"Babe! Have you seen my cross-trainers?"

"Did you check underneath the bed?"

Did I check underneath the bed?"Yeah, duh, Quinn it's the first place I checked."

"Then, no," Quinn snapped. "But if you left them-,"

"I swear I will punch you in your jaw if you finish that statement Fabray! Lopez," was added as an afterthought, and as stupid as it sounded, she was seriously contemplating stealing Flopez from Puck.

Santana went back into the bedroom, nearly tearing it apart before she, on a whim, went and checked underneath the bed. Irritated, Santana snatched the shoes up and went marching into the kitchen, her cross-trainers held out threateningly in front of her. Quinn looked too smug for her liking. "Did you hide my shoes?" Santana demanded, shaking the object of contention.

Quinn turned slightly away from the stove. "Just trying to prove a point," she remarked.

"What, that you're a control freak! I already knew that! Of course I couldn't find my shoes, you hid them!"

"How many times do I have to tell you to find a spot to put them in and stick with it?"

"I'll stick with…," Santana grimaced rather than finish that statement. She sat down in the middle of the kitchen floor, and stuffed her feet into her shoes.

Quinn watched her wife. "Really, San?"

Santana scowled in return. "Yes, really. I'm running late as it is, and Idon'twant to hear Lady Hummel's mouth. 'Santana! I told you three times last night alone what time our flight gets in!Quinn bit back a grin because her impersonation of their friend was spot on. "WhyI'mthe one who has to pick up Tweedle Pale and Tweedle Short-Pants when they're staying with Mercedes is anyone's guess, and Berry's going to be showing up this afternoon, and the moms tomorrow," Santana breathed out. "Whose idea was it to ever have friends or family?"

Quinn couldn't hide the amusement on her face. She shook her head at her wife, and continued cooking. "You know you wouldn't be so frantic if you had actually gotten up this morning, and didn't wait until the last minute."

"No, I'm frantic because mydearwifehid my shoes from me to prove a point, and because there are going to bewaytoo many perky people here in just a matter of days, and our moms will be here, and the caterers can't seem to get anything right, and you changed your mind about the wedding cakethreetimes."

"Two!" Quinn protested.

"So then, what, that third call was just because you talked to her so many times that you decided to ask her out?"

"No…yesterday I talked to her about the Groom's cake,notthe wedding cake," Quinn said in an exacting voice.

Santana peered up at her wife, her eyes narrowing. "You what?!"

Quinn matched her glower. "A vagina red velvet cake, Santana? On what planet do you think I'd actually allow that?"

Santana bit down on her lip, outraged. "I don't give a flying monkey's red ass what you'dallow! It's supposed to bemycake!"

Quinn turned the stove off and set the pan on a cooler burner. "How do you figure that?"

"Hello?Groom!"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "There is no groom, there's two brides, and I thought we settled this once and for all." She pointed to herself. "Me, butch." She pointed to Santana. "You bitch."

"I highly doubt that anyone who knows all the words toLove, Actuallycan seriously be called butch."

"It's a touching movie! At least I don't know the difference between 'love me tender pink' and 'salmon rose'!"

"If you did know the difference between the two, I would certainly get more orgasms," Santana mumbled in a low voice."

Quinn pointed the spatula at Santana. "What?"

"You owned more than one picture of theBackstreet Boys!"

"You cried during sex."

Santana's mouth opened and shut. "Because I was hap…I mean, I did not! Those were rain follicles! Kari warriors don't cry." Quinn snorted, while still managing to give Santana her 'aww' face. "Quinn, if you're butch, Ellen DeGeneres is femme."

"Oh, and you are?"

"I know how to shoot a gun."

"That doesn't make you butch; that makes you a Republican."

"Actually, I'm apolitical. There's not a shred of difference between either of the political parties, they just pretend that there is so you feel like voting actually matters, and you're getting off track when the matter at hand is that you had no right to changemycake."

"We agreed on the wedding cake, so we should agree on the Groom's cake as well, and I don't agree that that's the cake that I want my nana, or my old teacher, or our old cheerleading coach, and the moms to see."

Santana jutted a finger at Quinn. "Not cool, Quinn. I want you to know that." Santana jumped up. "I'm out," she said.

"You're not going to eat anything first?" Quinn protested, motioning to the pan.

"I'm late!" Santana reminded her.

"Fine, go," Quinn snapped. "See you later."

Santana shook her head. "Un-freaking-believable, Fabray." She picked up one of the toasted English muffins, and scooped up a ladle full of the concoction that Quinn had been cooking up. The only part of it Santana seemed to be able to identify was the chunks of potato. She took a reluctant bite. "Happy, dear?" she questioned, through a mouthful.

When she started to leave again, Quinn reached for her arm. "Hey?"

"What now?" Santana demanded testily."

"Promise me that no matter how crazy this week gets, that you'll still meet me at the end of the aisle next Saturday."

Santana grimaced, but her face softened. "Gee, I don't know, Quinn, you've really been getting on my nerves lately!" But she smiled, before placing an obligatory kiss against her wife's cheek. Quinn let go of her arm, and the both of them rolled their eyes at the other as Santana walked away from her.

Of course she was late, and of course Kurt had to say something about it, but then they hugged it out and all was forgiven. Kurt was still without facial hair, but he had gotten muscular and filled out a little, and Blaine, well Blaine was still Blaine. How he managed to get away with wearing such short, tight ass pants with a fashion designer (albeit a starting out one) for a husband was anyone's guess. (Santana suspected it was because Blaine was the bottom in that relationship, and Kurt just liked watching his ass). He was now sporting a thin goatee, and his hair was short, curly, and without any gel product.

