The restaurant was warm and bustling with activity, the scent of grilled meat wafting through the air as Brett and James settled into a booth. James was engrossed in a coloring book that Brett had brought along to keep him occupied, his small fingers carefully filling in the lines with bright hues of green and blue.

"What do you want, bud?" Brett asked, glancing at the menu before looking over at his son. James didn't look up from his coloring, his concentration focused on the task at hand. "Chicken Crispers," he said decisively, his tone as serious as if he were making the most important decision of his life.

"Chicken Crispers, it is," Brett confirmed with a nod, before turning his attention back to the menu. He scanned the options briefly, his mind made up almost as soon as he opened it. "I think I'm going to get some ribs," he added, more to himself than to James, but the boy looked up briefly and nodded, as if approving his choice.

As they waited for their food, James continued to color, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration. Brett watched him for a moment, a soft smile on his face. It was in these quiet moments that he often found himself marveling at how quickly James was growing up. His little boy wasn't so little anymore, and each passing day brought new challenges and joys that Brett tried his best to navigate.

"Where are Ollie and San?" James asked suddenly, looking up from his coloring with a curious expression. He had been so focused on his drawing that it seemed he'd only just noticed their absence.

"Santana had a doctor's appointment this afternoon, so she picked Oliver up from Pre-K early," he explained. "They already had food out, so it's just you and me tonight."

James nodded at this, seemingly satisfied with the explanation. He returned to his coloring, the question now out of his mind as quickly as it had entered. Brett watched him for another moment, his thoughts drifting. He knew he needed to have a conversation with James about the sleeping arrangements at home, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up.

The server arrived with their food, placing a plate of Chicken Crispers in front of James and a rack of ribs in front of Brett. They ate in relative silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being the clink of utensils against plates and the occasional slurp of a drink. Finally, Brett decided to take the plunge. He set down his fork and looked at James, who was now dipping a chicken strip into a puddle of ketchup. "James," Brett began, his voice gentle, "how do you feel about putting the bunk beds together again?"

James didn't hesitate. He shook his head emphatically, his face scrunching up in a frown. "No," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "I don't want to."

Brett's heart sank a little, though he had suspected this might be James's reaction. He had hoped that James might be more open to the idea."Why not, bud?" Brett asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. He didn't want to push too hard, but he needed to understand what was going on in James's head.

James looked down at his plate, his small hands fiddling with a piece of chicken. "I like having my own room," he said quietly. "I don't want to share with Oliver."

Brett nodded slowly, understanding starting to dawn. James was at that age where he was beginning to crave independence, and the idea of sharing his space again likely felt like a step backward. Brett couldn't blame him for that.

"I get it," Brett said softly, his voice filled with understanding as he looked at James. "I like having my own room," James repeated, his voice a mix of stubbornness and vulnerability. He wasn't just being difficult; he genuinely enjoyed the sense of independence that came with his own space.

Brett sighed, "I know you do, bud," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But the thing is, Oliver isn't ready to have his own room yet." James shrugged, a small motion that spoke volumes. "Can't you share a room with him?" he suggested, his tone both innocent and insistent.

Brett couldn't help but chuckle at the idea. "I have to share a room with Santana," he reminded James, his lips curling into a smile. The thought of him and Oliver sharing a room was absurd, but he understood that to James, it might seem like a perfectly logical solution.

James didn't respond immediately, his eyes downcast as he toyed with his fork. Brett could tell he was thinking it over, trying to reconcile his own desires with the reality of the situation. The last thing Brett wanted was to force James into something that would make him unhappy, but he also needed to consider Oliver's needs.

"How about this," Brett began, leaning forward to get James's full attention. "We put the bunk beds together in Oliver's room for now. And then, we'll get a bigger bed for your room. That way, when Oliver is okay with sleeping alone, you can go back and have a 'big boy' room all to yourself."

James looked up, his interest piqued. "A bigger bed?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he considered the proposal.

"Yeah, a big bed," Brett confirmed with a nod. "And we can paint your room any color you want. You'll get to decide how it looks. It'll be like your own personal space, just the way you want it."

