Christmas day is a really big day for my family. Huge. I can remember the first time I brought you home with me for the holiday, the way your dark eyes scanned the room, you looked so flighty, timid. You held on to my hand for dear life as the boisterous activities surrounded us, everyone hugging and squealing.

You were so cute that day, baby.

And I was so proud to have you on my arm, to show you off.

Christmas morning has always been an event for the Pierce clan, and one of my favorite parts of any holiday tradition. We have a big breakfast in the morning before we all open gifts and sing carols and watch those cheesy old holiday specials. My dad's brothers and sister and my cousins all crowd in and you can feel the house bursting with love.

It's why I'm so, so excited that this year is a Pierce year.

I love seeing the traditions your family has and being welcomed into them with open arms, truly feeling like a Lopez. But, baby, I'm so glad that I'm home this year, and I think you are too.

I'm excited that I get to spend this year, this year so full of changes and good news, with my family, with my mom, in the home that I grew up in. In the bedroom that I grew up in, looking out into the backyard where I used to run and dance around. Seeing all these things with new eyes as I prepare to become a mother.

As we prepare to become mothers together.

You've been pampering me for five months now and I truly love it even if I do get frustrated that you won't let me do anything. So on this Christmas morning, the first in as long as I can remember, I'm sitting at the kitchen table sipping some tea, not helping with breakfast. My mom has even let it slide, choosing instead to spoil her pregnant daughter, going along with your plan of shoving cookies in my mouth and hot chocolate down my throat.

And, honey, I love it.

But, really, I love watching you cook; you're standing next to my mother flipping pancakes on the electric griddle plugged in on the counter like a pro while she turns bacon and scrambles eggs with ease on the stove.

You look so sexy, baby. Your hair all messy from sleep and your candy cane pajama set (matching my reindeer), your brow furrowed in concentration as you flip trying so hard not to mess up any pancakes while you shoot my sister a sarcastic remark every once in a while over your shoulder, just to keep her on her toes.

Watching you cook in the middle of the storm of Pierce Holiday Fun like you've been part of it since the beginning makes me swoon, and my hand absentmindedly finds my belly, resting on the small swell that has finally started to show more.

I don't know if I've ever loved you more than I do right in this instant.

My mom cracks a lame joke and a bark of laughter leaves your lips, lighting up my insides and making my belly flutter. Even the baby loves your laugh as much as I do.

You shoot me a look over your shoulder to make sure that I'm still resting at the table. I roll my eyes at you, before I send you a soft smile and pat my belly. I can see your face soften from here and your eyes look at me that new way that they have been since we found out, and you smile back. It's soft but deep, your dimples showing.

I love that smile, baby.

The fluttering in my belly matching the fluttering of my heart.

"Wow, Santana, who knew knocking up my sister would actually tame the beast inside you?"

You smirk and shoot me a wink before spinning around to face Ashleigh, "I'd be careful if I were you, Ash…. That little boy toy you brought home this year doesn't seem to think so."

You look at me, your eyes sparkling with mirth.

"You wouldn't."

"She would, Ash. Trust me, she would. Just because she lets me ride her doesn't mean she's tame and likes the saddle."

"Brittany Susan!" My mother turns around from the stove, a blush creeping up her face. I can't contain my laughter as I look from her horrified face to yours. Your jaw is actually on the floor and I can see you squirming. "Just because you are married and pregnant does not mean I will tolerate that kind of talk! On Christmas of all days!" she's trying to keep her voice in that scolding tone that I've heard a million times, but she's never been able to stay mad at me for long, especially when I giggle.

"Oh come on, Mom. Like we're not used to it… I could write a book on Britt's sex life." Ash's tone is teasing, but you're still squirming.

I stand up before anyone can add to the conversation and shoot Ash a warning glare before sliding up to you and closing your mouth. "Your pancakes, S… don't burn them." You shake yourself out of it and take the pancakes out of the pan, pouring new ones in. My mind flashes back to the other night, our last at home, "Maybe I should show them the hickeys you gave me the other night to prove it." The whisper is only loud enough for you to hear, as I lay my head on your shoulder and press my bump up against your back. I see your smirk and warm at the thought of our last night at home, the wild, rough, passionate, impossibly loud sex we had all night before our flight here.

My mom breaks us out of our dirty thoughts and asks you a question, and you pull your brain up from the gutter and answer her with no time lost.

I kiss your cheek and stand next to you watching you flip the pancakes, your brow furrowed ever so slightly and your mouth set in a firm line, heavy in focus.

It reminds me of the morning after our first time, when you woke up with a lazy smile on your face and kissed me until I couldn't breathe, before sliding your legs between mine, flipping me over and taking me again. It was soft and slow, hushed, intimate. When we finished we stayed like that, kissing and smiling, and feeling our hearts in sync against one another. It could have been minutes or hours, I don't know and I didn't care. I was wrapped up in you, you, you, soft, beautiful, passionate you and I didn't have a care in the world.

You heard my stomach growl and you giggled before pecking my lips and hopping out of bed declaring that you were going to make me breakfast. Watching you stretch your naked body just out of my reach was torture after being able to touch it all night. You pulled an old t shirt out of a drawer and pulled it ever so slowly over your body, allowing me the time to watch the muscles play against your back. When you reached up and pulled your long, dark hair out of the collar I almost lost it.

Santana, you're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

You smirked at me over your shoulder, your dimple on full display, before you tossed me another shirt and some shorts. And then you left the bedroom before I had a chance to distract you again. When I finally dragged myself out of bed, out of sheets that smelled like you, and pulled on the shirt that smelled like you, I found you in the kitchen getting ready to pour pancakes into a pan. I couldn't help myself, coming up behind you and resting my hands on your waist, my head on your shoulders, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, you, and me. Your neck, oh so kissable, getting some of my attention before you giggled, "Britt… pancakes are serious business."

"So is kissing you."

I heard you gasp before you turned your head and snuck a quick kiss, laughing at me when I tried to follow your retreating lips. "We have all day, baby."

Not ready to give in, I nuzzled your neck some more, kissing my way up to your ear and nipping the lobe lightly, before releasing you and sitting on the counter next to where you had set the batter. When you looked at me, your eyes were dark, dark, dark. Baby, I'm so glad we waited to have sex, but incandescent that we had finally decided the wait was long enough. Even after all night tangled up with you, I was ready for more. I needed more.

Watching you cook for me and laugh at my jokes, thinking about how you looked the night before, feeling you against me, all of it together shifted something in my soul.

My mother breaks me out of my reverie, asking us to go change before everyone else starts arriving. She's sweet, because she knows that you'll be beyond embarrassed if everyone sees you in a Christmas themed pajama set, even though we all know that you're the cutest.

So cute that I haven't even had to drag you under my mom's mistletoe once this year for you break your weird PDA rule around our parents and kiss me. You've been kissing me nonstop, your hand resting softly on my belly, your kisses gentle, loving. The glow in your eyes, on your face, so so so beautiful.

I pull you upstairs, eager to kiss you after my trip down memory lane and you giggle into my lips when I attack you against my closed bedroom door. Your kiss is deep, hard, passionate, and I know you're feeling the same big feelings I am about our Christmas this year.

When I finally pull my lips off yours, your eyes are sparkling and clear with love. Baby, the way you look at me will always take my breath away. You peck my cheek and sneak out from under me, pulling your red sweater and black jeans out of the dresser to bring into the bathroom. You're so smart, babe. You know that if you start changing in front of me we'll never make it to breakfast. My hormones have settled and my sex drive has come roaring back.

We've both had a lot of fun the past few weeks.

I change quietly and sit myself on the bed, hands on my stomach, eyes closed, listening to the hubbub from downstairs and centering myself for the day. My family is large, and excited, and it's going to be a long day of belly rubbing and questions about how I'm feeling and general cooing over us.

I don't know if I'm ready for it.

But I'm glad I have you to hold my hand and to distract people when I'm starting to get overwhelmed.

I hear you open the door and walk in, but I don't open my eyes. You throw your pajamas on the bed and sit next to me, taking a deep breath.

Your head lands on my shoulder and your hand on my back, and you start singing quietly. You're singing my favorite song and rubbing my back and it's your way of calming me down, telling me you'll be there for me today and I love you so, so much in this moment.

"You're cute, San."

"Psh."

"Nope. Don't psh me, you are."

You pull your head off my shoulder to look at me. "Only for you, Britt-Britt."

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." You let out a bark of laughter and lean in to kiss me. It's soft and sweet but it sets my heart racing, my stomach fluttering. The baby is dancing like crazy inside my belly, reacting to the butterflies that you give me.

The fluttering is crazier than normal, the baby is kicking up a storm in my belly and I start giggling, having to pull away from your lips. "Whoa, baby is dancing like crazy inside."

"Really?"

"Yeah…it happens every time you laugh or sing. But especially when you laugh."

Your face gets shy, bashful. It makes my heart swell again, and the baby kicks again. "Whoa!" my hand flies to my stomach, where a particularly hard kick was aimed and I can feel it. I can feel the baby on my hand. "Oh my god, Santana!" I grab your hand before you even answer and put it under mine, on my belly.

Your eyes grow wide with amazement as you look at me. You can feel the baby. You can finally feel our baby moving inside of me.

For the first time since we got pregnant, you can feel our child.

And your eyes glaze with tears and you gasp. And I have to kiss you.

And I do. And it's soft and sweet. And I can feel your tears rolling down my cheeks.

And baby kicks even harder, and you gasp again.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not really. It's not comfortable, but it doesn't hurt."

"Britt…this is…this is amazing. Perfect."

"It is."

And now we're both crying. Because this is perfect. The baby gave us the perfect gift.

"I don't even know how anything is going to top this today. Or ever, really."

I giggle at you again because, really, you are the cutest. "Merry Christmas, Santana."

"Merry Christmas, Britt."

And we kiss.

And it's the best one yet.

A/N: As promised a Christmas special. Thank you for sticking by me! This week has been quite full of feels for us all. Merry Merry.