"You look good, Santana," Blaine complimented her.

"Very…marriedchic," Kurt added.

Santana scowled because of the words, and also because she'd forgotten that Kurt and Blaine tended to agree onwaytoo much, and finished each other's sentences. "Yeah, whatever," she mumbled. "Let's get your bags and get on with it!"

Kurt smirked. "I don't know why you still insist on pretending that you don't enjoy my company, when I know how much you do!"

Santana gave him a smile back. "Because I don't," she lied.

"Oh, sure, remember Barcelona?"

Blaine gave Kurt a playful tap. "Honey, you didn't tell me you and Santana went to Spain."

Both Santana and Kurt tried very, very hard to hold in their laughter, but it was impossible. Kurt reached for Blaine's hand. "Not the city, dear. Barcelona was a girl."

They stowed their bags in the back of Santana's car, and she took them to one of her favorite places to grab a casual meal. They had barely sat down with their food before Kurt stretched out in an over the top sprawl.

"MyGod, it's so nice to be out without the twins, for once," Kurt gushed over his cucumber, sprouts, and avocado open-faced sandwich. Like Santana, he still fell back into periodic spurts of vegetarianism. Kurt gave a knowing look at Blaine. "Don't get me wrong, I love the twins-,"

"Oh especially when little Tray does that waddle walk, right honey?"

Kurt slapped a hand over his mouth. "Oh, my God Santana, you have to see Tray do the waddle walk!"

Blaine jumped up, and stuck out his butt as if that was cute from anyone other than a 2 and a year old. Santana fondly remembered Phillip at that same age. He would follow her around like a little puppy, chattering insistently in hardly distinguishable syllables that halfway resembled words.

Blaine continued to do the walk for a little longer before he realized that they were in a restaurant-like setting. Kurt smiled brightly at his husband, reaching for his hand. "Like I was saying, I love the twins, I really do, but this week is going to besonice not having to run after two little demonic angels who seem to think that it's funny to pay with daddy's hand-loomed worsted wool when he's in his studio."

Blaine laughed, and Kurt chuckled, and Santana could just picture that someday this would be her and Quinn. Santana wondered if a little girl that had Quinn's genes would be the prim and proper, seemingly never get in trouble, except in really big ways type like her mommy was, or would Santana's influence turn him or her into a little hellion. Santana could just see that happening even though Phil had turned out to be a really good kid so far; Hazel wasn't the only person who was responsible for Phil's good-behavior. She might have only been around him a 1/10th of the time Hazel was, but when she was around him, she taught him well, making sure he said his 'please's' and 'thank-you's', and was respectful.

Santana wondered how Kurt and/or Blaine would react if she told them that she had a child. If she pulled out pictures of Phil, and shared with them little anecdotes about him. How he went through a naked phase after they first moved to Framingham. For a considerable amount of time (enough to cause permanent headaches) he'd absolutely refused to wear clothes, and getting them on him usually resulted in a very frustrated Hazel, Santana, and Phil. This was when Santana had earned Phil's 'mama', back when she would go over just about every day, and even spend the night sometimes.

But Santana didn't have any pictures to show, and she couldn't tell some of her oldest friends about him, because Phil was a secret that could never be shared.

"Oh, no need to scowl, Santana. At that age they can hardly help it!"

Until Kurt said those words she had been unaware that she was scowling, she hadn't even been aware of the conversation that was going on, which made her grimace some more. Luckily, before she had to come up with an excuse, or apologize away her behavior, her phone went off in her pocket. "Sorry, guys, I have to get this," she informed them before ducking away from the table. "Hello?"

As usual, pleasantries were disregarded. "You should have just received some images to your email. Are you near your computer?"

"No, I'm out with friends. What'd you send?"

"Some different angles for that back corner."

Santana slipped her ear piece in. "Give me a second, I'll see if I can open them on my phone." Santana opened her emails, and the attached, encrypted file. "How did you get this visual?"

"Toy plane with an attached camera."

Santana puffed out her lips at how low tech it all sounded. "A toy plane?"

"A modified drone, silent, but it looks like a kids' toy. It worked, and it was better than the kite idea, so you're welcome."

Santana studied the image sent, surprised by how clear the picture was. The back corner of the warehouse was the loading dock. With the exception of the pile of crates that were stacked up, neatly, against the back of the wall, for the back of a warehouse it was eerily clean. It made the crates look out of place. They looked old, like junk. But the locks looked sparkling new. Santana chewed on her lip, because it seemed that of all the warehouses that she had been sent information about, what they were looking for was probably in this one.

"The dimensions are right for it, and the dent that's on the dock door? It looks like it could have been made by the stamping equipment," Santana said, mostly to herself. "That edge looks to match the one from the equipment. Is this really being sat on?" She shouldn't complain, because it wasn't she would be in Arizona right now, instead of hanging out with her friend and his husband.

"I'm sure you've already been told about the fair, and about moving such equipment. It would take,"

Santana quickly did the math in her head, "Six 18 wheelers, and would need a crane. Plus they'd probably want to move them all together. That's a lot of activity for an otherwise rarely used warehouse park. I know."

"It's not the equipment the house is worried about. They want to know who's moving it. That's why it's being sat on."

"Ok. Thanks for keeping me up dated."

