A/N- I'm in the middle of another project currently, but this story is a surprise for a reader's request. Enjoy!

Labor Day 2033

Well, it is Labor Day," Artie pointed out, in a tone that was much too chipper for the current circumstances, as Kitty just groaned.

He wheeled a bit closer, concern etched across his face, but it wasn't a contraction that had her groaning so much as his terrible joke. When he realized this, he relaxed, letting out a nervous chuckle. He reached for her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Sorry. But I had kind of been hoping for it to wind up happening today."

"And I wanted it to happen a week ago," Kitty commented, as they slowly worked their way around the second floor of the mall. "Like it was supposed to."

They were indeed here to get labor going. She had woken up to bad cramps that felt like contractions that morning. They'd dropped off the kids at his parents' house, in anticipation of the arrival of the third and final Abrams baby, but as soon as they did that, Kitty's labor began to stall. So they made a weird date of it. Kitty was craving "a really good breakfast," so before heading to the mall, Artie and Kitty went to IHOP where she inhaled an enormous stack of pancakes.

Artie had nervously picked at his food, watching her like a hawk. It had been awhile since they'd done the baby thing. The last time, with their twins, had been pretty different. Kitty's water had broken, they'd gone to the hospital, and she'd had a very quick C-Section, being that it was supposed to have been an induction that time. That straightforward, mostly pre-planned experience was more Artie's style. This not knowing whether or not today was the day was setting him on edge. Kitty could tell he was trying to hide his uneasiness though.

Since it was Labor Day, as Artie had pointed out, the mall was much busier than a typical Monday, what with the many sales and people being out of work. Kitty commented that maybe the mall wasn't the best place to get her contractions started back up again.

"Nonsense," Artie said, as they approached the big glass elevator. "Didn't I ever tell you? The mall was my favorite place to go when I was learning how to be a wheelchair user."

Artie's attempt at changing the subject from her current uncomfortable situation worked, as they made their way onto the elevator, everyone else stepping back and letting the enormously pregnant woman with the companion in a wheelchair get on first.

"Really?" she said. "No. You didn't."

"Yeah," Artie said. "Well, Mom and I wanted to get out of the house during the day. If we didn't go to a park for me to practice wheeling around the paved walkway... you know, like if it was raining or if Mom just wanted to go shopping... we came to the mall. It was the place where I first learned to deal with people staring at me."

"We're both dealing with quite a bit of that now," Kitty noted, though she smiled down at the little cherub who looked up at them with fascination as he clung to his mother's hand. Kitty and Artie didn't know if their baby was a boy or a girl. She kind of wanted another boy, though.

"Sorry." That was the boy's mother, who realized her kid was gawking at the both of them like a circus sideshow.

"It's fine," Artie said, doing a quick wheelie and making the little boy grin from ear to ear. As they exited the elevator and parted ways, Artie took in the sight of Kitty supporting her belly and added, "I don't think he was looking at me that time, was he?"

"Nope." Kitty was getting tired. They'd been walking for awhile now. And she needed to pee again. "Let's head towards the ladies' room again."

Artie reached up and held her hand while wheeling with the other, giving her another reassuring squeeze, before returning to the task of wheeling with both hands.

"Anyway," he went on with his story. "The mall was where I learned to wheel. I could sometimes get a visit to GameStop out of it, if I was lucky. Wanna go there while we're here?"

"Restroom, Artie." It was already getting urgent, even though it hadn't been that long since her visit to the one on the second floor. He just nodded and followed her lead, picking up the pace. She, on the other hand, couldn't move much faster than she was already going.

"Sometimes I can't believe this is happening," Artie commented, trying to distract her again. "We were supposed to have almost no chance of conceiving on our own, remember?"

"Our miracle," Kitty commented, breathlessly. "It'll be a miracle if I don't wet my pants. Oh, thank God!" They'd found the bathroom. Artie waited outside while she scrambled in, as quickly as she could.

A huge sigh followed, as she made it to the toilet just in time. It probably wouldn't be ten minutes until the next time she had to pee, though, as the baby was so low and putting pressure on her bladder constantly. She hoisted herself back up off the toilet and made her way to the mirrors and row of sinks to wash her hands.

Sometimes, she didn't recognize the person in the mirror as herself these days. Being short like she was, she carried the baby straight out front. Her face, her hands, her feet, everything was swollen. She couldn't wear her wedding ring on her finger, so that had to go on a chain around her neck. She knew she wasn't as big as she'd been with the twins, nearly eight years ago, but she'd still started hating her appearance. She had hoped to feel beautiful and glowing at the end of this pregnancy, but she didn't. She felt whale-like.

