"Where's Santana?" Sam asked as he lifted himself with his arms to settle on the kitchen counter.

"Why do you always ask that?" Brittany said as she crunched on a mouthful of Cheerios. "Are you scared?"

"No!"

"Are, too." She passed him the open box she was eating out of, "Don't worry, pansy ass. She's still asleep."

"One of those nights?" he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Unfortunately, no." Brittany slumped in her seat. "Believe me, I wish. But, no. She's still asleep because she had a rough night."

"She's had a few rough nights lately," Sam said as he grabbed the box. He craned his neck to look around the corner. Getting caught eating Santana's cereal was not the way he wanted his day to start.

"Yeah, well. She's overdue, Sam," Brittany replied. "She's uncomfortable and anxious. And, if we don't have this baby today..."

"Everything's going to be alright, Britt," Sam said quickly.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I know, I know."

"Hey! Maybe we could scare her out!"

"It's not the hiccups. I really don't think if you jump out of a closet, the baby will just fall out," Brittany disapproved of the idea. "Although, if you decide to try, you need to warn me. I'll have my butterfly net ready."

"High risk for getting a pummeling, tho," Sam said. When he glanced back up at Brittany, a weird figure outside the window caught his eye. "Okay, well, that's kind of scary, though," he said pointing.

Brittany turned and upon recognizing the creeper, she waved, "He's not scary. That's Ryder, the neighbor boy. He works at the fish market. Catfish specialist. Slightly more Beibery than you."

"I thought it couldn't be done," Sam frowned. "So hey, that thing we talked about..."

Brittany turned to face him again and rested her elbows on the counter, "Yeah?"

"I would love to," the man smiled. "But, I'm not sure Santana would love it."

"I'm going to talk to her about it, though," Brittany told him. "I know the two of you have had your issues."

"Issues," Sam repeated. "That's one way to put it. She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you."

"She may have just aggressively disliked me before," Sam thought out loud. "But after the Kurt thing, she definitely hates me."

"That's between you and Kurt, though."

"You know it doesn't work like that."

"I'm going to talk to her," Brittany said again. "We each got to pick a godparent for Max. We'll do the same for BayLo."

"But it was Jamie and Kurt," Sam said. "It's not like those are controversial choices. I would definitely be a controversial choice."

"That's true," Brittany dragged the Cheerios box back across the surface. "But you're my oldest friend, Sambo."

With the slight creaking of the hardwood floors, the two of them heard Santana before actually seeing her. Sam hurriedly slipped off the counter.

"So scared," Brittany laughed at him.

"Nuh uh," Sam whispered.

"Hey there, hot stuff," Brittany greeted her wife as soon as she made her way into the kitchen.

Santana didn't even offer one back, she just spun Brittany around in the bar stool. Santana nudged her knees apart and planted herself in between them. She let her forehead drop to Brittany's chest.

"San?" Brittany asked, angling down to get a look at her. "Honey?"

The brunette tilted her head and said ever so softly, "My worst fears are being realized."

"Huh?"

"She's never leaving the womb."

Brittany smiled, just short of laughing, "She's just stubborn like you, Santana. She'll come out when she's good and ready."

"No, she likes it too much in there," Santana cried. "She's gonna figure out how to get cable and a mini fridge and she'll just stay forever."

"Just like my cousin, Steve," Brittany said seriously.

"At least Steve lives in his parents' basement," she pointed out. "This is just ridiculous."

"Santana."

"I just read an American Inquisition article about a woman who gave birth to a two year old."

"Nothing in that magazine is true."

"There were pictures!" Santana protested. "It looked like Godzilla destroying a vagina. It literally came out walking and talking, Britt. Baby's first meal was a burger."

"San," Brittany tilted her head to kiss Santana on her nose, "That's not going to happen to you."

"You don't know that."

"Well, if it does, I'll donate you to science or something."

Santana pulled back, "On behalf of our unborn and unnamed child, I resent that."

"It won't come to that, I promise." Brittany offered her a million watt smile.

Santana tried her best to smile back at her wife. Sam shifting uncomfortably behind her drew her attention away, though. "Whoa, Largemouth Bass, why are you in my kitchen this early in the morning?"

"I told him to come over," Brittany said before Sam could get a word out.

"Oh," Santana stared at him for a minute before saying, "Are you cooking me breakfast? 'Cause Momma and BayLo are hungry."