"I'll let you know if anything else surfaces. Good luck on your wedding!"

Santana gave a slight chuckle. Funny how she was more nervous about the upcoming week than the three that would take place after that. "Thanks," she said, darkly. "I'm going to need it."

Santana returned back to the table, to a frustrated Kurt. "I thought we had a no phone at the table rule," he scolded.

"When we were living together in the Hummelpezberry loft. Besides, that was work, and I had to get it. It's written into my contract."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Oh, puh-lease…weallhave people constantly trying to keep in contact with us, but both Blaine and I have agreed to unplug, because we realize how important it is to just 'be' sometimes."

"Well, Hummel, I do apologize for taking a call that would allow me to keep my job, but thanks for the lecture. Did I miss Warbler shaking his ass at some more of the guests?"

"I wasn't shaking my ass as you so inelegantly put it, I was showing Tray's dance," Blaine huffed.

"Well, how about I make you a deal. You don't do that-," she gestured, "again, and you will have my halfway divided attention the entire time that you're here?"

"Need I remind you that I am here early, so that we can finalize the plans foryou'reengagement?"

Santana sighed, and her face softened. "Oh, right. That wasniceof you to do that," she said begrudgingly. Kurt brought sketch books onto the table, and went through his plan. Santana liked it, but she thought something was missing from the whole thing. It was already going to be a little awkward because Santana didn't have a ring. There was no way that she could get it off of Quinn's finger without it going unnoticed, and the ring was the thing she did right with her proposal. Quinn should have her abuela's ring. She was certain about that.

"Considering that this is supposed to happen in two days, there's not much time to change things now."

"I know!" Santana admitted. "I just want it to be perfect, and it seems like something's missing."

"Well, if you were going to be surprised with a proposal, how would you want it to be done?" Kurt questioned practically.

Santana's eyes darted around the restaurant. "If you tell anyone I said this, I will deny it with my last breath, and then come choke you, but you know that scene inEnchanted?"

"Really, Santana?" Kurt demanded. Santana felt her cheeks burn in anticipation of Kurt teasing her. "Know it?" Kurt repeated. "Iliveit. Would you really?" he questioned, curiously. He didn't seem like he was teasing her, and for that Santana was thankful.

"Would I really what?"

"Like that as a wedding proposal?" She gave a shy nod. His face softened into that particular baby face that was always hard for Santana to stomach. "Awww," he cooed. God, this boy had been spendingwaytoo much time around his kids. "That'ssosweet, Satan. Who knew you were secretly a romantic?"

"I'm not," she mumbled, contradicting what she'd told Kurt over the phone, earlier, "I just think it was kind of cute, and…"

"Oh my God!" he squealed. Santana was caught off guard when his arms suddenly wrapped her neck, effectively cutting off her air supply. "I knew it, Satan! I knew that deep down, past the cynicism, and the sarcasm, and the barbed wire there was a real life human in there! And a romantic one at that."

"Can't. Breathe."

"I'm so proud of you!"

Santana pushed him away. "God, stop before you get your fairy juice on me!"

"And there it went," Kurt said, dryly.

"I'm notcute. There's just…there's this bridge at the Common, and a duck pond, and all the flowers. Plus it's like where Quinn and I had our second date, and it's kind of special to me."

Santana was staring daggers at him, daring him to say something about it, so Kurt kept his coos and simpering to himself, despite the happy dance he was doing inside. But then he frowned, suddenly. "Oh, but I don't know enough peoplehereto do that for you guys. I mean if we were still in New York, yeah, all of the NYADA washouts would justjumpat the opportunity for a public performance, but here? I don't know anybodyhere."

He seemed deep in thought. "I guess Brittany and Mercedes could probably find people, and it doesn't have to be a lot, and I've already got the perfect dress practically already made for you."

Santana blinked. "You made me a dress?"

"Practically," Kurt emphasized. "Prac. Ta. Ka. Lee. It's something I'm working on for a premier. No…not for an A-lister, I wish, I'm not there yet, but it's perfect. It's green."

"Green is not my color."

"No…but it matches her eyes…keep up with me Santana! Sunflowers should be no problem, and those arches, I know an environmentally conscious, inexpensive way to make those." He frowned. "There's just simply not time. I wish you had contacted me sooner. What about doing somethingless."

Kurt snapped his fingers, drawing Santana's attention back to him. "I've got it. You say you like this park thing, how about if we do dinner and a play like in your favorite spot. We'll start with a limo. You'll pick Quinn up, of course. We can roll out the red carpet for her at the entrance, than you can escort her to a place, picked by moi, where I will have a five-star dinner prepared for you, and we, your Glee friends, will serenade the two of you with our dulcet sounds, and then you propose. Well, present her with your fabulous plead since you guys are already married." Kurt paused. "Oooh, I should totally be a wedding planner. Next life!"

Two hours before Rachel's flight was set to land, Quinn received a text message from Santana letting her know that she, Mercedes, and Kurt were caught up for the rest of the day, so Quinn took a break from her meticulous cleaning of her apartment to pick Rachel up from the airport. Rachel squealed upon sight of Quinn as if they weren't both almost 30, hadn't seen each other just a few months before at Noah's wedding, and as if she wasn't a Broadway star who was almost always surrounded by celebrities.

Quinn greeted her friend with her patented Rachel Berry smile. "Hi, Rachel," she said in return of Rachel's more enthusiastic greeting. "How have you been?"

