A/N: Hiiiii everyone! Thanks for the reviews, favorites and follows! I really appreciate it! :)

More antics in this chapter before we get to the sexy times, but remember- Santana's a dude during, so if that's not your thing, you can skip over it. I'm sure you'll be able to tell when it's coming- pun intended. ;) Har har har.

Anyways. Hope you guys like the second part to this little story!

Enjoy~

"So let me get this straight," Puck says with a smirk, and I struggle not to roll my eyes, "you're asking me for advice?" He laughs, and I feel myself burning with embarrassment. "Me?"

"Don't make me regret this," I groan, pressing some fingers to my temple to stave off the headache I'm sure is on its way. It's Friday, and I'd opted to spend the entire day as my male form in order to be completely prepared for tonight. And since time limits are a thing of the past thanks to the Darrath Device, I'd spent the day wandering around as a guy. However, after witnessing a couple making out in the park I'd been taking a stroll through, I'd suddenly felt very ill-prepared for the events that were about to transpire later tonight after Brittany's show. So, in my panic, I'd turned to the only guy I knew that was almost as good at bedding ladies as I was.

"I have to admit, you've come to the right place," Puck nods as he walks beside me, and this time I can't stop my eye roll if I try. "I'm digging the new look, by the way." He tilts his head and gestures to my manly body, and I punch him in the shoulder. Hard.

"Sorry, I belong to Brittany," I shoot at him. "And since when are you gay?"

"Ow," he whines, rubbing at his shoulder and ignoring my jab. "Watch it. You're not a weak little girl at the moment."

I punch him again for good measure, and he steps to the side, out of arm's reach, holding up his hands in protest. "Okay, jeez, I'll cool it with the jokes. Now do you want my help or not?"

"I don't know, I think your help is going to cost more than I'm willing to pay," I snap gruffly, crossing my strong arms over my chest. "Besides, I might've been delusional thinking you could help me in the first place, considering you're you."

"I got you in bed, didn't I?"

"Way to remind me. I'd finally blocked the traumatic horror from my memory."

He grins. "You're just mad because you can't make fun of my hair anymore."

"No, I definitely still can." I eye his hair, which doesn't really look bad now that he'd grown it out. "Is that a toupee?" I tease, reaching up to touch his short comb-over, forgetting for a moment that I'm a dude and it looks really, really gay of me.

Puck notices the same thing, only sooner, and ducks his head away from my hand. "Okay, rule number one if you're going to be a guy-"

"I'm not going to be a guy. I'm just going to get Brittany pregnant and hopefully never have to re-visit this form again."

"But what if she digs your cock?"

"Puck, that's gross," I growl, threateningly clenching my fist again. "Brittany loves me just the way I am. This is purely so we can have a child by both of us."

"Okay, okay," he relents with a smirk. "So. When you get in there-"

"This was a bad idea," I mutter.

"-Nibble on her ear."

I glare at him. "What?"

"Nibble on her ear a little- it drives girls crazy."

"No, it doesn't," I snap. I can't believe what an idiot he is. "In fact, Brittany hates that."

"See, that's my point," Puck says with a smile.

"That you're fucking stupid and I should've never asked you for advice in the first place?"

"No," he says seriously, placing his hand on my shoulder. "That you already know what Brittany likes. You know her. So just do what's gonna feel good for her."

"But I'm not good with-" I lower my voice. "My stamina." I feel my cheeks burning and my stomach sinks, and I just know that I've made a mistake in telling Puck about my problems. That there's no way I'm going to be able to live it down.

His smirk only confirms my fears, but thankfully, he spares me some more humiliation. Knowing him, he's probably saving it to bring up later at the worst possible time. "So think of something really, really unsexy. Think of, like, dead kittens or something. That'll help."

"I'm trying to build stamina, not burst into tears, Puck," I growl, still feeling foolish.

"Well then find your own buzzkill, dude," he says. "I can't exactly help you with that." He smiles genuinely, and I smile in return as he adds, "But I can say that nobody loves Brittany more than you do, and for some reason, that bombshell is crazy about you, too. So I know whatever you do, it'll be perfect to her."

"Aw, Puck, that's so sweet. Maybe you are turning gay."

"You wish."

"If it means you'll stop being a pig and making disgusting remarks about me and Brittany? Definitely."

A loud beep goes off, and Puck checks his phone quickly, then gives me a regretful smile. "Gotta go, dude. Duty calls and all."