And so, it was only fitting that she should look over and see a person that she hadn't seen – hadn't wanted to see – since their high school days.

"Bree?"

Bree did a double take when she saw Kitty, not bothering to hide the way her jaw dropped when she saw her in her current condition.

"Oh, my goodness, Kitty!" she squealed, giving Kitty a much unwanted full body hug and then stepping back to actually touch Kitty's belly, as though that part no longer belonged to Kitty's body and was public property. "When are you due?"

"Pretty soon." Kitty didn't want to advertise that she was supposed to be due a week ago. At thirty-five years old, her doctor hadn't even guessed she'd be able to go this long. Her pregnancy was supposed to be "high risk" at her age, but truthfully, it had been a breeze this time around. Perhaps it seemed easier because the only thing she had to compare it to was her pregnancy with the twins.

"Boy or girl?" Bree worked her way through all the usual questions.

"We actually decided to wait and be surprised this time around," Kitty told her, cupping her belly protectively. "We have one of each already, so it just made sense."

"Wow... three kids." It was then that Bree, who didn't even live in Lima anymore (as far as Kitty knew) and didn't follow any of her social media, revealed how little she knew about where Kitty had ended up in life. "Who's the daddy?"

"My husband is Artie Abrams," Kitty said, reaching up and touching the diamond ring that presently hung on the chain round her neck. "For almost... fourteen years now. We got married right before COVID."

"Artie? As in high-school Artie? Artie-in-the-wheelchair-Artie?" The way she said it set Kitty on edge. There was kind of an amused smirk behind the question. "Aww! You married your boyfriend from high school, that's so sweet."

There was a condescending undertone to everything she said. Especially the way she'd brought up his chair. Kitty could see that nothing had changed with her at all. Plus, she was still the same size as she'd been in high school, maybe even thinner and more athletic-looking in a tight-fitting top and spandex leggings. Meanwhile, Kitty's back was starting to cramp up again and she was suspecting it was a contraction. Maybe an altercation with this "stone-cold bitch" from high school was enough to bring on her labor at last.

"Well. He's waiting outside for me. It was nice seeing you again."

Kitty wanted that to be the end of it. She didn't care to find out what brought Bree to Lima, definitely didn't want to make small talk in the early stages of labor, and didn't want Artie to have to pretend to be glad to see her, too. But, when she spun on her heels and waddled out the door, Bree actually followed her straight to where her husband was dutifully waiting on her.

"Hi, Artie!" she sang out, like she would have actually even remembered his name if Kitty hadn't just told her. "It's me, Bree! From McKinley!"

"Oh, h-hey Bree!" Artie looked between Bree to Kitty, obviously trying to figure out if the pained look on Kitty's face was related to sudden labor pains or the shock of running into her old cheerleading frenemy. (A mix of both.) "What brings you to Lima?"

"Oh, my mom's actually just gotten remarried over the weekend," Bree reported, with an eye roll that may have because she'd been forced to return to this town for the event. "My baby girl was the flower girl. See, here's a picture!"

She was already ready with a perfect picture to show them on her phone. She and her mini-Bree were wearing matching pink dresses. In a second photo Bree showed them, they were shown with the bride, Bree's mother.

"After over ten years of travel and adventure, I finally decided it was time to settle down," Bree explained, as Artie and Kitty studied at the picture. "Can you believe she'll be four years old next month? Time really did fly, after she got here." Bree scrolled back a few pictures. "That's her dad, Chris. We're getting married next fall. Only, as much as I like Lima in the fall, it'll be in L.A., since all our friends are there."

Bree didn't look like she'd ever given birth. Kitty's body was just getting close to where she wanted it to be, after the twins, when they'd had the surprise of a lifetime with this baby. And she felt like the older she got, the harder it was gonna be to lose the weight. Meanwhile, Bree – who was too good to even marry her boyfriend in her hometown, let alone live there – looked even better than she had during her high school cheerleading days.

"I... I need to sit down." Something about Bree being there really was getting her labor going, as her back twinged and tightened. There were couches right outside the restroom, so right after making this announcement, she gingerly plopped down as her husband approached her, placing a gentle hand atop her knee.

"We came here to get labor going," Artie explained, completely missing the cues from Kitty that she didn't want to talk about that right now. Bree's eyes widened as she took a seat next to Kitty, placing her hand atop Kitty's other knee. (At least it wasn't her belly this time.)

"Bless your heart," said Bree. "My flight's not until the end of the week. If you have the baby by then, maybe I can come by and visit!"

"Maybe." Kitty gritted her teeth.