"I'm so excited! This week is going to be so fantastic! It's been awhile since I've been to Boston, and it's going to be wonderful reconnecting with all the Glee kids. Gosh, I haven't seen some of them in years! Oh, and there's so many places that I've just been dying to see. You can show me around, of course?"

"Oh, of course," Quinn agreed. Because between the reception, the fitting for her gown, and her moms, she had plenty of free time on her hands. "When's your date arriving?" she questioned curiously.

"They're already here," Rachel said, cheerfully, before regaling Quinn with tales of her Broadway life. If Quinn could help it, she didn't talk about her work life. Once her suit jacket was off, she was done for the day, and Santana didn't talk about work much either. But whenever Rachel was around work was usually her go-to topic. Being outside of New York was always a bit of a come down for the starlet because in New York she got the star treatment, but everywhere else, she'd get recognized every now and then, but Broadway was still its own little isolated community. Quinn thought it was good for her. The idea of a world famous Rachel made her want to cringe.

When Rachel and Quinn met up with Kurt, Blaine, Mercedes, and Santana, it was hard to say who rushed into the other's arms quicker, Quinn or Santana. "Tomorrow," Quinn began in her no-nonsense voice. "You are getting up first thing, and helping me finish up with my apartment. Justlookat my hands."

Santana gave a glancing look at her wife's hands. "Okay, tomorrow, you do all of the running around that we've been doing today, and just so you know, the baker ran out of the ingredients for the cream that you wanted on the top tier of the cake, so she's going with the orange marmalade instead."

Quinn's eyebrows rose almost into her hair line. "What?" she hissed.

Santana grinned. "Just kidding, babe. Of course I'll help you tomorrow, but only because you've been running around with Berry, and that's a punishment worse than death."

"You really should be quieter when you whisper," Rachel snapped.

"Why? I meant for you to hear it," Santana said in reply.

And so went the next couple of hours.

Quinn temporarily lost custody of her wife, as Rachel laid claim to her. They went out for dinner atFridays. Santana took the innermost seat in the booth, but Rachel scooted in right beside her, leaving Quinn to sit across from Santana. Her wife grimaced, but Quinn gave her a 'just go with it' look. 20 minutes later, Quinn was reconsidering after Rachel's hand touched Santana's arm for the 13th time that night. (Yes, she counted).

Rachel was a visual talker. When she demonstrated what one of the rookie actresses did, she waved her arms, and her voice rose, and other people in the sports bar actually turned around to look at her because she wasthatloud.

"-And the next thing I know, my gown is completely trashed! Like literally in stitches!" And another arm touch.

"Oh, no," Kurt remarked. "What did you do?"

"Bradley Cooper was right there, and I turn to him, and I'm like, 'for all that's holy, can I please borrow your jacket'. And he let me!'"

Quinn wasn't aware that her eyes hadn't left Rachel's arm, until she got an alert that she had a text message. Although Quinn was a staunch believer in not answering text messages at dinner, she secretly opened her phone underneath the table.

Just to be clear, is that jealously I'm seeing because you're jealous that Rachel's touching me and not you, or because Rachel's got her hand on your arm candy?

Quinn looked across the table and met Santana's eyes. Santana winked at her. Quinn typed back.Bitch's hand is about to get snatched if she touches you again.

Santana snorted, almost choking on her water, which caused everyone to look at her. "Umm…I thought I swallowed a bug," Santana quickly improvised.

Kurt wanted to see the gay scene, so Santana steered them toward Jamaica Plain. Their destination was the Machine, since it was a gay bar whenever Dyke Nights didn't take over, but Rachel insisted on going to the Milky Way because she'd 'heardsomuch about', and so they ended up at the one bar that Quinn had gone to, to try to pick up women.

Santana's hands fell down on Quinn's shoulders at the entrance. "You alright, babe?" she questioned, gently giving them a slight squeeze. "You look tense."

"Why are we allowing thestraightchick to pick ourgaydestination," Quinn mumbled.

Santana smiled with her eyes. "Is that you finally admitting that you're gay?"

"I'm Santanasexual," she corrected, "and you didn't answer my question."

Santana shrugged. "It's taken me a couple of years to figure out, but Berry's like a wife; she's just so much easier to get along with when she gets her way."

"Excuse me…what? And what is up with Rachel's hands being all over you?"

"Rachel's just physical," Santana said with a shrug. "It goes back to when we were living in the loft; you know those late night cuddle-watch movies with our arm-pillows, family dinners, or when someone," she pointed at Rachel, "got scared, and we shared a bed."

"What andwhat? You used to cuddle with Rachel, and you really said something to me about making out with her?"

"My lips never touched Berry's."

"Cuddling's way more intimate!"

"Not if it's with Berry," Santana said dismissively. "Hey, there's an opening at the bar. Hey Kels!" Santana called.

Quinn was still awkwardly in the process of turning around, when she saw a flash of brown hair moving. Her head swung around completely just in time to see Rachel locking lips with the bartender.

"What is this?" Santana demanded. "How do you know, Kelsi?"

Quinn stared hard at her wife. "How doyouknow Kelsi?"

"She's a bartender, and this is lonely hearts café for lesbians," Santana answered. "How doyouknow her?"

"She's…you know."

You know, looked over and spotted Quinn and Santana, and a smile spread wide across her face.

"Luce! Santana!"

"Luce?" Santana questioned, realization dawning on her. "This was the-,"

"Hey, you guys already know each other?" Rachel questioned, happily. She wiped some of her lipstick from Kelsi's lips.