James's expression brightened at this new prospect. The idea of a bigger bed and a room painted in any color he chose seemed to be a fair trade for temporarily sharing with Oliver. "Any color?" he repeated, wanting to be absolutely sure.

Brett smiled, seeing the gears turning in his son's mind. "Any color," he assured him. "You can have blue, green, even purple if you want. Just think about it."

James seemed to weigh the options in his head, his brow furrowing as he imagined the possibilities. Brett could see him starting to come around to the idea, the promise of a new bed and a personalized room working their magic.

"Until then," Brett continued, "Oliver will be in your bed with you. So, it's up to you. If you want your own room back sooner, then we'll have to get Oliver comfortable sleeping on his own. But it might take a little time."

James nodded slowly, his mind still processing everything. "Okay," he said finally, his voice filled with a newfound determination. "I'll think about it."

Brett felt a sense of relief wash over him. He hadn't wanted to push James too hard, but he also knew they needed to find a solution that worked for everyone. It seemed like they were on the right track, at least for now.

Brett and James walked into the house, the warmth and familiarity of home immediately washing over them. As they entered the living room, Brett's eyes landed on a scene that made him smile - Oliver was curled up on the couch, his small body nestled comfortably against Santana as they watched television together. "I didn't know you liked 'Married at First Sight,' Ollie," Brett teased gently as he kicked off his shoes by the door. His voice was light, filled with affection, as he moved toward the couch.

Oliver turned his head slightly, offering his father a sleepy smile. Brett reached the couch and leaned down to give Santana a kiss on the lips, a tender hello that she returned with a smile. Her eyes, filled with warmth, crinkled at the corners as she looked up at him.

"Everything go okay?" Brett asked, his voice tinged with concern as he settled down beside her. His arm naturally found its place around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him as he stroked Oliver's hair with his free hand.

Santana nodded, her expression softening as she rested her head against Brett's chest. "Everything went fine," she reassured him. "It was just blood work today. Nothing too exciting."

Brett sighed, a mix of relief and frustration evident in his posture. "I'm sorry I couldn't get out of my meeting to go with you," he said, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm pissed about it, honestly."

Santana reached up, placing a gentle hand on his chest as she looked up at him. "It's fine, Brett. Really," she said, her tone soothing. Brett shook his head slightly, his expression softening as he looked into her eyes. "I know," he said quietly. "But I want to be there for all of it. I don't want to miss a single thing."

Santana smiled at his sincerity, her heart swelling with love for him. She leaned in to kiss him once more. Santana pulled back slightly, her curiosity piqued. "So, how did the chat with James go?" she asked.

Brett smiled, a hint of pride in his expression. "Your idea worked," he said, his voice warm with satisfaction. "We may need to go to bed and paint shopping this weekend, though."

Santana raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What did he say?"

Brett chuckled softly, the memory of the conversation fresh in his mind. "He was pretty firm on not wanting to share a room at first," he began, "but then I told him we could get him a bigger bed and paint his room any color he wants. That seemed to do the trick."

Santana laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You know, I didn't think he'd go for it, but I'm glad he's coming around. He's always been more independent."

Brett nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he likes having his own space. But I think the idea of getting to make his room exactly how he wants it made him feel like he wasn't losing anything by sharing with Oliver for a while."

Santana's smile widened, a sense of relief washing over her. "That's a good compromise," she said, leaning back against the couch. "And it'll be fun to pick out the new stuff with him. I'm sure he'll have some interesting ideas about how he wants his room to look."

Brett chuckled, the thought of James's creativity bringing a smile to his face. "I'm sure he will," he agreed. "But I'm just glad he's open to it. I was worried he'd be too stubborn."

"Well, he gets that from you," Santana teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Brett laughed, shaking his head in mock indignation. "Hey, I'm not that stubborn," he protested, though his grin gave him away. Santana laughed along with him, the sound light and full of affection. "Okay, maybe just a little," she conceded, her smile softening as she looked at him.

Brett leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I guess I can live with that," he said playfully, his voice filled with warmth. With a final kiss, Brett pulled Santana closer, his hand still gently stroking Oliver's hair as the little boy drifted off to sleep.