"Uh..." Sam looked at Brittany, who nodded. "Yes, yes I am. What would you like?"

"Surprise me," she said.

"Okay," Sam twirled around to find something for Santana to eat.

Santana shot a look to Brittany and winked, "He's easy."

"That was a little mean," her wife declared.

Santana shrugged before walking over the fridge and took some milk off the top shelf, "You love me."

"I must," Brittany told her, right before dipping back into the Cheerios.

"Sam," Santana thumped him as she tried to maneuver past. "Grab me a bowl, will ya?"

"Sure," Sam did so immediately.

"What are you doing?" Brittany asked. "I thought you were having Sam cook you breakfast."

"I'm going to soak my panties in milk and see if that will lure her out," Santana announced as she pulled open the utensil drawer and found a spoon.

"That may not work," Brittany looked as if she was thinking it out.

"Nah, probably not," Santana said. She placed the spoon in the bowl and pushed it toward Brittany. She then scooted the milk to her. "Cheerios go in bowls, baby."

#####

An hour later, Santana sat wedged between her grandmother and Kurt on the couch while they continued to soak in Amor en el Probador Contiguo. "So what if he's in love with the girl in the next cubicle?" Santana asked the two of them. "Did there really need to be 50 episodes before he even spoke to her?"

"It's a powerful love story about patience," Kurt said without ever taking his eyes off the screen.

"Oh yeah," Santana nodded. "I patiently want to rip your business attire off, woman who's practically a stranger. Sure, I spend everyday from 9-5 staring at you while you're passing to get coffee, but don't be scared or anything."

"Shush," Abuela tapped her knee. "I can't hear Javier."

"He's not saying anything. It's the same melodramatic voice over that they do every episode," Santana complained. "Yeah, you love her, but office romances are not allowed. We get it."

"It's romantic," Kurt insisted.

"I just watched an hour of them standing in the copy room and not even talking," Santana said. "It's not romantic at all."

"He did talk to her!" Kurt said.

"He asked if she would hand him a ream of paper," Santana said back. "That's hardly a declaration of love."

"You're moody."

"I'm a year pregnant!"

"You're two days past your due date."

"I'm rounding up, Kurt."

"Both of you, quiet." Abuela swiped the remoted and hit pause. She then looked over to Santana, went head to toe, then back up, "You need to have sex."

"Excuse me?" Santana reacted with a half-laugh.

"She's ain't lying, honey," Kurt said in his snappy gay man tone.

"One, it will take care of some of that attitude," Abuela insisted. "But, also, it will help speed along your labor."

"Lopez home remedy?" Santana asked. "You realize I'm a lesbian, right? I'm not sure it works the same."

"It will keep you from interrupting my story. So go find Brittany and stop interrupting my Javier time until I have a beautiful little great-granddaughter to spoil," Abuela said. She pressed the resume button on the remote and picked back up with her program.

"That's just fine," Santana tried to get up so she could stomp out of the room. Unfortunately, her belly was not allowing for quick getaways. "I know when I'm not wanted," she said angrily while she continued to slowly edge toward the end of the couch. "I don't have to stand for this."

"You can't stand anyway," Kurt pointed out. "Do you want some help?"

"Elf off, Kurt," Santana said bitterly as she finally was able to get to her feet. She only needed a little bit of help from the man.

"Britt?" Santana called as she made her way through the house. She turned into the kitchen where Rachel looked to be giving Susan a makeover. "Have you guys seen Brittany?"

"She's outside, honey," Susan answered.

Santana traveled back through her home and finally arrived at the back door that looked over the yard. Brittany, Max, and half the family were out there playing a game of touch football.

"Britt Britt!" Santana yelled sweetly after she cracked open the door. "Can I see you for a second?"

Brittany, who had just caught the football, handed it off to her dad and jogged over. "Be right back," she called over her shoulder.

"Hey," Santana said when she got close.

"Hi. Is everything alright?"

"Yep," the brunette reached out to take her hand. "So, my not so well-intentioned Abuela thinks that the best way to speed up my labor is sex."

"I forfeit!" Brittany yelled to the rest of the players without anymore explanation.

#####

Brittany wasted absolutely no time pulling Santana into their bedroom. She locked the door and pressed her wife against it. "Hi."

"Hi," Santana purred, pulling Brittany into her.

"Let's get you into labor," the blonde said while lifting off Santana's 'Bun in the Oven' t-shirt.