"What's going on here?" Blaine questioned, and the same time that Kurt said, "I'm so lost."

Rachel giggled. "Oh, where are my manners? Quinn, Santana, Blaine, Kurt, Mercedes, this is my wedding date, Kelsi Walburn."

"Okay, hold up," Santana snapped. "I know how I know Kelsi, and I know how Quinn knows Kelsi, how do you andBerryknow each other?"

Rachel frowned at Santana's behavior. "Kelsi's my ex, Santana. I know I told you about her before, didn't I? I'm sure I told you that I was dating a college…no, I know I did, Santana, because remember I asked you about…," she realized what she was about to say, and stopped the thought mid-sentence. It didn't keep her from saying, "So you can't be upset for me because you forgot."

Quinn felt like she was the last person to come to the party. "Wait, so this is the ex in New York who…"

"Has a habit of relating life to song lyrics," Kelsi finished for Quinn. She gave a firm nod. She played with Rachel's hand. "Yep."

"So that's how you knew my name was Quinn," Quinn said absently.

Kelsi nodded, trailing an affectionate finger down Rachel's arm. "Ray-bay talks about you guys all the time. It's been incredible being an outside witness to you guys." She smirked. "I feel like I know all of you so well. I can't wait to get to meet everyone at the reception."

Santana rubbed her temple. "So, are you two together?"

Both Kelsi and Rachel didn't blushed and smiled, not answering. Rachel gave a sickly sweet smile Kelsi's way. Quint felt faint. Who knew the world was so fucking small?

"I love this song, turn it up!"

Judy obliged, turning up the volume on the radio. "-and he never, showed his face again," Maribel started to sing the next lines, forgot about the musical interlude. She tried to cover up the mistake by humming along until the music started again. "Oooh, I'm so glad, I finally found you. You're that one, in a million man. When you wrap, your loving arms around me, I can stand up and face the world again."

Justine and Judy joined in with the chorus. "You're love, is lifting me higher, than I've ever been lifted before."

Justine threw in an embellishment or two, so Judy provided the less musical background vocals.

They all laughed when the song ended. "Oh, gosh, I don't remember how long it's been since I've heard that song!" Judy exclaimed, face flushed and smiling.

Justine nodded in agreement. "It's been a long time ago, hasn't it? I think I was 15 when that song first came out."

"When was that?"

"Late 70s I think?"

"I think I had just entered into my 20s."

"Your 20s?" Maribel questioned. "Oh lord, who convinced me to get in the car with a bunch of old farts," she teased. "So, what boy had you two singing that song?"

Both Justine and Judy hid smiles. "Oh, Lord," Justine exhaled. "When that song came out I had theworld'sbiggest crush on Michael, Sr."

"Even back then, huh?"

Justine nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, God yeah. We weren't a couple, not yet. He was two years older, a power forward on the football team, and he was just the softest, nicest guy in the whole world." Justine got that dreamy look on her face that is bred after years of being in love with the same person. "Sometimes I feel like I've been in love with Senior my whole life. From the first time I saw him, I knew no body but me was going to get their hands onhim."

"If he looked anything like Junior when he was in high school, I would have been chasing after him, too," Judy complimented.

Maribel and Justine gave Judy matching incredulous looks. "Really, Judy?"

"What?" Judy questioned, confused. She looked back and forth between the two women. "Oh, you two know I would never go after someone else's husband. That's not what I meant! Honestly!"

Justine chuckled. "It's not that that's got us shocked," she said. "It's that you said you'd go after someone brown."

Judy balked at the assertion. "That was Russell, not me. In fact," she sat up proudly, "I gave one of the little black boys in the class a Valentine's kiss one year."

"Oh, how so very decent of you Judy," Justine commented with a look to Maribel. The two women snickered.

"What?"

"Just the fact that you called him 'that little black boy' is what makes us surprised that you claim that you would have dated a colored man," Justine explained. "Did you have a black friend once, too?"

"As a matter of fact, I did! So there! And you two can stop picking at me! It was different world then, then it was now, and you two know that. It's a new world, and I've adjusted."

"It's not that new," Justine mumbled.

Maribel reached across the console to give Judy's hand a squeeze. "Yes, you have, Judy-Prudy," she said affectionately. "You try, and when it still goes over your head, we laugh at you, but we still love you anyway!"

"Oh, boo to you Maribel Lopez! And you, too, Justine Jones!"

Justine guffawed, Maribel snickered and reached over to turn up the volume of the radio, but the song playing wasn't a song that interested any of the three women.

"What about you, Maribel? Was Pedro the love of your life?"

"He is now, but my high school novio was Manuel." Even now there was still that lingering burn that one seemed to always hold for their first love. "Oh, he had the sharpest haircut of anybody, and those eyes! He had these dark, almost black eyes that felt like he could see right through you. If he could, he sure had one hell of a view!"

Judy and Justine shook their heads at the implied naughtiness.

"What about you, Judy?" Justine asked with a kindness to her voice. She realized the potential difficulty of this line of questioning. "Was it always Russell for you?"

Judy snorted. "It was never Russell," she said. "Not even on the day we got married. Russell was a means to an end, so it's no wonder that he ended up in some other woman's bed.HigherI would say was this neighborhood boy, Nathan Rodinsky. He had these dream boat eyes, and looked a little like Donny Osmond. All the girls loved him."

"Did you two get together?"

