, however, had other things more pressing.
"Rachel, what..." Santana closed her eyes momentarily, trying to keep calm, "what are you doing?"
Rachel, who had trying out a myriad of different pairs of sunglasses that were packed meticulously in her bag, said, "Which pair best hides my identity?"
"The Clark Kent pair," Santana answered sarcastically. "What the hell?"
"I really don't want to be recognized," Rachel said. "I'm not prepped for that."
"Okay, hey," Santana leaned up as much as pregnantly possible. "I used to do this for a living. So, I can prep you."
Rachel was quick with a smile. "You will?"
"Of course."
"Okay."
Santana tried to look as sincere as possible, "If somebody asks you a question, you should take on the role of a normal human being and answer it accordingly."
Rachel let that soak in a bit. "What's my character?"
"The opposite of Rachel," Santana said. "Let's call her Lehcar."
"Oooo, let's make it French, Le Car."
"Great idea," she said shimmying out of her bucket seat. "Don't worry, I'll handle everything."
Santana took Kurt's outstretched hand and exited the vehicle. "She's insane," she said to him when her feet were finally on the ground.
"And you left me with her to fend for myself," Kurt muttered.
"Has it been that bad?" she asked.
"She lost Marley to Gary Busey in a poker game."
"Holy shit!" Santana was taken aback. "She's playing poker with Busey?"
"Strip poker. It was Marley or her golden thongs."
Rachel shutting the car door effectively ended the conversation. She confidently strode toward the entrance to the building and then turned and called, "Are you coming, slowpokes?"
"Same old Rachel," Santana said.
"She needs you," Kurt commented as he offered his arm to walk her in.
"Not an option."
"I'm just saying."
"Well, stop saying."
"Never."
Santana waved to the instructor as they passed through the doors, "Hi Brenda."
Brenda Castle, the certified instructor and creator of The Brenda Method of Childbirthing Naturally and Comfortably, came right over to greet them. "Santana, hello. Where's Brittany?"
"Working," she frowned.
"Oh," Brenda looked at Kurt and Rachel, "Well, you know that only your partner or birthing coach is allowed to accompany you."
"No, no," Santana said, "these are friends that I've recommended you to. They're just here for the sit-in session."
"There's a fee," Brenda said politely.
"This one will pay it," she nudged Rachel.
The motion may Rachel's glasses slip down her nose slightly and she quickly pushed them back up. "Money's no object...for some. I...earn a meager working woman's salary."
"Husband and wife?"
"Both pregnant," Santana said. "Kurt and Licker."
"It's French," Rachel said, not liking Santana's pronunciation. "Le Car."
"Or just Licker," Santana stated to Brenda. "Not like alcohol, though. This is just plain ol' Licker."
Brenda gave both of them long looks, "You don't look pregnant," she told Rachel. She then eyed Kurt, "And you're a man."
"That's both sexist and insensitive," Kurt answered back quickly.
"And she's having a dwarf," Santana said in reference to Rachel. "She's carrying most the weight in her thighs."
"Alright," Brenda smiled. "Grab a ball and join the circle."
Several other couples had already arrived and were balancing on their exercise balls in a giant circle around the room. Kurt immediately rolled a ball over for himself and Santana, edging between two of the other pairs. Rachel was left standing there, without a ball.
"Uh, Kurt," she stomped her foot.
"Get your own ball, Licker," Kurt snapped back.
Rachel snarled a bit before asking what the opposite of herself would do, then she answered herself...out loud. "Le Car would get her own ball." She then proceeded to roll her huge inflatable ball to her intended destination. Unfortunately, the exact spot she wanted was already in use. "Excuse me," she said to the people who had been there for twenty minutes before she ever arrived.
The pregnant woman looked at her in confusion.
"I want this spot."
"Ma'am," Brenda called for her. "Just pick any other area."
Rachel was going to argue, but it was clear she dropped back into character. "Le Car would go somewhere else."