Brett slowed the car and turned into the parking lot, his grin widening. "Look, boys," he announced, his voice filled with playful enthusiasm. "We're at Santana's favorite place."

"What's that?" James asked, his curiosity piqued as he strained to see where they had arrived. He threw a teasing glance at Santana before answering, "A furniture store, so she can spend all my money." He laughed, only to be met with a playful swat on his arm from Santana, who rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the smile tugging at her lips.

"Let's go and find you a bed, James," she said, her tone affectionate as she unbuckled her seatbelt and got out of the car. Oliver, ever the little shadow, quickly scrambled out of his seat and placed his small hand in hers, his face lighting up with a smile that made Santana's heart melt.

The moment they stepped inside, James's eyes widened at the sight of the rows of beds on display. Without a second thought, he darted toward the nearest one, his excitement bubbling over as he leaped onto the mattress, bouncing up and down with pure joy. "I want this one!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the store.

Santana and Brett exchanged amused glances. "He's going to do this with every bed, isn't he?" Brett whispered to Santana, who nodded, already seeing the pattern forming.

And so it went. Bed after bed, James repeated his enthusiastic declaration, "I want this one!" each time as if it were the first. Santana watched him with a mix of amusement and fondness, her heart swelling at the sight of his uninhibited excitement. Brett, meanwhile, couldn't help but laugh, the sound warm and full of love.

After what felt like an eternity of mattress testing, they finally reached a decision. Santana stood beside a sleek walnut bed frame, her fingers tracing the smooth wood as she turned to Brett. "I think we'll get this walnut frame in full," she said decisively. "And the matching nightstands and dresser." Brett nodded in agreement, his eyes scanning the pieces with approval. "Looks solid," he remarked, appreciating the craftsmanship.

Santana then turned to James, who was still caught up in the thrill of the furniture store adventure. "What color scheme are we thinking, James?" she asked, her tone inviting him to share his opinion.

Without missing a beat, James responded with a confident, "Yellow."

"Yellow?" Santana repeated, a flicker of confusion crossing her face as she glanced at Brett. He, too, looked puzzled. "Yellow?" Brett echoed, tilting his head as he tried to imagine a room bathed in the bright hue.

James nodded enthusiastically. "It's my favorite color," he declared, as if that alone made it the obvious choice. "Since when?" Brett asked, genuinely curious. He couldn't recall yellow ever being mentioned before in their household. James shrugged nonchalantly, as if the answer were obvious. "Since yesterday."

Brett and Santana exchanged a look, one that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered. Santana leaned in closer to Brett, lowering her voice so that James wouldn't overhear. "We're not painting that room yellow," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for debate.

Brett nodded in agreement, his mind already racing to think of a compromise. "Maybe we could do some yellow accents instead," he suggested, trying to find a middle ground. "Like a few pillows or a rug."

Santana smiled, appreciating his attempt to balance James's newfound love of yellow with their own desire for a more subdued color scheme. "That could work," she agreed, her tone softening as she looked back at James, who was now inspecting a set of bookshelves with keen interest.

They spent the next hour browsing through the store, with James occasionally dashing off to test another piece of furniture or to inspect some new discovery. Oliver, meanwhile, remained content at Santana's side, his hand still firmly grasping hers as he took in the vastness of the store with wide, curious eyes.

Eventually, they made their way to the checkout counter, their selections finalized and their plans for James's new room coming together. As they stood in line, Santana looked down at James, who was now clutching a small, plush yellow pillow that he had found in the children's section.

"Do you like that?" she asked, her voice gentle. James nodded, his eyes shining with excitement. "It's soft," he said, rubbing his cheek against the fabric.

Santana smiled, reaching out to smooth his hair. "Okay, we'll get it for your new bed," she said, her heart warming at the sight of his happiness.

As they drove home from the furniture store, the car was filled with a mixture of excitement and calm. Brett glanced into the rearview mirror, watching James in the back seat, his little face glowing with satisfaction after picking out his new bed."The furniture will be arriving in four days," Brett mentioned, breaking the comfortable silence. "I'll ask Puck to come help me move it all in place, and we'll put the bunk beds together in Oliver's room." Santana glanced back at Oliver, her tone warm. "You excited to have the bunk beds in your room, Ollie? And to have James sharing with you?"