"I don't really think it's going to work."

"Then we'll just keep doing it until it does," Brittany said once the shirt cleared Santana's head. "Okay?"

"Uh huh."

Brittany dropped the shirt on the floor. "I'm glad we're on the same page."

"Same sentence, even."

"Mhm," she palmed Santana's ass and lifted her enough to slip her leg between her thighs.

"Ooo," Santana breath quickened and her head fell involuntarily against the door, "That's nice, baby."

"You're so hot," Brittany said into her ear.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Really, though?"

"Yes."

"Britt?" Santana tried to get her attention.

"Yes," the blonde said absent-mindedly while focusing way more on massaging her wife's breasts.

"Britt."

"Yes."

"Brittany!"

The yelling snapped Brittany out of her stupor. "Yes. What? Huh?"

"You really think I'm hot?" Santana asked. "Even now? But, I'm so...pregnant."

Brittany's hands slipped behind Santana's back and to the clasp of her bra. "Santana Lopez, you're gorgeous. Just as gorgeous as the day I walked into your New York apartment and tried to dry hump you," She snapped the bra open and winked her ultra sexy wink, "You're the sexiest woman I've ever seen, pregnant or not."

Santana couldn't help the cheesy smile on her face, "You really think so?"

Brittany's fingers dipped inside the waistband of her maternity jeans. "I really want to do more than just dry hump you right now."

"Okay," Santana breathed.

Brittany had just about to get to the sunspot stroking when there was a knock on their door.

Just. So. Close.

"NO!"

"Girls?" Maribel called through the door.

"Mami?"

"No!" Brittany said again. "We're busy. Go away."

"Max is asking where his moms are," another voice filtered through.

"Dammit," Brittany said to Santana. She raised her voice, "Tell him we'll be out in a second, Mom."

"Mommy?" Max's tiny voice could be heard.

"Hey Maximus," Brittany said two octaves higher than normal.

"We'll be right out, Max," Santana said as she motioned for Brittany to get her shirt. "Just a sec."

"Sugar Cookie?" Papa Pierce knocked with a rhythmic few bangs. "The teams are uneven."

"And Sam sucks!" they heard Roberto comment.

"Hey!" Sam screeched.

"Are they hand feeding the hamster in there?" Jamie yelled just to piss them off.

"What the fuck?" Santana hissed only loud enough for Brittany to hear. "We were gone for two minutes."

"C'mon, Britt," Paul's bellowed again. "Get back out here."

"Dad, give me a minute!"

"We're coming, Papa Pierce," Santana said as Brittany stretched her t-shirt back over her tummy.

"Actually we're not," Brittany pouted. "Nope. Not at all. You're not. I'm certainly not. Nobody's fucking coming in this house."

"Shh."

"Hey!" Brittany snapped. "I'm allowed some frustration."

"Momma!" several light knocks about three feet from the floor came. "Mom-my!"

Santana finally opened the door, "Hey, Maxxy, Moms are right here."

As soon as Max saw her, he clung to her leg, "Momma, I twied to get a cookie and Wachel almost got me!"

"I was trying to help him!" Rachel objected as she nosed her way past the gathering of people at the door.

"Rachel, don't make me get a restraining order," Santana said while comforting Max.

"C'mon, Max," Brittany picked him up. "Let's go get you a cookie...but just one. You can have one even though Mommy can't get her hands on a cookie for anything."

"Somebody snatch your cookie?" Jamie gave her a light punch on the way by. The look she got in return caused her to take a few steps back.

"Excuse us, excuse us," Brittany said as she and Max tried to navigate the maze of people.

"Mooove," Max said. "It's cookie time!"

As the rest of her little family escaped, all eyes fell on Santana. She forced a smile. "How's it going?" she asked them.

"Uh..." Maribel pointed at her chest.

"What?"

"Your shirt," Susan answered.

"Oh-kay."

Santana looked down and caught it just as Papa Pierce said, "It's inside out, Cinnabunns."

#####

"So, I've made my selection for godparent status."

"Cool," Brittany said as she rested her chin on Santana's shoulder. "And did you know your shirt is inside out?"

"Yeah, thanks for that," Santana leaned back into her as they watched Max being chased around by Jamie post-football game.

"I was under pressure."

"Well, now I'm leaving it like this to make a statement," Santana said. "We can fool around if we want to."

"Except we can't without it being a family event."

"That's kinda gross," Santana winced.