Brenda, hearing Rachel talking herself, approached Santana, "Is your friend alright?"
"She's just testy because she likes to be able to see outside," Santana assured Brenda. "No worries." She waved to Rachel, "Look, we saved you a seat by the window, Licker."
Twenty minutes later, Kurt scooted his ball a little closer to Santana's and whispered, "What's so special about Brenda's method?"
Santana shrugged, "I have no idea. Brittany insisted she was the best when she was pregnant with Max. Then, she thought it was important to do it again since our roles will be switched."
"Yet, she's not here."
"It's cool," Santana told him. She gestured to a couple across the room, "We've spend most of our class time talking about how painful it's going to be for Lindsay's undoubtedly uptight vagina to pass a baby with the size of Lance's head."
"Ouch," Kurt agreed when he saw the guy in question. He then nodded to Rachel, who was taking the timing of contractions very seriously. In fact, she was 100% committed to that role.
Santana thumped Rachel's ball seat, which caused her to stop screaming. "Hey!"
"Would you settle down over there?"
"This is a great acting exercise, Santana," Rachel checked the clock on the wall, "Plus, my contractions are now three minutes apart."
"Whatever, just...no need for all the dramatics."
"Fine, besides all this huffing and puffing and has got me parched." Rachel looked at the first person who caught her eye and shouted, "Can someone get me a Tasmanian Rainwater?"
"Licker would get an Aquafina out of the vending machine and then shut the fuck up," Santana told her.
The next hour flew by as the three of them were finally instructed to circle up and cool down. As they all worked on their breathing techniques, Brenda took her place in the center of the circle.
"And remember as we exhale slowly, that giving birth is much like pushing a cannonball through a cocktail stirrer," Brenda said calmly. "Only, you breastfeeders can't drink for a year and you'll be supporting that cannonball for another twenty."
"A year?" Kurt asked Santana. "I don't think I can make that kind of commitment to my fake baby."
#####
"Well, that was fun," Rachel said brightly as soon as the three of them loaded back into the car. "Wasn't that fun?"
"About as much fun as soaking myself in kerosene and dancing in a fire cage," Santana answered.
"It wasn't that bad."
"Easy for you to say," Santana poked Rachel in the shoulder. "You don't actually have the real thing coming up in a few days."
"Just a few days," Kurt said cheerily. "Then it'll be over and you'll have a beautiful baby to dote on."
"Not even close to over. Just beginning."
"What do you mean?" Rachel asked.
"Then the real stuff starts," Santana claimed. "Diapers, nightly feedings, zero sleep."
"That reminds me of Shasta, my lioness," Rachel reminisced. "God, I miss that beast."
"At least with your lion, you d-"
"Lion-ess, Santana."
"At least with your lioness, you didn't have to worry about preschool spots or college tuitions."
"Nope," Rachel said. "Just animal control."
"Preschool spots?" Kurt asked. "You have to secure a spot for preschool?"
"Are you kidding?" Santana scoffed. "Brittany had us filling out applications for the baby's preschool a few months ago. That's how she originally became BayLo. We put Baby Lopez on all the forms."
"That's crazy," Kurt said. "Max isn't even preschool yet."
"He's been accepted to a pretty good one, though," Santana bragged.
"Already?"
"Well, yeah."
"How?" Rachel inquired. "Don't you just pay for those things? Did you donate for a Nursery Rhyme wing or something?"
"He had a interview," Santana stated like this was common knowledge. "And he aced it."
"Max?" Kurt asked, trying to wrap his head around the concept. "Like actual questions and answers?"
"Yes. He was brilliant. He has a diverse family, a genuine interest in astronomy, and looks dapper in a suit."
"Wow," Kurt was still astonished. "I never figured you for that kind."
"Listen, I'm not one of those parents who thinks my kid is the cutest or the smartest," Santana told him. "I know my kid is the cutest and the smartest. When I showed those annoying bitches at the office the picture of his first big boy poo, I got genuine sentiments."
