"Santana," Brett sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair in exasperation. "This house is perfect. It ticks all of our boxes." He gestured around the spacious living room, his eyes bright with hope and frustration. They had been looking at houses for months now, and every time they came close to finding something, Santana would find a reason to hesitate. But this one, he thought, this one was perfect.
"I have to agree with Santana," Quinn, who had been standing quietly in the corner, stepped forward, her tone measured but firm. "The light floor does clash with the dark wood in the bedrooms. It throws off the whole flow of the space." Brett narrowed his eyes, the frustration bubbling just below the surface now. He couldn't help it. He had been trying to stay calm, "Why are you even here?" he asked, the annoyance in his voice barely masked. Quinn, unfazed, raised an eyebrow. "I'm here to support Santana," she replied, her tone cool.
Brett's jaw tightened. He turned to Santana, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration. "Why do you need support?" he asked, his voice softening but still tinged with irritation. "I'm literally your husband. Isn't that my job?" Santana, standing near the kitchen island, gave a small shrug. "She's just here to help us see things from another perspective," she said, avoiding his eyes as she traced her fingers along the marble countertop. "It's a big decision."
Brett exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know it's a big decision, but it's a decision we need to make together" he said, his voice calm but firm. "And honestly, this house has everything we've been looking for. It has a pool, four bedrooms, a double garage... it's exactly what we've been talking about."
Santana turned to face him, her expression conflicted. "I know, but..." she hesitated, searching for the right words. "I just... I always pictured us in a two-storey house, not a single. Something with more character. Something that feels... I don't know, more like us." Brett took a step toward her, his eyes softening as he reached out to take her hand. "Santana" he said gently, "we live in Miami. It's expensive here. And this place is beautiful. It might not be a big family home like your parent's house, but it has all the space we could ever need. Think about it—a pool, room for a family, and enough bedrooms that we can finally have people stay over without feeling cramped." He paused, squeezing her hand lightly. "This place could not be more you. It's bright, it's open, it's modern. We need to commit and get out of that apartment."
Santana bit her lip, glancing around the house. It was true that the place was beautiful—large windows flooded the rooms with natural light, the kitchen was sleek and modern, and the layout was perfect for entertaining. The pool out back was practically begging for lazy weekends and summer barbecues. But something still held her back.
Quinn, sensing the tension, spoke up again. "Look, Brett, no one's saying the house isn't nice. But I think Santana just wants to make sure that this is the right choice for both of you." Brett let out a frustrated laugh, turning to face Quinn. "I get that, but we've been through this with every single place we've looked at. And we keep coming back to the same issue—we're not going to find a perfect house in Miami that fits within our budget. This is as close as we're going to get. And it's more than enough. It's better than enough."
Santana's gaze shifted between Brett and Quinn. She knew Brett was right in a lot of ways. They had spent countless weekends touring properties, and each one had fallen short in some way or another. They were living in a cramped apartment with hardly any space to breathe, let alone for a family.
"Okay," she said quietly, breaking the silence that had settled over them. Both Brett and Quinn turned to her, waiting. "I just..." she hesitated again, trying to articulate the swirling thoughts in her mind. "I just need to feel like it's the right choice. Like it's where we're supposed to be"
Quinn, sensing that this was no longer her place to intervene, stepped back. "I think I'll give you two a moment," she said quietly, excusing herself to the other side of the house. Once they were alone, Brett cupped Santana's face gently in his hands, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. "Look," he said softly, "I'm not trying to pressure you into anything. I just... I want us to move forward. To have a home. Our home."
Santana's eyes softened as she nodded. "I know," she whispered, leaning into his touch. "I want that too. I just... I don't want to make the wrong decision." Brett smiled, his eyes filled with love and understanding. "Whatever decision we make," he said, "we'll make it together. And it'll be the right one because it's us. We make things work, Santana. We always do."
Santana closed her eyes, letting his words sink in. He was right. They had faced bigger challenges than choosing a place to live, and they had always come out stronger. This was just another step in their journey, and maybe, just maybe, it didn't have to be perfect. She opened her eyes, looking up at him with a small smile. "Okay," she said, her voice steady. "Let's do it."
Brett's face lit up, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. "We're going to make this place incredible," he murmured into her hair, his voice filled with hope and excitement. Santana nodded against him, letting herself lean into his warmth, allowing the last remnants of doubt to fade away.
Brett pulled back slightly, his hands gently sliding down her back before coming to rest on her growing baby bump. His touch was tender, full of the same awe and wonder that had been there since they found out she was pregnant. "We've got this" he whispered, his forehead resting against hers for a moment before he closed the distance between them and kissed her softly.
The kiss lingered, warm and intimate, a reminder of everything they had fought for to get to this point. As Brett's hands remained protectively on her stomach, Santana smiled into the kiss, feeling that familiar spark between them—love, commitment, and something even deeper than words couldn't quite capture. They were building a life together.
Suddenly, the sound of Quinn's voice broke through the moment, light and teasing. "Okay, okay, you two," she said, stepping back into the room with a grin. "Don't go all Rated R while I'm still here."
Santana pulled back from Brett, laughing softly as she turned to face Quinn. "You're just jealous Biff isn't here so you can get your mack on too" she teased, her eyes dancing with amusement. Quinn rolled her eyes playfully but didn't deny it. "You're not wrong," she said with a smirk, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. "But let's keep it PG, for my sake."
Brett chuckled, giving Santana one last affectionate kiss before he stepped away. "I'll go tell the realtor we're in," he said, his voice still full of excitement. He gave Quinn a nod and a smile on his way out, clearly energized by the decision they had finally made.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Quinn stepped forward and pulled Santana into a tight hug. "Look at you," she said, her tone softening, full of affection. "Married, pregnant, and now buying a house. You're doing it all, Santana."
Santana hugged her back, letting Quinn's words sink in. It was true. Her life had changed so much and sometimes it felt overwhelming to think about all the ways her world had shifted. She pulled back slightly, meeting Quinn's eyes. "I guess I am, huh?" she said, her voice a little breathless, the reality of everything hitting her all at once.
"Yes, you are," Quinn said, her gaze steady and proud. "And you're doing it all with grace, even when it feels impossible."
Santana smiled, a little emotional as she looked around the empty house. It wasn't quite home yet, but she could already picture it—furniture in the living room, photos on the walls, the soft sound of their baby's laughter filling the space. It would take time to make it truly theirs, but the foundation was there.
"Remember when we used to dream about what our futures would look like?" Santana asked, a nostalgic smile tugging at her lips. "Back in college, we'd talk about it like we had all the time in the world." Quinn laughed, shaking her head. "I know. It feels like a lifetime ago. And now look at us. You're starting a family, and I'm... well, still trying to figure things out." Santana squeezed her arm gently. "You'll get there," she said softly. "You and Biff have a good thing going. And when the time's right, you'll have all of this too."
Quinn smiled gratefully, though there was a hint of wistfulness in her eyes. "Maybe," she said, but then quickly changed the subject, glancing around the room. "But enough about me. Have you started thinking about how you want to decorate this place?"
Santana laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing as they shifted into lighter conversation. "I haven't even gotten that far," she admitted. "But I'm thinking something modern, lots of natural light. Maybe a few statement pieces."
"Of course, you'll make it beautiful," Quinn said with a grin. "And you'll need a nursery too. Have you thought about that?"
"Not really," Santana said, her hand absentmindedly resting on her belly. "But I guess we'll have to start planning soon. There's so much to do."
"One step at a time," Quinn reminded her, ever the voice of reason "We should go for a celebratory lunch," she suggested, her tone casual but insistent.
"Absolutely," Brett said walking back in with a grin, wrapping his arm around Santana's shoulders and pulling her close. With the decision made, the three of them piled into Brett's car. As Brett got behind the wheel, Santana rested her hand on her growing belly, her fingers tracing gentle circles as she leaned back in her seat. Brett glanced over at her and smiled, reaching for her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
When they arrived at the local Mexican restaurant, Brett was out of the car before Santana could even unbuckle her seatbelt. She laughed softly as he jogged around to her side, opening the door for her with an exaggerated bow. "M'lady," he said, grinning widely. Santana rolled her eyes, but her heart fluttered at his thoughtfulness. "You're such a dork," she teased, but there was warmth in her voice. She took his hand, allowing him to help her out of the car. Brett's hands lingered for a moment, making sure she was steady on her feet before he linked their fingers together.
As they walked towards the restaurant, Brett swung their joined hands back and forth playfully, his grin never faltering. Quinn trailed behind them, watching the two of them with a small smile on her face.
The three of them entered the restaurant, the smell of sizzling fajitas and warm tortillas enveloping them as soon as they stepped inside. Santana immediately relaxed, the familiarity of the place washing over her. This spot had been one of their go-to places for dinner dates, and it felt fitting to celebrate here today.
They were quickly shown to a cozy booth by the window, and Santana slid in first, followed by Brett, who draped his arm over the back of the seat as soon as they were settled. Quinn sat across from them, already looking over the menu even though she knew it by heart.
"So," Quinn said, glancing up from the menu with a smirk, "what are we ordering to celebrate? I'm thinking margaritas, chips, and guac to start."
"That sounds perfect," Brett agreed, though he glanced at Santana. "Virgin drink for you, though," he teased, nudging her gently. Santana laughed, rolling her eyes playfully. "Obviously." She placed a hand on her belly. "This little one isn't getting tequila anytime soon."
As they perused the menu, they quickly fell into easy conversation, talking about the house and what their next steps would be. "I still can't believe we're doing this," Santana said, leaning into Brett's side as she spoke. "It feels surreal."
Brett squeezed her shoulder, his thumb rubbing small circles on her skin as Quinn looked between them, a soft smile on her face. "You guys are going to kill it. That place is going to look incredible once you've got it all set up."
Their drinks arrived quickly—Brett and Quinn each with a margarita, Santana with sparkling water—and they raised their glasses in a toast. "To new beginnings," Quinn said, her voice filled with warmth as she held up her glass. "Pierce's" Brett added, his gaze soft as he looked at Santana. They clinked their glasses together, the sound ringing softly through the air, and for a moment, the world outside the booth seemed to disappear. All that mattered was the three of them, the love they shared, and the future that lay ahead.
As the server returned with chips, salsa, and guacamole, they dug in, the conversation flowing easily as they talked about everything from baby names to furniture shopping to Quinn's latest dating adventures. The weight of the last few months felt lighter now, the stress of the IVF treatments and the house hunt giving way to laughter and easy banter.
By the time their entrees arrived—Brett with a massive burrito, Santana with enchiladas, and Quinn with tacos—they were all thoroughly enjoying the celebratory mood. Santana watched as Brett took a massive bite of his burrito, his eyes lighting up as he chewed. "You always order the biggest thing on the menu," Santana teased, shaking her head as Brett took another massive bite of his burrito, he chewed with satisfaction, savoring the spicy kick of salsa and the warmth of the melted cheese. He was halfway through his meal, entirely engrossed in the flavors, when something—or someone—caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. As his gaze shifted, his heart skipped a beat.
"Brett?" The familiar voice rang out, hesitant but clear. Brett froze mid-chew, his cheeks stuffed with burrito, and for a second, all he could do was stare. Santana, sitting beside him, looked up in surprise. Quinn, who had been chatting animatedly just moments before, fell silent. Her entire body stiffened, and she froze in place like a deer caught in headlights.
It was Puck. Brett's eyes widened, his brain scrambling to catch up as he quickly chewed, trying to finish what was in his mouth so he could say something—anything. But words were failing him as Puck started to walk over to their table, a smile on his face.
"Oh my God, Santana!" Puck said, his grin widening as he got closer. He looked genuinely pleased to see her, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his old friend. Santana blinked in shock, completely caught off guard. "Puck?" she asked, her voice filled with disbelief. She hadn't seen him in what felt like a lifetime, and here he was, standing right in front of them in the most unexpected place.
Brett finally managed to swallow his bite of burrito, clearing his throat as he tried to gather himself. "Puck," he said, his voice slightly raspy from the effort of speaking after practically inhaling his food. "Man, it's been a while."
Puck nodded, his eyes flicking from Brett to Santana. But then, as his gaze drifted over the table, his smile faltered. His face visibly changed when he spotted Quinn, sitting across from them. Her posture was stiff, her hands clenched into tight fists on her lap. She hadn't said a word since Puck had appeared, but her eyes were locked on him, her expression unreadable.
Puck's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his gaze darting between Quinn and Brett. "Uh… Quinn," he said, his voice lower now, laced with uncertainty. "Hey." It was an awkward, cautious greeting—one that hung in the air uncomfortably.
Quinn remained silent for a moment longer, her face impassive. Then, with a tight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, she said, "Puck." Her voice was cool and distant, and the weight of unspoken history between them pressed down on the table like a thick fog. Puck rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to regain his composure. "I didn't expect to run into you guys here," he said, his voice faltering slightly as he addressed the group. "It's been, what… three years?"
Santana nodded, her smile returning as she tried to ease the tension. "Yeah, it feels like a lifetime ago," she said. "What are you doing here? Are you living in Miami now?" Puck nodded, grateful for the change in conversation. "Yeah, I moved back about a year ago," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I've been working construction down here. It's a good gig, keeps me busy."
Brett, still a little thrown off by the surprise encounter, tried to join in. "That's great, man," he said, his voice more casual now. "Miami's a good place to be. We've been here for a while." Quinn remained quiet, her eyes flitting back and forth between the men, though she seemed to be softening a bit. Santana noticed the shift in Quinn's demeanor and, trying to keep things light, added, "We're actually celebrating today. We just bought a house."
Puck's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Seriously? That's awesome. Congrats, you guys!" His enthusiasm seemed genuine, and for a moment, the awkwardness melted away. "Thanks," Brett said, smiling as he draped his arm around Santana's shoulders. "We've got a baby on the way, so we figured it was time to get out of our apartment and settle into something more permanent."
Puck's eyes widened again, and his smile grew even bigger. "No way! You guys are having a baby? That's amazing. Congrats, really." Santana beamed, her hand resting protectively on her belly. "Yep, we're about five months along now". Puck nodded, looking genuinely happy for them. "That's great to hear. You guys always seemed like you'd make an awesome team." He glanced at Quinn briefly, then quickly looked away, as though unsure of what to say next.
For a moment, the silence stretched awkwardly between them again, but Brett wasn't about to let things end on a weird note. He smiled warmly at Puck. "It's really good to see you, Puck," he said. "We should catch up sometime." Puck's eyes flicked back to hers, and he nodded gratefully. "Yeah, I'd like that. Maybe grab a drink sometime?" He glanced at Santana, who gave him a friendly nod.
Puck gave them one last smile before stepping back from the table. "I'll let you guys get back to your meal," he said, his voice a little more subdued now. "It was really good seeing you. Congrats again on the house and the baby. You're going to crush it."
As Puck turned to leave, his eyes landed on Quinn one last time, and for a split second, their gazes met. There was a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or unresolved feelings—before Quinn looked away, her expression hardening once again. Puck gave a small nod, then walked out of the restaurant, leaving the three of them in silence.
Santana exhaled softly, leaning back in the booth as she processed what had just happened. Brett looked at Quinn, concerned, but she simply shook her head, her expression unreadable. "Well," Brett said, breaking the silence with a half-hearted chuckle, "that was… unexpected." Quinn gave a small, tight-lipped smile. "Yeah," she said quietly, her voice distant. "It was."
Santana reached across the table, her hand gently covering Quinn's. "Are you okay?" Quinn hesitated for a moment, then nodded, though her eyes remained fixed on the table. "Yeah," she said softly, though the uncertainty in her voice suggested otherwise. "I'm fine."
The ride home from the restaurant was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the joyful energy that had filled their day only hours before. Santana sat in the passenger seat, glancing sideways at Brett every few minutes. His jaw was tense, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. His eyes occasionally flicked up to the rearview mirror, catching sight of Quinn, who sat in the backseat, staring out of the window. The silence between the three of them hung heavy in the air, making the car feel smaller than it was.
Brett sighed quietly, the weight of the tension pressing down on him. He knew exactly how the rest of the evening would go. Santana and Quinn would end up having a girls' night—ice cream, maybe a movie, and lots of talking—while he would retreat to the guest room, giving them space to decompress. He didn't mind, of course. Quinn was his sister, and she and Santana had been close for years. But he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Puck's sudden reappearance had left a bigger impact on Quinn than she was willing to admit.
The quiet hum of the engine filled the car as they drove through the Miami streets, the city lights blurring past them. Santana kept stealing glances at Brett, sensing the tension radiating off him. When they finally pulled into the parking lot of their apartment building, the silence still lingered between them. Brett parked the car and turned off the engine, the sudden quiet almost deafening. No one moved for a moment, as if stepping out of the car would mean acknowledging the awkwardness that had settled over them.
"Well," Brett said, breaking the silence with a resigned tone, "we're home." Santana gave him a knowing look, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. "I'm guessing you're going to the guest room tonight?" she asked softly, though it wasn't a question. Brett chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "I know the drill. You two can have your girly night. I'll just… get out of your way."
Quinn, still quiet in the backseat, finally looked up. Her expression was distant, but she managed a small, appreciative smile. "Thanks, Brett," she said softly. Brett waved it off, though there was a slight edge to his tone. "Don't mention it. I know when I'm outnumbered."
The three of them got out of the car and made their way up to the apartment. Once inside, Santana immediately headed for the freezer. She knew what Quinn needed right now, even if Quinn didn't say it outright. Opening the freezer door, she pulled out a tub of ice cream—her emergency craving stash. Santana had been saving it for one of those late-night pregnancy cravings that seemed to come out of nowhere, but tonight, it wasn't about her.
"Here," Santana said, handing the tub to Quinn with a warm smile. "This is my emergency craving for ice cream, but you need it more than I do tonight." Quinn looked at the tub in her hands, her lips twitching into a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Santana," she murmured, her voice soft. "You always know what I need." Santana shrugged, sitting down next to her on the couch. "That's what best friends are for," she said, nudging Quinn playfully.
Brett stood off to the side for a moment, watching the two women settle in. With a tired smile, he leaned down, giving Santana a quick kiss on the top of her head "I'll be in the guest room", ruffling her hair slightly. "If you two need anything—or if you finish the ice cream and need a refill." Santana laughed, swatting his hand away playfully. "Go," she said, her tone teasing but affectionate. "We've got this covered."
Brett smiled, glancing at Quinn one last time before disappearing down the hall toward the guest room. Once he was gone, the apartment felt a little quieter, a little more intimate. Quinn sighed, leaning back into the couch and staring down at the tub of ice cream in her lap.
"That was… yeah" she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. Santana nodded, understanding immediately. "Yeah," she agreed softly. "Puck showing up like that… I didn't see it coming." Quinn didn't respond right away. She simply dug a spoon into the ice cream, taking a small bite. Her expression was thoughtful, as though she were still processing everything that had happened. Santana watched her for a moment, unsure of what to say.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Santana asked gently, breaking the silence. Quinn hesitated, her spoon hovering over the ice cream. "I don't know," she admitted. "I just… I wasn't ready to see him, you know?"
Santana nodded. She did know. Puck had been a significant part of their lives, and his relationship with Quinn had been… complicated, to say the least. The two had shared a lot of history—some good, some painful—and it was clear that seeing him again had stirred up feelings Quinn had long buried.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," Santana said softly. "But if you do, I'm here." Quinn took another bite of ice cream, chewing slowly before letting out a long sigh. "It just brought everything back," she finally said. "All the stuff I thought I'd moved on from. Seeing him there, smiling like nothing had changed… it was hard."
Santana reached out, placing a comforting hand on Quinn's arm. "I get it," she said. "And you don't have to figure it all out tonight. Just… take it one step at a time." Quinn nodded, her eyes growing misty as she stared down at the ice cream. "Thanks, Santana," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'll never have to find out, now I've married into your family," Santana said with a smile. "Now, how about we focus on something else for a bit? We've got ice cream, a couch, and a TV full of bad reality shows. Let's just take the night to relax and forget about everything else." Quinn laughed softly, wiping at her eyes. "That sounds perfect."
As the evening stretched into the night, the tension from earlier had mostly faded away. Santana and Quinn remained settled on the couch, wrapped in a comfortable silence, their earlier conversations drowned out by the flicker of the television screen. They had gone through the tub of ice cream, and a ridiculous reality show played in the background—mindless and perfectly distracting.
Quinn shifted slightly, stretching out her legs, her head resting lazily on the couch cushion. "You know," she mused, "I needed this." Santana gave her a soft smile, licking the last bit of ice cream off her spoon. "I figured you might. And honestly, I needed it too. It's been a while since we had a proper girls' night." Quinn nodded a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. "Feels like college all over again. Except, you know, minus the drama and... well, plus the baby." Her gaze fell on Santana's growing belly, and she smiled warmly.
Santana chuckled, placing her empty bowl on the coffee table. "Alright," Santana said, stretching as she slowly pushed herself up from the couch. "I think it's time for bed." Quinn followed suit, standing and picking up their bowls. "I'll clean up," she offered, heading to the kitchen. "Thanks," Santana called after her, already halfway to the bedroom. "Oh, and just a heads-up, I've been sleeping on Brett's side of the bed lately."
Quinn poked her head out of the kitchen, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Why's that?" Santana smirked, pointing at her round belly as she walked toward the bedroom. "Because of this," she said with a playful sigh. "I've outgrown my side of the bed. It's too uncomfortable, and Brett's side is just... better. More room, less struggle."
Quinn laughed as she finished putting the dishes in the sink, wiping her hands on a towel. "Good to know. Guess I'll be taking your side, then."
By the time Quinn joined her in the bedroom, Santana was already climbing into bed, propping herself up with a few extra pillows. She groaned as she tried to find a comfortable position, her belly making it more difficult than it used to be. Quinn watched her for a moment, a small smile on her face.
"I don't know how you do it," Quinn said, shaking her head as she grabbed a spare blanket and pillow. "Being pregnant, I mean." Santana chuckled softly, finally settling into a semi-comfortable position. "It's not as glamorous as everyone makes it out to be, trust me." She looked over at Quinn, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "By the way, you're going to have to be the big spoon tonight."
Quinn blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what?" Santana grinned. "Yeah, you heard me. I know you're sad tonight, but I'm way too big to be the big spoon right now. Sorry", she teased, her voice filled with affection. Quinn couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. "Oh my God, Santana. You are ridiculous."
"I know," Santana said, her grin widening as she patted the bed beside her. "But seriously. Get over here and spoon me, Quinn." Quinn rolled her eyes, but she couldn't stop laughing as she climbed into the bed next to Santana. She pulled the blanket up around them, shifting closer as Santana guided her arm over her pregnant belly.
"There you go," Santana said with a satisfied sigh. "See? You're a natural." Quinn adjusted her arm awkwardly, still laughing. "I feel so weird right now." Santana giggled, nestling further into the blankets. "Welcome to my world," she said with a smirk. "Now get comfy, because we're in this for the night."
Just as Quinn was getting settled, she felt something under her hand—something that moved. She froze for a second, pulling her hand back as if she'd been shocked. "Whoa," she said, her eyes wide. "What was that?" Santana laughed, reaching for Quinn's hand and placing it back on her belly. "That," she said, her voice soft and full of wonder, "was the baby."
Quinn stared in disbelief, her hand gently resting on Santana's stomach. "Seriously?"
"Yep," Santana replied with a smile. "The baby's been doing this for months now. I think it's kicking as it knows I'm in bed as Brett usually spends this time poking it. Quinn laughed, her face lighting up with a mixture of awe and amusement. "That's crazy," she said, shaking her head. "It feels so... weird."
Santana nodded, her expression turning a little more serious, though there was still a twinkle in her eyes. "It's weirder feeling it from the inside, trust me. Sometimes it's like there's a tiny ninja practicing kicks in there." Quinn laughed again, the sound lighter this time, less burdened by the events of the day. She kept her hand on Santana's belly for a little while longer, feeling the occasional soft movement from the baby. It was surreal, like nothing she'd ever experienced before.
After a few minutes, Quinn settled back down, her arm draped loosely over Santana. The baby's movements had calmed, and the room grew quiet again, the only sound the soft rustle of the blankets as they shifted into a comfortable position. "Thank you," Quinn whispered after a while, her voice barely audible in the darkness. "For what?" Santana murmured, already half-asleep. "For being you," Quinn said softly. "For always knowing what I need, even when I don't."
Santana smiled, her eyes still closed. "You're the one who's spooning me tonight. I should be thanking you." Quinn chuckled softly, shaking her head as she pulled the blanket up a little higher. "Get some rest, San," she said quietly. "You and the baby need I,." Santana mumbled something incoherent, already drifting off to sleep.