She was trying to figure out how Bree, who hadn't seen her or talked to her since graduation, seemed to think it was appropriate to barge in during such a delicate time as this. Nearly two decades after high school without any contact, yet she seemed to have decided they'd just pick up right where they'd left off. Except that she, Kitty, had decided Bree was bad news the moment she started not-so-subtly making fun of her for being interested in the guy from glee club in the wheelchair.

Artie had taken her by the hand, but there wasn't much to follow the contraction that had been brought on by Bree's presence. He'd brought along water, ever-prepared for the event, and had gotten that out of his backpack for her. The water helped her relax a bit. It was going to make her need to pee again soon, of that she could be sure.

"Maybe we should go." Artie could sense that Bree's appearance and the fact that she'd probably try to follow them now had brought their time at the mall to an end. As Kitty got to her feet again, however, Bree had one last infuriating comment for them.

"So, this will make three kids?" Bree commented again. "Wow. No offense, but I didn't realize that was even, uh, possible for you guys..." She screwed up her face then, still in that same fake way that she'd done in high school, pretending she hadn't meant for it to sound mean. "Sorry, that came out wrong."

"Wow, yeah, it did."

Kitty was so proud of her husband. He'd come along way from being the boy in high school who often allowed others to positively trample his feelings and always pretended to be unbothered by their comments.

"I said I was sorry." Bree had the nerve to act indignant over his response to her fake apology.

"I was merely agreeing with you," Artie shrugged. "That your comment was pretty out of line. And, actually, we did have some difficulty conceiving our twins. And yeah, it was due to me. Our IVF journey was pretty difficult and downright depressing sometimes, but they're here. We thought our family was complete, and then, boom! Out of nowhere, the biggest and best surprise of our lives..."

Kitty wasn't sure if it was the retelling of their story or her hormones that made her suddenly emotional, but tears pricked the corners of her eyes just then, as Artie explained all of this to a suddenly humbled and dumbfounded Bree.

"Well, congratulations," Bree said, sounding like she just wanted to cut Artie off now and get the heck out of there. She glanced between he and Kitty. "You still have my number," she said. "It's the same. I'd love to hear from you... see a picture of the baby, if you have time. Keep me posted."

She might. She gave a halfhearted nod and a tiny side hug to Bree, before the other girl got out of there, without so much as looking at Artie. Kitty just looked at her husband, who stared up at her.

"You okay?" Artie asked her. "I'm not asking about the contractions. More about the ambush. You know she's not better than you, right? She's a total poop cup."

"A what?" Kitty giggled.

"A poop cup," Artie said again. "It's an acronym. It stands for Parent Of One Perfect Child Under Pre-school Age. And she fits the description. I bet she totally knows all there is to know about raising a child, now that she has one."

"Lord, help that child," Kitty added, as they both started laughing. She winced. It hurt to laugh. Artie looked concerned again. "Let's go home. I actually think I need a shower and my comfortable bed more than a place to walk."

...

Kitty's contractions were stalled again by the time they got home. She showered, got into her comfiest old sweats, and propped herself up in bed to stream something familiar they they could both fall asleep to. The kids were still staying with Artie's parents, in hopes that Kitty and Artie would be darting off to the hospital later that night.

Artie took longer, as always, to shower and get into his comfortable pajama pants and an old t-shirt. He transferred onto his side of the bed and scooted all the way up to her. She'd turned on her side to cradle her belly, hoping tonight would be the last night before they got to meet the last member of their little family.

"Mom texted me to see how you were doing," Artie reported, wrapping his arms around her as he snuggled up to her back and cradling her belly. "I told her we ran into an old friend of yours from high school, and that nearly sent you into full blown labor."

Kitty chuckled, her belly shaking as she laughed. She was rewarded with a little jab, which Artie promptly covered with his palm. He loved feeling the baby move as much as she did. He or she was running out of room, so the movements weren't very big anymore. It was just enough for Kitty to know that the baby was still head-down and very much ready to be born.

"We should have stayed and let her keep talking to me," she commented. "I don't know why I let myself get worked up over her. She caught me in a moment of vulnerability, that's for sure."

"She's jealous of you," Artie observed, to which Kitty scoffed. "What? You don't think it's possible that she's jealous?"

"Bree, who traveled the world before settling down to become a 'poop cup?'" Kitty commented. "Bree who lives in L.A. and wouldn't dream of getting married and making a life in the town where she grew up? Uh, no, Artie. I don't think it's possible that she's jealous of me."

"Do you think she thinks any less of you, because you married me?" Artie wondered. "Do you think she thinks you could've done better?"

"What?" Kitty didn't like what she was hearing. She would have turned to look at him, but it was too difficult to change positions. "Artie, of course not. I mean, I don't know what she thinks, but I don't care. You're exactly what I wanted and needed."

"I love you, Kitty," Artie wrapped his arms around her a little tighter but was careful not to squeeze hers "I'm just sorry you have to deal with the looks sometimes."

"I'd choose you again and again, Artie," she said. "Looks or no looks..."

She was getting really tired, maybe because even though not much was happening, the time was most certainly drawing near. She needed her strength for the task that lay ahead. Yawning, she drifted off to sleep, with his arms wrapped around her.

...

When she woke up, she touched her stomach. Instead of the enormous pregnant belly, her skin was tight and her abs were even more sculpted than before. She sat up and realized she was in a completely different bed. She was in a completely different house. She was even lying next to a completely different guy...

The stranger was tall enough to fill the bed from top to bottom. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was Ryder Lynn. Ryder Lynn from high school? She couldn't figure out why she was in bed with Ryder and not pregnant with Artie's third child.

Oh. Of course. A dream.

She was having the kind of dream where she realized it was a dream. Pregnancy and mall food apparently didn't mix. It was doing something very strange to her subconscious, and she didn't know if she liked it.

She climbed out of this strange bed next to Ryder and strolled across the room, taking in the quaintnesses of her surroundings, the wood floors, the white linens, and finally the floor-to-tall-ceiling windows. This little house in her dreams overlooked the ocean. Her breath caught in her throat. It had always been a silly, girlish dream of hers to live in a house right on the beach.

She and Artie could move to a little house on the beach if they really wanted to, she supposed. But then they wouldn't have the support of family close by. When they had been raising twin infants and twin toddlers, having help available from family had been essential.

Artie always regretted that it took him longer to do anything with the babies and that he was far less efficient. He could find ways to do things like change them, feed them, and put them to bed, but always with the added challenge of managing his own mobility issues.

Still, whenever Artie found a way, Kitty was incredibly proud of him. They found their own unique advantages to their situation, too. For instance, eventually the best way to go out and about with their twins was for Artie to hold them both on his lap while Kitty pushed his chair. No need for a stroller. And yeah, a lot of people stared, but maybe it was just because Mac and Mia were so adorable on their daddy's lap.

Kitty looked over her shoulder at Ryder. There had been a time when she'd really liked that guy. And before Ryder, Jake Puckerman had been the guy she'd had her eye on. Artie often pointed out, back when they'd first started dating, that he wasn't her "usual body type." Kitty boldly insisted that it didn't bother her. And it didn't. Everything about who Artie was more than made up for the things he couldn't do. Though sometimes – especially when raising two, soon to be three kids – they'd both confessed that they just wished it could be a little easier.

She tore her eyes off Ryder and gazed back out at the ocean. Would she have even wanted to make time for children, if she'd had a life like this one? Probably not. A life like this tended to lend itself to lots of time to entertain oneself, perhaps the desire to carry on this way indefinitely, completely not tied down by anything else. Kitty touched her rock-hard abs as she watched the waves crash.

...

She woke up and her water had broken, all over the bed. Maybe the dream had done it. Artie got into his chair and out the door faster than she'd ever seen him. Kitty could barely handle sitting in the car, as Artie drove like never before, too. (He was typically a fan of going the speed limit and slowing down well before most people did at yellow lights.)

She sat atop his legs as he wheeled them both inside the hospital before someone brought her her own chair. Artie was frantically texting the family as they checked in, Kitty doubled over in near-constant pain and letting the nurse know that she felt the baby's head already.

The time of their arrival at the hospital to the time of the baby's birth was only about an hour, she was later told. When they brought over the baby – a boy, just like she'd been hoping for – she breathed a sigh of relief that this was her life, and not the life she'd dreamed of on her own. This life, with Artie and Mac and Mia, and now another sweet little boy, was perfect.

"Now what are the chances of that?" she mumbled, as she stared down at the little guy with the eyes who gazed back up at her now, wide awake and calm.

"Of what?" Artie asked her.

"Of us having such a perfect life?" He leaned across her hospital bed to kiss her, not caring that she was still damp with sweat, her hair sticking out in seven different directions. This was real, raw. Who cared if the outside observer didn't see it as perfect?

"What were the chances that we'd conceive this little guy without IVF?" Artie added. "I think that's something we should celebrate. His name should be Chance."

Kitty scrunched her face. "Artie," she said, weakly. "That reminds me of that old movie, 'Homeward Bound.' The dog's name was Chance. And I always made fun of Marley for being named after a dog in a stupid movie..."

But Artie looked so sold on the name he'd come up with. She couldn't deny him, after the great pout that followed.

"... oh, alright. His name is Chance."

Artie grinned. "Happy Labor Day, Chance."