#####
Santana discovered quickly as they returned to her home that any idea she had of relaxing was probably a pipe dream. Figgins had retrieved the rest of the family while they were out and all the respective parents were currently taking up the living room. Abuela was still intently watching Javier type furiously about his love for the woman in the next cubicle and Kurt was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.
As she scanned the room for a little one, Jamie answered the question before she asked it.
"He's taking a nap in his room."
"Thanks," Santana smiled and set out to find her boy.
She waddled to his door and peeked inside. Max was all tucked in, hands curled under his chin. She crept in and settled on the edge of his bed to watch him sleep. The slight movement of the bed woke Ruffles, who inched up to put his head on Santana's thigh. She gave the dog a few scratches before redirecting her attention to her son. Max's dark eyelashes fluttered just a little bit and Santana smiled. She couldn't help reaching out and combing his hair down where it always stuck straight up. He shifted a bit, which made Santana hold her breath for a second. She soon relaxed when he fell right back asleep, though.
Her eyes traveled from Max to the picture framed on his nightstand. It was taken on the very day that they found out Santana was pregnant with BayLo. Max was in the center with his blinding smile, both his arms stretched around his Moms' shoulders.
She was always amazed by how miraculously Max looked a lot like her in all the conventional ways. He had a similar skin tone, a set of deep brown eyes, and the same black hair. They had been really picky when it came to picking his donor. She figured most couples in the same situation were, but Brittany had been relentless about getting someone whose features most closely resembled Santana's.
Despite that, it still made Santana's heart soar when she saw the little similarities between Brittany and Max. He had the same mischievous grin. She couldn't count how many times she had noticed them sitting around in the exact same position. And, of course, they both slept curled into a little Pierce ball.
She was lost in the comparisons when her phone started to ring in her hand. "Hey," she answered quietly.
"Hi," Brittany said back. "Are you hiding?"
"Watching Max sleep."
"Oh," her wife replied. "A little late for a nap."
"Lots going on, though," Santana said. "He needs the rest."
"True..." Brittany paused. "You don't sound mad."
"Should I be?"
"I'd rather you not be, but I'd understand if you were."
"It's okay," Santana lifted Ruffles' head off her lap and pulled herself up with great effort. "I totally understand you want to get everything done before BayLo gets here."
"This is the last day I'll be away from you," Brittany said. "I promise."
"Don't-"
"No, I promise," she repeated.
Santana gave Max's blanket a little tug and tucked it tightly around him. "I miss you."
"Me, too."
"I know," Santana walked toward the hallway, "And I know I'm being all hormonally clingy."
"You're allowed," Brittany said. "You remember how I was?"
"You cried one night when I got up to get pizza from the delivery boy."
"I'm not proud of that."
"It was adorable," Santana assured her.
"Fatal Attraction adorable?"
"You weren't that bad, babe," Santana said.
"Neither are you."
"When are you going to be here?"
Brittany waited a second to answer. That was never good. "Uh..."
"You don't know."
"Well, they're having some reservations about a pretty controversial ad idea we had."
"Ah, 'Big Wee's is the best, I shit you not,'" Santana already knew what she was referring to.
"Bingo."
"Good luck."
"I'll need it," Brittany said.
"Love you."
"You more."
As she pressed the red button disconnecting her from Brittany, she felt a dark presence. She quickly looked up to find Rachel standing awkwardly in the corridor. "Damn, Rach, you scared me."
"Sorry," Rachel said as she approached.
Santana watched suspiciously. "It's okay."
"Were you in there with Max?"
"Yeah."
"He's asleep?"
"Ye-ah," Santana's eyebrows furrowed. "But that doesn't mean you should come any closer."
"Oh," she halted quickly. "I just..I..."
"Rachel, just tell me whatever it is you want," Santana said. "I know it's something."
"Why would I want anything?"
"Rachel."
"Why?"
"Come off it and just spill."