I smile proudly as we shake hands. That's not gay, right? "Of course. Knock 'em dead."

He grins. "You, too. I expect good news. And, you know, if you're looking for baby names, I think Noah is-"

"Good-bye, Puckerman."

"Right. See ya."

I watch him go and slowly release a breath.

Dead kittens. Got it.

Dead kittens aren't working. Not at all.

I'm currently sitting in a restaurant with Quinn, who'd called me up randomly demanding lunch with me while she was in town for some meeting with some publication editor. Or something. How could I refuse? She's very persuasive.

And once I'd informed her of my change, she'd demanded even harder that I have lunch with her.

So here I am.

Sporting a very unattractive boner.

Look, I can't help it, okay? I mean, Quinn is super attractive, but I have no desire to go digging in her lady garden. Unfortunately, my little friend has other ideas, and I'm just thankful I'm sitting down and able to cover the hard evidence (oh, you like that?) with a napkin. Hopefully, my boner for Quinn will go away- again, never thought I'd ever say that- before we part. I just have to think of something unsexy.

Dead kittens. Right.

"I have to admit, Santana, you make a very attractive man," Quinn teases, taking a sip of her tea, her pinky out daintily. I scowl at her.

"I make a very attractive woman, too," I grump, taking a bite out of my medium-rare steak. What? It's what a man eats, okay? (Okay, I admit, I'd tried to order a salad, but after a weird look from the waiter, I'd changed it to a steak. Whatever.)

"True, but I find it rather amusing that you've been practicing in the form. It's cute." Her smile is genuine and it makes her hazel eyes sparkle. But I'm not having any of that.

"We always practiced in new forms before a mission," I defend, glaring down at my steak. It's still bleeding. I wish I'd ordered that salad.

"A mission?" she teases. "That's-"

"Cute, I know, I know," I mumble.

"I was going to say lame, but, well," she says with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, and I sigh.

"Can we talk about something else? How's your- whatever you do, coming along?"

Glaring, Quinn takes another sip of her tea. "Five Year Memorial March, and it's coming along great, actually."

"Has it been five years already?"

"Not exactly, but it takes quite a few months of preparations for something this huge." She turns to look wistfully out the window near our table, and I feel bad for a moment. Doing these sorts of things can't be easy for her. "It's kind of cool, actually," she says, her attention still focused outside. "I get to work with Mercedes on this one, since our projects kind of overlap."

I nod in agreement. "I saw your book at the bookstore the other day."

"Oh yeah?" She lifts a sardonic eyebrow. "Did you read it?"

"Fuck no. Why would I want to read that garbage?"

She rolls her eyes. "You're such a bitch."

I shrug. "Yep. Brittany read it, though."

"Always the more humane one of the two of you," Quinn laughs. "Did she like it?"

"Nah. She threw that shit away."

"She did not!"

I smirk at her over my glass of iced tea. We continue to chat for a while, and then when the bill comes, Quinn hands it to me. I look at it stupidly. "What is this?"

"The bill," she smirks. "A gentleman always pays."

"Funny, Q, but I don't see any gentlemen around here." I pay anyway, because, please- it's not like I'm not filthy rich. I go to stand up and hug her, but I feel my stomach sink as I realize-

Fuck.

Dead kittens, Santana. Dead. Fucking. Kittens.

"Come here," Quinn says, holding open her arms.

I swallow, feeling a cold sweat start to form on the back of my neck. "Uh, Q, can't we just, um, shake hands?" I hold my hand out for her to take.

"Shake hands?" she demands in disbelief. She grabs my hand and pulls me closer, and then she's sliding her arms around me and holding me and-

"That had better be your cell phone, Santana."

Busted. Fuck my life.

"Uh-"

She pulls away quickly, looking exasperated. "You have got to be kidding me!"

"Look, I can't fucking help it, okay!" I whine. She shakes her head, rolling her eyes, and turns on her heel, storming out of the restaurant as I call after her. "Q!"

She doesn't stop. I sigh. A flash goes off in my face, and that's when I notice a pap guy standing a few feet away.

"What's your name?" he demands, readying his notepad, and I clench my fists.

"Oh, what the fuck?" I growl, advancing on him. He wisely decides to book it out of the restaurant and I rub at my temple. My headache has officially arrived.

I guess it can't really get much worse.