"I wasn't even allowed to get close," Judy said, a little regretfully. "He didn't go to church, and all the mother's agreed he was bad news, so I wasn't even supposed to talk to him. All the neighborhood girls said that he could talk the panties off of anyone. I guess they were right because he sure got mine."

"Judy Fabray!"

"Oh, please, I doubt either of you were actually virgins on your wedding day, either."

"I'm only surprised you admitted it," Justine said. She fell back to humming the words of the song that was no longer playing. "I like Rita's version ofHigherokay, but I'll forever like Jackie Wilson's better."

"Who is Jackie Wilson?"

"Jackie Wilson was Elvis and Michael Jackson before Elvis and Michael were Elvis and Michael. They both "incorporated" him into their acts."

"Oh, Michael. I used to be soo in love with Michael," Maribel interjected. "I was in the fan club, and I begged and begged my mami to let me see him when he came to Cincinnati."

"Did you get to go?"

"Of course not." Maribel laughed. "But oh, we wanted to so badly!"

"Michael was too young for me," Justine said. "Jackie was always my crush."

The song changed and Judy actually squealed at the sound ofAin't no Mountain High. "The three women seat danced as the car moved steadily towards Columbus. The music was turned up again.

"Now why don't they still make music like this anymore?" Justine protested. "All the music nowadays is just garbage. My grandson played for me Jayze's old album and there's like 2 minutes of his daughter just crying. That's it! And that's supposed to be music? Marvin Gaye and Tammy? The Temptations, the Stones, now that was real music!"

"They need to make music like this again."

"Didn't that young guy, Michael Bublé try to do that? Wasn't that his thing?"

"Yes, but I hated him!" Justin asserted.

"I hated his looks," Maribel agreed, "and the sound of his voice. And anyway, I don't want to keep hearing the 'oldies'. I want new oldies."

"We should start a singing group," Justine said with a sudden burst of inspiration. "If our girls can sing…well they had to get it from somewhere, right?"

"Quinnie definitely didn't get it from me," Judy replied.

Maribel and Justine laughed because neither of them were going to argue that. "It doesn't matter if we can sing or not. Singers don't sing anymore…they have Autotune for that. We just need a really happening name."

"Justine, the kids don't say 'happening' anymore."

Justine looked surprised. "What do they say, then? Is cool stillit?"

"Fetch."

"Fetch," was repeated by the other two women. "Like what a dog does?"

"I don't pretend to understand kids," Maribel dismissed. "Half the time they're stealing from us and calling it new, the other half…wait, what do they do the other half of the time?"

"Break their mother's heart's by never getting married?" Justine questioned.

"Break their mother's hearts by getting married a few months before they're 30, and losing a 10-year, 10,000 bet?"

"Break their mother's hearts by…wait…no, I'm pretty happy with Santana right now," Maribel said, smiling. "Yes, I'm kind of upset that she got married at the drop of the hat, but she hasn't given me much grief about planning this reception, and if she wasn't so anxious to beat Noah to the altar our girls mightstillbe dancing around each other."

The three women shared laughter. "They do have a habit of standing in their own way, don't they?" Judy questioned.

"Oh, Lord, yes. Listening to Mercy come home and talk about them…it was like a soap opera! Oh and don't get me started on that Blaine and Kurt! I thought they were still going to be planning their wedding 10 years down the road!"

"They spent all that time waiting to get married, and then they flat out rushed into having kids. Honestly, I don't know where their minds were."

"Oh, hush. It's not likeweplanned life when we were growing up. Life happened, and you reacted to it, but these new ones, they want everything to be in place. It amuses me when they realize things never are ever really 'in place'."

"If that's not the gospel!"

"If we had waited until things were perfect, Pedro and I would still be waiting to have kids," Maribel said with a chuckle. "Has Mercedes found anyone special yet?"

"She's been talking to that Airman friend of Noah's, Young. Maybe it will turn into something."

"Oh, I hope so," Judy said. "Mercedes is such a bright, talented woman, and she deserves to find someone who appreciates that."

"That's the problem," Justine said. "It's the curse of the black woman."

"It's the curse of the modern woman," Judy suggested. She thought it over. "Unless you're like Quinnie and Santana, and you date another other women. Then you don't have that problem: we appreciate each other!"

"Yeah, when we're not fighting!"

They parked in the long-term garage, and made it effortlessly through security. They had timed it so that they were boarding less than a half hour later, and after another half hour they were soaring up into the wild blue yonder. "I got it!" Judy yell-whispered. "The Golden Oldies!"

Maribel snickered over the magazine ofModern Artshe was looking through. On the other side of Judy, Justine was knitting. "Have you been thinking about that this whole time?"

"I don't like it. I'm not old," Justine protested.

"If you have an AARP card, you're old."

"What about the Goldies?" Maribel suggested. "We could even be on TV, like the Golden Girls! We could have a TV show/music platform! We can be the new Monkees!"

"Ilovedthat show!"

"Which one?"

"Both!"

"Me too."

"Ladies, I'm serious…we should start up a band."

"Could you imagine how the kids would react if we did? They'd have a fit."

"Maybe, but the grans would think we were awesome," Justine said, contemplatively.

Maribel puffed out her lips. "When are you two hens going to stop rubbing the grandchildren in my face?"

Judy poked a finger into Maribel's side. "Well, if you and Pedro hadn't stopped at one, you could be in on this conversation, too!"

"Yeah," Justine agreed. "Everyone knows you have the perfect child, and then you have abackup!"

"How long do you think that they're going to wake up before they have kids?" Maribel questioned practically.

Judy seriously contemplated the answer. "I don't know. I know that Quinnie's a little scared off by motherhood, you know since she has a daughter out there." She looked at Maribel. "Is Santana…do you think that she's going to want to be a mother?"

"Oh, definitely. She and little kids always seem to have this bond. In fact, she already has a little kid out there that thinks of her as his mother," Maribel said to the shock of Justine and Judy. She smiled as she realized the words, though she was oblivious to the looks she had just received. "Hey, so maybe Idohave a grandchild," she said, happily. "His name's Phillip; Santana's been helping out his mom for years. I told her she shouldn't let that kid do that, call her mama, because he'll just wind up confused, but does she listen? Of course not. What does a mother know? She'll learn some day."

"Oh, wow," Judy whispered. "Did you say that Santana has a little boy? I wonder if Quinn knows."

"If I know Santana, Quinn was probably blindsided by it, like 'hey, so there's this kid who I take care of', but I don't think it's something that Quinndoesn'tknow about by now. Santana wouldn't lie. Not to Quinn. Not about something that big. She wouldn't want to hurt Quinn like that."

If that were true, Judy was disappointed that Quinn hadn't toldherabout it, but something about Maribel's statement made Judy smile. "It's so cute how much they love each other."

"And didn't even realize it!"

"I bet they still don't realize it! God, every time Quinn would come home in a tiff, I wanted to tease her about having a lover's quarrel with Santana."

"When she was staying with us, it was always easy to tell when she and Santana got into it. She was always more…relaxed!"

"And Santana was so far in denial that she didn't even consider it.Brittany," Maribel scoffed. "As if." She quickly backtracked. "Now, don't get me wrong, I love Brittany as if she were one of my own hijas, but for my daughter? I just never saw them having anything really serious."

"I love how close the four of them have stayed over the years, though," Justine responded. "It's nice not having to worry so much about Mercedes being in a big city away from home because I know she's got people looking out for her."

Judy and Maribel both agreed.

The flight was a miraculous non-stop, and so it was only a few hours before they landed at Logan. The three of them grunted as the plane touched down. They shared that knowing look mothers had in common. "Courage, ladies," Justine joked. "Remember: once we're off this plane, we are no longer Justine, Maribel, and Judy, we are once againmothers."

"Dios, help us to survive."

"Amen."

Santana's eyes scoured the arrivals board, even though her phone had already confirmed every second of the way that the moms' flight was on time. Still. She wanted to pace, but Quinn was holding on to her hand, keeping her in place. Quinn was exuding all the grace of one who was perfectly in control, but Santana knew her wife; it was just a mask. Inwardly, Quinn was freaking out, too. Being around family always made her that way.

"Relax," Quinn said for the millionth time. She wished she could follow her own advice.

"I am relaxed," Santana snapped, tersely. A moment later she realized that she snapped at Quinn, and then apologized, placing a quick kiss on her lips. "Sorry."

Quinn's back straightened. "We are grown women," she chanted. She had said this at least three times already. "We are not little girls anymore."

Santana nodded, as she had every other time Quinn said those words. "Right. All grown up, and married, and have jobs. Important ones."

"Filing papers for the government," Quinn said dryly.

Santana rolled her eyes. "I have never filed a single pape-," she paused because she didn't know how true that statement was. "Okay," she acquiesced, "I do file a lot of paperwork."

Bryne on the other hand, didn't have to file anything. Ever. "Hey, so how disappointed were you when I told you I wasn't a spy," Santana said in a thoughtful voice.

Distracted, Quinn's mouth twitched. "What?"

"Nothing," Santana said, quickly.She'dprobably still have to file paperwork even if she became a full-time agent, and besides, she'd constantly be away from Quinn. And Phil. She was already going to miss his 5th birthday, which was a kind of big one to miss. That didn't sit well with her, but since she would hopefully be done with her agency job by then, she could probably find a few hours to fly in to have a quiet dinner with him or something.

Wow…was she really ready to do this?

"They'll only be here for a week," Quinn whispered.

Santana shook her head, absently bringing Quinn's hand up to her lips to kiss it. "I was thinking about Phil," she explained. "Kids change everything."

Quinn nodded. "Yeah, but it's not like he's coming. He's already here and has been for the past five years." Quinn stopped abruptly. "Is that Mercedes?"

Santana turned with Quinn surprised to see the Diva making their way over. "Mercedes!" Santana called, to get her attention. Which she did. And several other traveler's.

Mercedes seemed as surprised to see them, as they were to see her. "Hey, guys, what're you doing here?"

"The moms are flying in today," Quinn explained. "You?"

"Here to pick up a certain Airman?" Santana teased.

Mercedes gave a look that only the Diva could administer. "No…my mom decided to come early for the wedding so could spend some time together."

Just then the passengers on flight 6042 flooded the waiting area, and there were three simultaneous calls of "Mother-," Quinn

"Mami!" Santana

"Mom!" Mercedes.

Mercedes looked back and forth between the three women. "Did you guys fly in together?"

Mrs. Jones looked back in the direction of the terminal. "Hmm…it doesn't look like there was another flight from Columbus landing just now…"

"But boy are our hands tired," Judy said.

"Oh, okay, you got jokes," Mercedes responded. "Ha ha."

Santana stayed in her mom's arms longer than either other girl. "Te extrañé mami!"

"Yo tambien, mija."

"You look…good Quinn," Judy said to her daughter.

"Thank you, mother…so do you."