"It is," Brittany agreed. "So godparent selections?"

"You may not like it."

"Why wouldn't I like it?"

"Because..."

"Because your selection is Rachel?"

Santana looked up at her wife, "How did you know?"

"She referred to the baby as the Cinderella to her Fairy Godmother," Brittany said. "Usually when she makes Disney references, she's the princess. I figured there was something bigger at play."

"What do you think?"

"Well..." Brittany bit her lip. "Max is..."

"Terrified of her."

"Yeah."

"I know."

"And..."

"And it's Rachel," Santana's shoulders fell. "She does...Rachel-like things."

"Like the Red Carpet thing. And the wedding thing."

"And the drugboat thing.'

"Not to mention all those years she controlled you like a foot soldier."

"Foot soldier?"

"I've been watching a lot of Ninja Turtles with Max," Brittany said in explanation.

"Ah." Santana threaded her fingers with Brittany's. "Well, my selection is no worse than yours."

"You know about that?"

Santana laughed, "Of course, I do. He's your bestie."

"You're my bestie."

"I'm your wifey."

"You're both," Brittany whispered while nipping at her earlobe.

"Sam, huh?"

"I know he's not your favorite person right now."

"No," Santana said. "He's kind of a flake."

"And Rachel's not?"

"Wow," Santana said. "We're really putting BayLo at a godparent disadvantage."

"Nah," Brittany disagreed. "They're both loyal to their friends. They'll both be extremely loyal to BayLo."

"True," Santana replied. "And there's a good chance Rachel will do something really grand and inappropriate...like setting the baby up with a five million dollar college fund. And Sam...well...maybe he'll let her practice applying lipstick to those ginormous flesh balloons on his face."

And that's how Rachel and Sam found themselves sitting in Brittany and Santana's home office with a two desk lamps shining in their eyes.

"You are the chosen ones," Brittany announced as she stood behind them in the darkened room. Those black-out curtains were pretty handy in these situations.

"You're going to let me be the godfather?" Sam asked Santana.

"I am."

Rachel glanced between Santana and Brittany, "I won?"

"These positions come with great responsibility," Santana said in a deep voice. She scratched her chin, "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

"Yes!" Sam answered.

Rachel was just downright giddy, "This is better than all six Grammys."

"Now you must take the oath," Santana said as she whipped out two different Ellen Degeneres books. "Place your left hand on Ellen and raise your right." After they both complied, she continued, "Now repeat after me."

"Okay," Sam said anxiously.

"I solemnly swear on the works of Gay Lady Ellen that I will be a role model to Baby Lopez," Santana started. She waited until the words were parroted back and then continued, "I will nurture her, encourage her, and make a lifelong commitment to being a responsible adult in her life." Rachel and Sam repeated her. "I will love her unconditionally, I will help her build sandcastles, and I will tell Santana anything that she tells me in confidence immediately."

"No," Brittany intervened. "San, you can't make them do that."

"Why not?"

"Don't repeat that one," Brittany told them.

"What about the sandcastles?" Sam asked.

"You can repeat the sandcastles."

"Can I add in something about those tiny girl beauty pageants?" Rachel asked. "I've always wanted a six year for one of those."

"Fuck no!" Santana said firmly.

"What about talent shows? Can I promise to enter her talent shows?"

"Hey, wait," Sam tapped on the desk in the room. "If Rachel is entering her in talent shows, can I take her to Star Trek conventions?"

"As if Little Miss Upper West Side can be seen at a Star Trek convention," Rachel shut down Sam's request.

Santana also shut down hers, "I said no, Rachel. No pageants. The first time I see you trying to sequin her, I'm going to revoke your godmother rights."

"Okay," Rachel relented. "Maybe I can just rent a kid for pageants."

"Can we please get back to the oath?" Brittany urged them.

"Hands back on Ellen," Santana pointed to the books.

"Why aren't we using my memoir for this?" Rachel asked.

"Cuz it sucked," Santana told her. "Now put your damn hands on Ellen and repeat after me."

"Just do it," Sam said in a strained voice.

"I will love her unconditionally. I will help her build sandcastles. I will NOT enter her in beauty pageants or take or to Star Trek conventions. And, most importantly, I promise to contact her parents at least two weeks in advance before visiting."

#####

Yet another eventful dinner had come and gone in the Pierce/Lopez house. Santana had complained for most of it. She was too uncomfortable for sitting in the dining room chairs now. That was most of the reason why she was getting to take up most of the couch. Brittany was wedged behind her, creating an incline.