It's not even an hour later when the gossip website, WetPaint, has pictures of Quinn and me- as a dude- plastered all over their front page. Headlines like Who is Quinn's New Beau?, Meet Fabray's New Hottie, and Quinn and Mystery Man Have a Lover's Quarrel! Click here for details! take up the entire page. Links to article after article speculating about our supposed steamy, secret romance and the forbidden love and who I actually am cover the margin.

Quinn's PR rep calls me screaming, and it only adds to my headache.

Today is definitely not going as planned.

Brittany's show opens at 7pm and I don't plan on going as a man- the last thing I need is more tabloids accusing me of being a two-timer, or accusing Brittany of cheating on the female me with the male me- oh wow, do I hear myself?

I slip into a long, hot shower and then begin the longer, hotter process of getting ready. I pick out a tasteful, elegant but sexy (after all, I do plan on getting laid after the show) red dress, do my hair and make-up, and call my limo driver. I don't ordinarily take a limo to places, but it's for my wife's show, and I plan on making a grand entrance.

On the way I stop and pick up a huge bouquet of assorted flowers from my favorite florist shop. Brittany loves all kinds of flowers, and despite my fame, it's more personal if I pick them out for her myself. I select the most colorful ones, imagining the huge smile she's going to give me once I present them to her, and then, feeling elated and giddy at pleasing my wife, I'm on my way.

When I arrive, obviously there's a million reporters taking pictures. I answer all their comments about how supportive I am of Brittany's career with, "I'm Team Britt all the way," and earn a bunch of awws from the crowd. I smile and wave and sign a few autographs outside the huge theatre, and then I make my way inside to my reserved, front row seats.

The show is flawless. Brittany always mesmorizes me with her shifting, but combined with the changing, colored lights on stage and the live, instrumental music, it's absolutely breathtaking. She always tells a story, and her team of supportive dancers blend with her movements seamlessly. Brittany always stands out to me, though. Maybe I'm biased, but I can never really take my eyes off of her transforming long enough to notice anyone else around her, unless they are directly in my line of sight, or standing next to Brittany.

As she changes from animal to animal, making the audience laugh with her silly antics, and cry from the effects and the way she moves, I can't help but feel my heart pounding with utter adoration and pride. So much pride. I'm overjoyed with how happy I am for her for living out her dreams, for achieving her goals, and I don't care who knows. I want to give Brittany everything that she wants.

As the show draws to a close and the performers take a bow to a standing ovation, Brittany's eyes automatically find mine- she always finds me- and then blows me a kiss. I smile at her and catch it (yes, I know we are dorks) and then blow her one in return. She catches it and places it over heart, and her brilliant smile has me swooning. She's so, so beautiful. And I'm so, so in love.

I stand there basking in the glow of Brittany's performance as the audience filters out, chatting about how breathtaking the show was and how they plan on seeing it again. I grin and make my way backstage. As I slide behind the curtain, I'm immediately crushed in a hug, and Brittany's kissing me.

"I'm so glad you could make it," Brittany says, a little breathless, when she pulls back. Her eyes are shining even in the semidarkness backstage, and I keep her pressed close as I kiss her again.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," I admit. I lift up the flowers, and, as I expected, her smile could power the sun as she accepts them.

"Thank you," she says, shaking her head a little in disbelief.

"Don't act so surprised," I tease, cupping her cheek and stroking my thumb over it. "I definitely bring you flowers every time."

"I know, but," she drops her eyes, smiling wistfully, and I notice a blush creeping onto her cheeks, even in the dark, "sometimes I just can't believe how lucky I am that I have you."

My heart melts- because come on, how could it not?- and I kiss her cheek. "Funny," I breathe against her skin, "because I was going to say the same thing about you."

Our eyes meet, and I've noticed hers have darkened considerably, and I swallow. She trails her fingertips down the side of my neck, studying my face carefully, and I shiver at her touch. My nerves are suddenly back full force as I realize that this is it.

"I'm about done here," she murmurs, never halting the movement of her fingers on my skin.

"Yeah?" I say, my voice raspy, and I mentally kick myself. I'm so smooth. She nods, and I grab her hand from where it's resting against my neck and bring it to my lips, kissing each of her fingers slowly. "Then why don't we go home?"

She looks at me, her gaze intense, and I know that the gravity of the situation is not lost on her. Slowly, a smile overtakes her face, and she nods again.

"I'll drive us."

I nod, too, but my thoughts are elsewhere. And again I inwardly pray I don't fuck this up.

I take a deep breath, gather my courage again, and focus on the change. When I'm standing in the bathroom in my male form, staring at myself in the mirror, I swallow and reassure myself. It's going to be fine.

When I come into the bedroom, Brittany's standing by the vanity, and she looks up when she sees me enter. Her eyes widen in surprise before she bites her lip and turns. Her blue eyes scan my body, and I feel naked under her gaze. Well, okay, I am basically naked except for my boxers. But still. I feel even more naked.

"San," Brittany murmurs, moving closer, her eyes dark with what I hope is desire, even though it feels weird on all levels. "You did this for me?"

I swallow, feeling very self-conscious of the lower register of my voice as I say, "Yeah." I clear my throat. "I want to give you everything you want, Brittany."

Her eyes meet mine, and the familiar, predatory look in them, combined with the love I see shining in their depths, make my heart pound.

I'd spent a week practicing in my new form, and I'd been dicking around- pun intended- as a dude all day- and yet, standing in Brittany's presence, I feel like it's my first time being in the body. I feel awkward. She's so familiar, being with her is so easy and just works- but now I'm in a different form, and it just feels- well, different.

Nothing could've prepared me for how it feels when Brittany finally touches me, or how I respond so readily. Her hands smooth over my chest and my breath hitches as she leans up on her toes to kiss me. Her lips always feel heavenly, but the sensation is completely new in my new form. Her lips are familiar, and I can't help but slide my arms around her and pull her in close, deepening the kiss. Her fingers trace over my shoulders and I shiver. My nerves feel like they are on fire as she continues to barely graze her fingertips over my skin.

She presses kisses to my jaw- which is sharper, more rugged. She rubs her hands over my chest, which is flatter. It still feels good, but it's different. She plays with my short, dark hair, running her fingers over my scalp and making a moan rumble up from my throat. Her hands move to my arms, running over my defined biceps, which are tense from her touch, and she smiles.

"You're so warm," she breathes, before she kisses me again, and I sigh into her mouth, relieved that this isn't as weird for her as it is for me. I mean, she'd had sex with me as a human all those years ago, which wasn't her normal form. At least I'm still the same species. I'm still, technically, me.

It's still a little weird though.

I push the feelings aside, reminding myself that I'm doing this for Brittany, and as long as she's okay with it, I'm okay with it. I guess.

"Is that bad?" I ask as she pulls back to watch her hands trace over my stomach. It twitches at her touch, and I feel myself getting turned on. I try not to panic- after all, that's kind of the point, right?

She giggles, grinning slyly, and shakes her head, her loose blonde hair shimmering. I swallow. She's so beautiful. I try and focus on something other than the now obvious bulge growing in my boxers.

"It's weird being taller than you," I admit. Brittany just hums and kisses my neck, and I feel my dick- ugh, I have a dick- twitch with desire. I bite my lip as her warm, wet tongue darts out and traces down my neck, and my arms tighten around her. "God, Britt," I groan, and the sound of my own voice is a little foreign to me. It rumbles. It's deeper. Brittany doesn't seem to have a problem with it, but-

"Is this weird for you?" I blurt. "Because we don't have to, uh, you know, we could just use a-"

She silences me with a kiss, and when she pulls back, she studies my face again. "It's different," she says. "You're warmer and taller. But I feel you. And I love you- and want you- no matter what form you're in."

"That's kind of gross, Britt," I chuckle nervously. "I mean, what if I was a dog or-"

She cuts me off with another kiss, but this time it's deeper, more passionate.

"Hush now, San," she breathes when she pulls back, tracing her thumb over my bottom lip, "and make love to me. Make love to your wife."

Her words make my stomach tighten and my heart pound, and as our eyes meet, I shiver at the way hers are burning into me. I swallow at her forwardness, but I can't deny that it's what I want the most. Carefully, I wrap my thicker, stronger arms around Brittany's lithe frame and pull her to my chest, enjoying the way her soft breasts press against my firm muscle. They're slightly familiar sensations, but different. Either way, they still stoke my fire higher as Brittany's mouth opens sensually against mine, her smooth, velvet tongue entering my mouth.

It doesn't take long until my arousal is almost unbearable. I can feel myself pressed against Brittany's thigh and I try not to feel ashamed or weirded out. I try to relax. Brittany's not weirded out. You're doing this for her.

When Brittany touches me, I gasp at the sensation. Ho-ly fuck. I didn't expect it to feel so good. No wonder all the guys I'd been with couldn't last more than a minute-

Okay, really, Santana? Now is not the time for that. Focus.

Brittany tugs my boxers off and then guides me to the bed, onto my back. I use the moment to try and regain my sense, because my thoughts have gone fuzzy and I can't concentrate on anything except the throbbing need between my legs. It doesn't help when Brittany gives me a show, slowly stripping her clothes one by one- Jesus fuck, I didn't realize she was wearing so many clothes- and dropping them to the floor, her eyes never leaving mine.

Once she's naked (and I'm aching at the sight) she pushes me to lie flat, climbing on top of me and straddling my hips. I queue up my mental image of dead kittens as she rubs her wet center against my hardness, trying to prepare myself to enter her for the first time.

I'm a little surprised that she's taking control so easily, and I kind of wonder if she'd been thinking about being with a man before. The thought makes me self-conscious- had I not been satisfying Brittany in the bedroom? Did she-

"I thought you'd eventually want to use a strap-on," Brittany breathes in my ear, sending shocks pulsing through my body and calming my fears effortlessly at the same time. She always knows what to say. "So I did some research-"

"At the library?" I chuckle, trying to distract myself. It would be totally unsexy if I came too soon. And it would defeat the purpose. No way would I get Brittany pregnant from shooting on my own chest. Ugh.

She giggles, sounding completely sexy and sending another hard throb of desire to my groin, and adds, "No, I don't think the kind of research I did would be considered appropriate for a human library, San."

She rolls her hips against me and I struggle to breathe. I can't believe how wet she is. I try and take deep, calming breaths as her hips work, and she moans in my ear. Her nipples are hard where they're pressed to my chest, and I feel pressure building in my stomach. I rub my hands up and down Brittany's bare back, loving the smoothness of her skin, and after what feels like a small eternity, Brittany reaches down to guide me to her entrance.

I hold my breath as she works her hips, taking each inch of me in small intervals. I watch her face for discomfort, but she doesn't show any as she sinks down further and further. The thought of her being in pain curbs some of my arousal, which is good, because she's so tight and warm and wet, if I wasn't worried about her I'd probably be done for.

When her hips finally touch mine, signifying that I'm completely inside her, I release the breath I've been holding. She rocks against me and I groan, my hands immediately moving to hold her hips tightly. She leans down to kiss me, and I feel her squeezing experimentally around me, making my heart pound and my stomach pressure return.

"Fuck," I wheeze, sounding completely unsexy. Ugh.

"You feel so good, San," she tells me as she kisses me again. She lifts her hips slightly and then drops them, and I groan again at the slick feeling.

I try to respond, but I can't. I'm in heaven. The way Brittany rolls her hips on top of me, and the way I can feel every tense of her muscles, every movement of her body, is enough to leave me panting, struggling to hold back from driving my hips up and taking her. I want this moment to be special for her, but as she sits up slightly and presses her hands to my chest, I feel that control slipping. She looks glorious perched on top of me, and I can't even process how amazing it is to actually be able to feel inside her.

She rides me for a bit, and I feel my orgasm building quickly as I watch her. She's so tight. She's so wet. I can't-

"F-fuck, Britt, stop, or this is going to end a lot sooner than we planned-"

She grinds her hips one more time against me and I groan. I sit up suddenly, stilling her and wrapping my arms around her waist. I kiss her deeply and then twist us, putting her on her back. Her hands grip my shoulders and her eyes blaze with love and desire as I drive into her again, taking her. She wraps legs around me and moans, craning her neck to kiss me, and as I rut into her, I angle my hips, trying to go deeper.

She moans my name, digging her nails into my shoulders, and I can feel her getting close. It surprises me, and makes my job harder, because she's tightening around me and suddenly I'm close, myself. I pull back, panting, staring into her questioning eyes, and then I turn her onto her side.

I lay down behind her and, okay, this position is kind of hard to work, but whatever. I don't want Brittany to come looking at a stranger, even if it is me. If I'm behind her, she won't see me, only feel me, and I want her to know it's me. So as I slide into her again- ugh, fuck- and wrap my arm around her stomach to hold her close, I kiss just below her ear and breathe, "I love you, Britt."

"San…" she breathes, and I can feel her shuddering against me, her hips pressing back into me as I shift to move deeper inside her. She twists, towards the bed, so that she's half on her stomach, and lifts her knee, giving me better access, and I half lie on top of her, kissing her shoulder. It's intimate, the way we are spooning, and I can feel her heartbeat through her back, syncing with mine in my chest. I reach up to her hand, which is pressed into the bed, and lay mine on top of hers, locking our fingers together.

The angle of Brittany's hips lets me get deep and hit all her spots, and I smile as I realize I can feel all her spots, can feel her responding to them, and even though being a guy is completely weird and not really something I'd ever want to maybe do again, it's definitely a nice one-time experience.

Brittany clenches around me tightly and I suck in a shaky breath. "I've gotta- ugh, stop, or I'm gonna come, Britt," I rasp, pulling out and squeezing the base of my dick- yep- harshly to try and slow down my quickly approaching orgasm.

Dead kittens. Dead kittens.

Brittany twists to kiss me hotly, and when she pulls back, she chuckles against my jaw as she murmurs, "That's entirely the point, isn't it?"

I feel myself twitch in my hand with desire, and watch as Brittany pushes her hips back, forcing me inside her, tight, wet heat sinking onto me and around me and-

"Fuck," I whimper shakily, my breathing hoarse as I grip Brittany's hips like a lifeline. She clenches again, rocks her hips and kisses me with love so intense it practically sears me, and combined with the pressure building in my stomach and in my chest, my nerves feel like they are burning with pleasure. I struggle to hold on just a few more moments, because I can feel Brittany's thrusts growing erratic, I can feel her strangling me inside, and then I feel her entire body tighten against me.

I keep thrusting, almost involuntarily, as Brittany comes hard, and the rhythmic clenching of her walls around me is enough to send me over the edge. My orgasm hits me fast and hard, and I feel the pressure that had been building inside of me finally release. It's a weird sensation but it also feels incredibly good, and I groan into Brittany's shoulder as the waves of pleasure roll through me.

Brittany reaches behind her, cupping my cheek, and I kiss her palm tiredly as my breaths begin to slow. Brittany's still shuddering, and I squeeze her tightly against me as she gasps, "I love you, Santana."

I swallow, feeling my throat tighten with emotion, and I close my eyes and focus, shifting back to my normal form. Back to myself. Because I want to cuddle Brittany as her wife. I want to cuddle Brittany as me.

Brittany sighs as she leans back into my touch and my breasts press to her back. She reaches up to stroke fingers through my long hair, and I can see her smile as I hold her close, spooning her.

"I love you, too," I tell her, with my own voice, and Brittany chuckles, hugging my arms around her and resting her head back against my shoulder.

A wave of exhaustion overtakes me and I feel my eyelids droop. I snuggle down against Brittany, enjoying being the big spoon for a change, and hope that my valiant efforts did not go in vain.

Because dead kittens- give me a fucking break.

It's two weeks later and I'm sitting nervously outside the Master Bathroom- that sounds wanky- wringing my hands and waiting. Impatiently.

I'd had to explain to Brittany about how to take a pregnancy test. She couldn't really understand the point of peeing on the stick, but eventually she just accepted that it was some kind of human magic, and she went into the bathroom to do her thing.

I'd been waiting for five minutes, and I was keeping my fingers crossed that this worked. I didn't want to have to become a man again. I mean, it was real, it was fun, but it wasn't really fun, and I was just fine with being a woman, and so was Brittany. In fact, I'd made love to Brittany the morning following the event- as myself. And then again after breakfast. And then again before, during, and after lunch. Brittany spent the time reassuring me that she definitely wasn't missing out on anything, and that I more than satisfied her in every possible way.

As I said, she always knows what to say.

And if not, well. That's what strap-ons are for, right?

The sound of the door opening draws me back to the present and I look up hopefully as Brittany steps out of the bathroom, holding the pregnancy test. Her eyes meet mine, and I can see she's got the beginning of tears in her blue ones. My heart leaps.

"This small wand gave me a plus sign," Brittany says, and I feel my chest tightening with emotion.

"Britt, that's-" I start as I climb to my feet. She grins.

"I'm pregnant."

Awww. :')

These fucking cuties! I can't with Brittana anymore you guys. ;O; THEY ARE SO PRECIOUS.

I hope you all enjoyed this adventure back into the NSG verse. I may write another little NSG story a few months down the line, but I'm not sure yet. If I do, it will be later because IT'S FINALLY TIME FOR PIRATE!BRITTANA!

Stay tuned later this weekend for that!

Also, next week, some of our beautiful and talented authors in the fandom- plus me- are going to be delivering unto you some Halloween-themed Brittana stories! You're welcome! So stay tuned for that, too! :D

Well, review if you feel like it, but if not, then I'll see you on the next adventure!

Thanks, as always, for reading!

See you soon, pals! :D