"Fine," Rachel huffed. "I want to be in consideration."
Santana waited for the rest, but it never came. "Consideration? Consideration for what exactly?"
"Only the greatest compliment you can bestow upon a friend...a best friend."
Santana was still clueless. "And that is?"
"I want to be your baby's godmother."
"You want to what?" Santana asked. "Oh. Hm. Well."
"Is that a yes?"
"That's a...well, this is something I have to discuss with my wife, Rachel."
"Of course," Rachel nodded. "Of course, it is. You should talk to Brittany about it."
"Yeah." Santana grimaced. "Though, you know, Max is kinda...terrified of you."
"I'm not sure terrified is the right word."
"Frightened? Horrified? Petrified? Stuck in a state of unadulterated fear whenever you're around? Are any of those words better?"
"He might be a little less than comfortable with me, possibly."
"Oh, sure, that might be it," sarcasm oozed out of Santana's words.
"Exactly. Sooo...what do you think Brittany would say?" Rachel asked. "Is she still mad at me about that whole Red Carpet thing? Or the wedding thing? Or drugboat thing?"
"Probably not," Santana answered. "She gets over things pretty easily."
"Santana, just so you know, I was born to do this. I was born to be your daughter's fairy godmother."
"That's a great argument, really it is. But, Berry, c'mon. In the time that I've known you, you've been born to sing, dance, act, paint, be a quarterback's wife and for a very brief second you were born to be my fake lesbian lover... so... you'll forgive me for having a few doubts."
"I know that I haven't always been the most responsible person. Or warm, or overly caring..."
"Or very fond of children..."
"But I love you."
"Ew."
"And Brittany. And Max. And whoever this little one is going to be. I love your family just like you were my own family. You are my family."
"And you're jealous of Kurt?"
"I'm so jealous of Kurt," Rachel admitted.
"You must really want this," Santana said. "I actually sense some sincerity."
"I do!"
"I'll talk to her."
#####
The rest of the evening was a flurry of activity. Max woke up and charmed everyone by being the cutest kid in the world. Jamie challenged Santana with cleverly crafted barbs. Abuela eventually pulled herself away from her story to cook an amazing dinner. Remarkably, Santana didn't even bitch when Rachel and Kurt sang an impromptu rendition of 'I Don't Know Much' to close out the entertainment for the evening. She knew she was lucky to have these people in her life and in her home. She just wished Brittany was there, too.
With that in mind, she tossed and turned in while lying in bed that night. Actually, with her limited mobility and pillow guards, she shifted slightly many times. She never could sleep without her wife in bed next to her. It just felt so empty.
Finally, she reached up to grab her cell phone. She quickly typed in the number she long ago memorized and waited for her favorite blonde to answer.
She did in just a few seconds.
"Hi."
"Hi," Santana said in a small voice. "I'm sorry to bother you if you're still working."
"It's fine, San," Brittany replied. "Always."
"Did you resolve the ad issue?"
"Yes. Took some compromises, but I think we're set."
Santana smiled at that news, "Good."
"How did everything go with the family?"
"Everything went well," Santana answered. "It was a good night. Max wore himself out playing with his grandfathers. We had a nice dinner...it was a good night. Except for my missing wife."
"I know, I know," Brittany said. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay." Santana adjusted in bed one more time. "I can't sleep without you."
"You don't have to."
"Really?"
"Really."
Santana heard the a faint knock and saw the doorknob turn. Finally. When she saw Britt's face, she immediately felt relieved.
Santana put down her phone and offered her wife a little wave, "There she is."
Brittany was kicking off her shoes and pulling off various items of clothing, "I've got to hop in the shower and the-"
"No, no," Santana motioned for her. "Just come over here."
The blonde stopped mid shirt removal and complied. "Okay." She crawled up next to Santana, scooching her pillows over. "I'm here."
Santana blindly found and linked their fingers and promptly fell asleep.
#####
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Happy 21st Birthday, Maggie. ;)