Unfortunately, the two of them had found themselves reluctantly immersed in Amor en el Probador Contiguo. Actually, Santana was the only one that was reluctant. Brittany started to really enjoy it once Abuela allowed for the English subtitles.

"She's just on the other side of the partition," the blonde said to Javier onscreen. "Just tell her!"

"He can't do it now," Sam said, sprawled out on the floor. "There's all that business of the promotion."

"Yeah, but, I don't see what that has to do with anything," Jamie argued.

"Unnecessary drama," Santana complained.

"Do you think she'll figure out he's the one refilling her paper clip cubby?" the blonde asked the rest of the viewers. "She came so close to catching him slip her those extra staples."

"Last episode, he left her a stack of post-it notes with a heart drawn on the top," Jamie said. "They were pink."

"The tension when they were on that elevator," Sam blew out an exaggerated breath.

"I was in a movie like this once," Rachel spoke up. "It was direct to DVD, but it was amazing."

"Personally, I think Benito, the supply guy, is going to spill it," Brittany said. "He knows what's up."

"Or she'll think it is Benito, the supply guy," Santana rolled her eyes. "We didn't get that shot of his abs while he was changing the toner for nothing."

"Nah, she thinks it's the boss," Kurt said. "I think she has a thing for him."

"How can she not know it's Javier?" Abuela said with disgust. "Look at him."

"So in love," Kurt agreed.

"I'm glad Santana and I didn't meet at the office," Brittany told them.

"Why not, baby?" Santana looked up at her.

"Because it looks like torture."

"You two have a pretty good story," Kurt said.

"We do," Brittany agreed.

"The best," Santana did as well.

"I'm so glad I introduced you," Rachel said smiling.

"You've told that story so much that you've started to believe it," Santana told her.

Rachel looked puzzled for a second, "Wait. I didn't introduce you? I could have sworn."

"You two have a wonderful story." Abuela, who had secured the only spot left on the couch, patted Santana's socked foot. "I'll admit, I was not fully convinced when I first heard it. And I didn't love the idea of my granddaughter moving away. But after I met Brittany, I knew that you had found the right person for you."

"Of course, I did," Santana replied.

"Thank you," Brittany said sincerely. She knew how far Alma Lopez had come since Santana came out.

"So much love with you two," Abuela continued. "I see it every time you're together. I feel it in this house. It's on Max's face and it will be the same with the next one. She will be so lucky to have the two of you as her parents. Such a beautiful family you've built."

Santana reached up to take Abuela's hand, "Thank you for saying that."

"It's true," the older woman said. "I'm lucky you allowed me to right my mistake."

"We're both so happy that you're a part of this," Brittany told her.

"To be here for another great-grandchild, I wouldn't have missed it!" Abuela clapped her hands. "That's all an old lady can ask for."

#####

"Nothing has clicked yet," Santana told her wife as she sat on the edge of the tub, arms resting on her belly. "Do you think that's strange? We had Max named three months into your pregnancy."

Brittany had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows as she reached into the tub to pour water over Max's head. "We may have had Max named, but we were fighting about the hyphen until the day he was born."

"Oh yeah," Santana remembered. "The great hyphen battle."

"Which you lost."

"Only because you made a very compelling argument."

"It's true," the blonde said as she scrubbed behind Max's ears. "Sometimes they only give you ten little letter boxes."

Santana reached up and pulled down the mesh net with all the bath toys and set them in the water. "We need something that makes a statement."

"Lola."

"Not that kind of statement."

"I know that Lola was a showgirl," Brittany was trying to make a case for her chosen name. "But that doesn't mean this Lola will be."

"No," Santana said simply. She wiped some water off her face from where Max had just splashed out when his bath time toys attacked the faucet. "Max," she said to her son, "the water stays in the tub."

Brittany pouted.

"Don't," Santana pointed the 'index finger of wrath.' "No pouting."

"But I love it."

"It's too close to Lolita."

"Oh," Brittany smiled. "I love that, too."

"Absolutely not!"

"It meets all the criteria," Brittany told her. "Not too trendy. It's not a food, element, substance, or so common that twenty other kids will have the same name. It's not the name of any current pop star, which I resent, but whatever. And it lends itself to a cute nickname."

"Which is?"

"LoLo!"

"You know what they'll call her?" Santana said as she glanced over to Max driving his boat in circles. "LoLo Loser."

"Oh, they will not," Brittany argued. "And so what if they do. You told me you got through school being called Satan and look at you now."

"I'm pretty sure some people still call me that."

"Yeah," Brittany said. "Last time I was at the dog park, I heard somebody say, 'There goes Satan's mistress.'"

"It was that bit-...billygoat with that fu-rry cocker spaniel, wasn't it?"

"That was the billygoat in question."

The talk of billygoats piqued Max's attention. "Can we see the billgoats?" he asked.

"Not until you get an allowance to feed them," Brittany told him.

"I think it needs to be something...classic."

"Old?"

"No, no," Santana shook her head. "Classic. Timeless."

"Martha Stewart?"

"No."

"Eleanor Roosevelt?"

"No."

"Emily. Natalie. Jessica. Valerie. Katie. Julie. Denise. Margaret. Claire. Stacy. Jennifer?"

"None of those sound right," Santana dismissed them.

"Maria Teresa Linda Pilar?"

"Ha ha," Santana said. "No."

"Maybe we just won't know until we see her," Brittany stated.

"Maybe," Santana said softly. She looked at their son, who had gathered up some bubbles to make an island. "Our kid sure does love bath time."

"I think it's the whole nudity thing."

"You would know," Santana teased. She motioned for Brittany to help her to her feet before saying, "Okay, Max. Gotta get you out before you get pruney."

Brittany handed Santana the hooded dinosaur towel and then lifted him out. Santana dried him off the best she could and then Brittany pajamaed him. Max's Mommy dragged his step stool over to the sink while Momma put his toothpaste on his toothbrush.

"Make sure you get all of them," Santana reminded him.

"All my toofies?"

"Even the ones that are hiding in the back," Brittany said as she took the opportunity to run a comb through his hair.

They both watched him brush from one side to another and then simultaneously said, "Spit."

When he was all done, he handed the toothbrush back over to his Momma and jumped down from the stool.

"Smile," Brittany told him. After he did, she offered her hand for a high five, "Those toofies are looking good, buddy."

"I lookin' good!"

"Yes, you are," Santana agreed as she fixed the collar of his night shirt. "Go see everyone before you go to bed."

Max groaned at the idea of bed time. Unfortunately for him, there wasn't much of a choice.

Brittany wasn't surprised when the entirety of the group was still lounging around their living room watching Amor en el Probador Contiguo.

"Hey folks."

Nine heads wordlessly turned her way.

"Max is going to bed," Brittany set the boy on the ground. "Go give everybody kisses."

He did exactly as he was told. Well, he gave eight kisses. He ran by Rachel.

When he completed the circle, his Mommy said, "You forgot somebody very important."

Max was scared that she meant Rachel for a second, but soon realized she meant Santana.

"G'night Momma," He kissed his hand and very lightly tapped on Santana's belly, "G'night BayWo."

Santana waited until every single person in the room and had sufficiently aww'd over the cuteness of her boy before she announced, "I trained him to do that."

"Another Lopez charmer," Abuela announced.

"Just what we need," Brittany laughed.

"Hey, it worked on you," Santana said with a wink.

"You're in good company, Brittany," Maribel said as she patted her husband's knee.

"She definitely gets all that charm from her Papi," Roberto commented to Brittany.

"So I have you to blame," she kidded.

"To thank," Santana corrected.

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Okay, okay," Brittany turned her back on the rest of the family and said in hushed tones to Santana, "I'll put him to bed. You meet me in our bed."

"Britt," Santana discreetly pointed to the room full of guests, "everybody's still here."

"I don't care anymore," the blonde answered. "Fifteen minutes tops."

Eleven minutes later, Brittany ran into their bedroom at full speed. She was pulling off her shirt in the process, "I think Rachel has them all playing Broadway Charades or something." Brittany yanked off a shoe and threw it behind her. "That should give us plenty of time." She unhooked her jeans and let them drop before pulling off the other shoe. "She'll be explaining the rules for at least half an hour."

"Uh...Britt," Santana said from inside their bathroom.

"I locked the door," Brittany told her while hopping around on one foot. "They can knock all damn night. Max is asleep."

"...I don't think we'll be getting around to that," Santana said as she slowly opened the door.

Brittany stopped on a dime when she saw the look on her wife's face. "San?"

"It's time, Britt Britt."