Oliver, who had been quiet for most of the trip, nodded softly, his small voice barely audible as he whispered, "Yes." Santana smiled at the timidness in his answer. She reached back to gently squeeze Oliver's leg, her fingers playfully tickling his knee, causing him to burst into a fit of giggles. "Good," she said, her own laughter blending with his. "It's going to be so much fun. You'll have your big brother right there with you."

As they continued driving, James remained in his excited state, bouncing in his seat while chatting away about all the things he would do with his new room. "Dad, can we get posters too? Like with superheroes and stuff?" he asked, his voice bubbling with energy.

"Of course, bud," Brett replied with a chuckle. James beamed, clearly pleased with the response. "And Ollie," James added, turning toward his younger brother, "I'm gonna sleep on the top though, okay?" Oliver nodded again, more confidently this time, clearly excited but still shy in his own way. "Okay," he whispered.

The following week passed by in a blur at the Lopez-Pierce household. Life had settled into a comfortable routine, though the looming arrival of Brett's family for dinner had added a layer of excitement to the air. Santana had spent the afternoon in the kitchen with James, guiding him through the process of making tacos. His small hands clumsily tore lettuce leaves while she chopped tomatoes, their chatter filling the room with warmth.

"San, do we have enough cheese?" James asked, looking up at her with his wide eyes.

"Plenty, James," Santana assured him, ruffling his hair as she glanced at the kitchen counter. Bowls of shredded cheese, diced tomatoes, lettuce, and various other toppings were all laid out in preparation. The aroma of seasoned beef sizzling in the pan filled the air, making her mouth water. "You've done a great job helping today."

Just then, the sound of the front door opening caught their attention. Brett's voice carried through the house, full of energy. "Look who I have with me!" he called out as he walked in, his tone filled with excitement.

James's eyes lit up, and he immediately abandoned his post in the kitchen to rush toward the entryway. "Grandma! Grandad!" he shouted, his feet pounding against the hardwood floors.

Santana could hear the delighted voices of Brett's parents, Stephen and Whitney, as they greeted James with open arms. Oliver, who had been playing quietly in the living room, quickly followed suit, his excitement just as palpable as his brother's.

"I made tacos!" James yelled again, his voice echoing through the house as Stephen scooped up Oliver, lifting him high into the air.

"Hello, my sweet little Oliver," Stephen whispered to the boy, his voice gentle as he pulled him close for a warm hug. Whitney entered the kitchen, her arms open wide as she wrapped Santana in a tight hug. "It smells incredible in here," she commented, pulling back to give Santana an appreciative smile. "You've outdone yourself, as always."

"Thank you," Santana replied, her cheeks flushing with pleasure. Cooking had always been one of her love languages, and hearing praise from Brett's mother meant the world to her. "I hope everyone's hungry."

"Starving," Whitney assured her, moving to help with the final preparations. She started arranging the tortillas on a platter, her movements smooth and practiced.

Sophia, Brett's younger sister, and her boyfriend Ryder followed closely behind. Sophia immediately zeroed in on the food. "I bet Thanksgiving will top this though," she teased with a grin, reaching over to snag a piece of cheese from the counter.

Santana pretended to glare at her, though she couldn't hide the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Rude," she shot back, before laughing. "But true." Sophia laughed, clearly enjoying the banter. "We can't wait."

Brett entered the kitchen next, a proud smile on his face as he looked around at his family gathered together. He walked over to Santana, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before turning to the stove to check on the beef. "Smells amazing, babe," he said, giving her a warm look that made her heart flutter.

With everyone now in the house, the kitchen buzzed with energy. Stephen placed Oliver back on the ground, and the little boy quickly ran to James, who was eagerly showing off his taco-making skills. Whitney moved to help Santana with the last-minute preparations, while Brett and Ryder set the table in the dining room.

"San, can I put the cheese on the tacos?" James asked, pulling her from her thoughts. "Of course," Santana replied, handing him the bowl of shredded cheese. "Just don't eat it all before we finish." James grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I'll try," he said, before carefully sprinkling the cheese over the taco shells lined up on the counter.