Judy fluffed up her hair. "Thank you, Quinnie!"

Their party started to move towards the baggage claim. Santana quickly pulled Quinn into her arms, letting Mercedes and the moms go ahead of them. Santana made the sign of the cross, bringing her forehead to rest against Quinn's. "Dios me da fuerza."

"God…give…?"

"Me strength," Santana finished for her. Her eyes drifted to Quinn's. "I know that you and I are going to come pretty close to wanting to kill each other before this week is over, but I promise that when it's all said and done, wewillstill be Mrs. and Mrs. Lopez."

"Fabray-Lopez," Quinn corrected.

Santana pulled back, taking Quinn's hand in her own. "I don't knowwhyyou're fighting it, Quinn. It's only a matter of time before you drop the Fabray."

Quinn silenced Santana with her favorite method: kissing her. For a minute, they let the airport disappear around them, before Quinn was tugging Santana after their party. "One week," she said as a reminder.

"One week," Santana agreed.

"We can do this."

Quinn was doubting her words only a few hours later. She, Santana, Maribel and Judy were lounging around the living room, as Judy started to unpack and showed what she had brought back with her from Ohio.

"Mother!" Quinn hissed, her face burning a bright pink.

Judy brushed away Quinn's outrage, opening the book up to one of her favorite pages and showing Santana. "Oh, stop it Quinnie! I'm sure Santana's seen your tush before!"

"Mom!"

Santana winked at Quinn. "Don't worry, Mrs. Fabray, I have."

"Santana!"

But Judy hardly seemed outraged, so Santana ignored her wife, looking at the picture of little baby Quinn. Although looking at pictures of Trayce and Aubrey had had her wanting to scratch her eyes out after only a few minutes, Santana felt like she could look at little Quinn all day.

She pinched her wife's cheek. "Aww…baby, look at thatface. Lookat that face!"

Quinn's payback came a half hour later when wine glasses were refilled, and Maribel showed the two that she and Judy had planned this attack because Santana's baby photos were brought out after they had exhausted themselves with Quinn's. And there were a lot of pictures. Scary ones with the red eye on them, sweet pictures of Santana sitting in her abuelo's lap as they ate dinner, pacifier in her mouth, pictures of Santana playing with her equally young cousins, pictures of Santana pushing away a little boy who tried to kiss her. "Ay, dios!" Maribel said comically. "I knew then."

The pictures seemed to improve in quality as Santana's looks did. They happened into a couple of pictures involving Mr. Lopez's side of the family, and Quinn unthinkingly stopped at one.

"Whoa,that'sMelinda Lopez?" Quinn questioned, staring in shock at the picture of a much younger woman. It was actually a picture of a picture, Santana sitting with her abuela as she was shown a picture of her younger grandmother. She and Santana looked almost identical at age 16.Hmm…at least I know she'll age well, Quinn thought silently.

"Si," Maribel agreed. "They could almost be twins."

Santana excused herself under the guise of getting more wine. Quinn didn't immediately notice her exit, but as soon as she did she went tripping right behind her. "Are you okay?" she questioned, cautiously, inching toward the woman.

Santana frowned. "I just needed a moment, babe. It's tough…not having her at the wedding. My cousin Eddy, who hasn't been on this side of the country since 2009, is flying in just for this…"

Quinn hugged Santana to her. "You invited her, you did all that you can do, and if she doesn't show up…"

Santana blinked rapidly. "She used to love me, Quinn. You saw it, those photos. She used to want me."

"She still loves you," Quinn quickly insisted. She wanted to tell Santana that when Melinda thought that something had happened to her, Mrs. Lopez had shown concern which had to mean that she still cared. But Quinn kept silent about that because she knew that if Santana knew that Quinn had begged her abuela in person to come to the wedding, and then she still didn't show up, that that would hurt even worse.

"So do so many people in your life. But even if no one else in the world loved you, San, you don't have to worry because I l-,"

"Is everything okay in here?"

They both turned at the sound of Maribel's approach.

"Si, mami," Santana said quickly. Santana gave Quinn a look that she interpreted easily. She kissed Santana briefly on the forehead. "I'll go check on Judy," Quinn volunteered.

Thank you, baby, Santana mouthed. Quinn nodded.

Maribel apologized as soon as Quinn left the kitchen. "Lo siento, mija. Olvidé. I forgot."

"Esta bien, mami. It's okay. You can't erase the past."

"No, but it still can hurt. Mi cielo, sabes te quiero?"

"Si."

"Y tu padre?"

Santana nodded. "Si, mami. Lo se. I know."

Maribel hugged her daughter loosely, knowing full and well that Santana accepted comfort as often as she rejected it. "She was raised in a different time, with a different set of rules, and…sometimes, mija, we just get stuck in our ways and won't nothing change that."

"Lo se, mami."

"No matter what, though, you will always be my baby. You are always welcome right here." She patted her chest. "I want you to know that."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Lose, mami. I know! I know! Now can we get back to you embarrassing me in front of my wife, please?"

"I do seem to recall that I promised her that I would," Maribel said with a twinkle in her eye. Maribel and Santana rejoined Quinn and Judy in the living room. At their reappearance, Quinn opened her arms for Santana to fall into. As Santana adjusted herself in Quinn's embrace she thought she saw Judy and her mom exchanged 'Awww's'. Quinn noticed nothing, pulling Santana's baby book into her wife's lap so the two of them could continue looking through it together.

Behind their backs the mom's hi-fived.