Once the tacos were assembled, they all gathered around the dining table. Sophia, who had just sat down next to Ryder, glanced around the table and then back at Brett with a puzzled expression. "Do we not have any wine?" she asked, her tone light but genuinely curious.

Brett, who had just finished setting down the last of the plates, paused for a moment. His eyes darted to Santana before he quickly responded, "Oh, I must have forgotten." He gave an awkward laugh, trying to brush it off. "Santana drank the house dry, you know what she's like," he said, attempting to joke, but it fell flat.

The room went quiet for a moment, all eyes turning to Santana. She stared at Brett, her gaze icy. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice low but dangerous. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

Brett realized his mistake instantly, feeling the intensity of her glare. He quickly backpedaled, waving his hands in front of him as if to dismiss the whole thing. "Nothing, nothing at all," he said, his tone more serious now. "I meant, we just don't have any wine. We have Coke or Sprite," he added, turning to Sophia, hoping to divert the attention away from his earlier comment.

Sophia, sensing the tension, "Coke is fine," she said with a shrug, her voice light, as if trying to ease the situation.

With that, everyone began to dig into the meal. James seized the opportunity to tell Ryder once again that he had made the tacos. His face beamed with pride. "I made these, Ryder!" James announced, his voice full of excitement. "I helped San with the lettuce and everything!"

Ryder smiled warmly at the boy, reaching over to ruffle his hair. "Well, they're delicious, James. You did a great job," he said, his tone genuinely impressed. James beamed at the compliment, looking over at Santana as if seeking her approval as well.

Santana, still simmering from Brett's earlier comment, forced a smile and nodded at James. "You really did," she agreed, her voice softening as she spoke to her son. "You were a big help today."

As the meal continued, the conversation slowly picked up again. "This is fantastic, Santana," Stephen said as he took another bite. "You've really outdone yourself with this meal. The tacos are perfect."

Whitney nodded in agreement, her eyes warm as she looked across the table at Santana. "You always know how to put together such a wonderful spread," she added. "We're so lucky to have you in the family."

Santana smiled at their kind words, the warmth in her chest helping to ease the frustration she still felt toward Brett. "Thank you," she replied, her voice sincere. "I'm just glad everyone's enjoying it."

When the meal ended, everyone pitched in to clear the table, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance. Stephen and Ryder took charge of washing the dishes, while Whitney dried them and put them away. Santana moved around the kitchen, organizing leftovers and ensuring everything was in its proper place. Brett, trying to redeem himself, made himself useful by wiping down the counters and tidying up.

Once the kitchen was spotless and the leftovers neatly packed away, everyone gathered in the living room for some relaxation. James and Oliver, now tired from the excitement of the day, curled up on the couch with their grandparents.

Brett, taking a deep breath, finally mustered up the courage to approach Santana. He gently placed his hand on her stomach, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said quietly, his voice full of regret.

Santana glanced at him, her gaze still holding a trace of the earlier tension but softened by the sincerity in his eyes. She sighed, her voice soft. "Maybe next time, think before you speak and try to make out I'm an alcoholic?"

"I panicked," he admitted in a hushed voice, glancing over his shoulder to ensure that no one else could hear them. The last thing he wanted was to rekindle the earlier tension in front of their family. "I just can't wait for Thursday when we'll tell everyone about the pregnancy. No more secrets." He let out a sigh, rubbing his hand gently over her belly in a soothing gesture. "I hate lying, Santana. It's eating me up."

Santana's expression softened further, and she reached up to place her hand over his. "I know, babe," she said, her voice losing its earlier edge entirely. "But we're almost there. Just a few more days, and then everyone will know. It'll be a relief for both of us."

Brett nodded, feeling a small wave of relief wash over him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. They stood like that for a few moments, wrapped in each other's warmth. The earlier tension had finally dissipated, replaced by a sense of unity and understanding. They were in this together, and soon they would be able to share their joy with the world.

After a while, Santana pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a small smile. "No more panicking, okay?" she said, her tone half-serious, half-teasing. "We've got this." Brett nodded, his heart swelling with affection for her. "No more panicking," he agreed. "I promise." Santana smiled, satisfied with his response. "Good," she said, leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips.