After the kind of night sleep that seemed like it lasted for seven months, Santana's eyes cracked open to a bright light peeking through the curtains. She smiled at the warmness it brought and the gentle humming in her ear.

"Hey there."

That's when she realized it wasn't gentle humming.

It was devil sounds.

"What the fuck?" Santana recoiled away from Rachel, who had mysteriously taken the space that Brittany was in the night before. She was stretched out beside Santana, head resting on her hand and rocking a side-pony.

"Good morning, Santana," Rachel whispered. "Welcome home."

Santana felt the smartest option was to be as still as possible, as to not spook her. "Rachel, where's Britt?"

"Brittany took the kids downstairs for breakfast," Rachel replied rather innocently.

Santana did a quick check. "Oh, she did?"

"Yeah."

"You're sure about that?"

Rachel nodded. "Of course, I'm sure."

"Because I have a recurring dream where you murder my family and tie me up in one of your many abandoned downtown warehouse buildings and force me to create millions of usernames that constantly compliment your talents using various social media outlets," Santana recalled. "And this is exactly how it starts."

"That's ridiculous," Rachel laughed maniacally at the thought. "Completely ridiculous, Santana. I would never do anything like that." Rachel sobered dramatically and ended with one more. "Never."

In that moment, Santana just knew deep in her heart that the story about Artie regaining the use of his legs and joining the traveling cast of The Sound of Music as Friedrich von Trapp was bullshit. She very briefly wondered if she should try to save him, but remembered he was a tool.

"So, where are they?" Santana asked as she reached for her cell.

"Who?"

"My wife and kids, Rachel," Santana said. "Tall blonde lady and two pint-sized people, you've met them."

"Oh," Rachel smiled. She reached behind her and grabbed a manila envelope then dropped it between them. "Charlie was hungry and Max still only likes to talk to me if there's thousands of miles between us."

"We've got that in common," Santana said, dialing.

Rachel ignored that and tapped on the folder, "We have work to do."

"Uh huh," Santana acknowledged as she waited for Britt to pick up.

Brittany answered a moment later. "Are you straight up creeped out?"

"So you planned this?"

Brittany was amused. "It was a crime of opportunity. Although, I encouraged the side-pony because I know about the dream."

"Moments like these, I wonder why I married you and continually subject myself to this kind of terror."

"Because I'm hot?"

"Not worth it."

"Oh it's worth it," Brittany sing-songed.

"Okay, maybe," Santana didn't put up much of a fight about it. "Could you save me, please?" She looked up at Rachel and held the phone away from her mouth just a bit. "No offense, Rachel."

"None taken," Rachel shrugged.

"Help is on the way," Brittany said. "She should be arriving in 3, 2..."

The door swung open a moment later and Charlie was running as fast as her little legs would take her as she took a leap onto the bed. She didn't make it. Didn't even come close, as her little hands grabbed at the sheets and she slid back down to the floor. "Momma!"

"Oh no," Santana said as she ended the call. She crawled down to where Charlie was barely able to see over the bed. She dropped to her belly, crossed her arms and rested her chin on her forearm. "Impressive form, though, girlie."

"Hi Momma," Charlie said, reaching up in an unspoken request.

"Hi Charlotte," Santana greeted her. "You want to try it again? Get another running start?"

Charlie shook her head, but her eyes got big when she realized she was being lifted off the floor. Max was using all his six-year old might to help his little sister. When she was able to pull herself up, she smiled in victory. "Thanks, brudder."

"R'welcome," Max told her. He was initially was going to crawl up on the bed as well, but changed his mind when he saw Rachel.

As much as Max was wary of her, Charlie was the opposite. She crawled right over Santana and plopped right down beside her godmother.

"Hello there," Rachel winked.

"Hi," Charlie said, just a little shy. She playfully tugged on Rachel's hair, so Rachel pulled the hair tie out and gave Charlie her own side-pony.

"Reinforcements are here," Brittany announced as she entered the room. "What's Rachel making you do?"

"We're down to the wire," Rachel said, shifting Charlie into her lap after finishing her hair. She opened the envelope and dropped it's contents out on the bed. "I've got to get a date, make sure our attire is effectively coordinated and set up slightly out of focus paparazzi photos only shot from my most flattering side in less than three days."

"Insurmountable odds," Santana quipped as she reached for the page that Charlie had picked up and started to wave around. "Did you pick one?" she asked her daughter.

"Yep," Charlie answered, handing it to her mom.

Santana took and started laughing immediately. "Oh, this is good."

"What?" Rachel asked.

Santana deliberately shielded it from Rachel's view and flashed it over to Brittany.

Brittany reluctantly smiled, "Told you."

When Rachel finally did see the profile, she exclaimed, "No! NO! How did that even get in there?"

"I'd bet she'd go if you called her," Santana said. "Then you could stage another public breakup."

"Absolutely not," Rachel was adamant.

"She's the love of your life." Santana shoved the paper in her hands. "Even Charlie knows it."

"No, she's not."

"She is," Brittany agreed. "She's the love of your life just like fame is your mistress."

Rachel ripped the paper down the middle and crinkled it. "No!"

Brittany could tell from experience that Rachel was about to get worked into a frenzy and from the look on Santana's face, she was intent on pushing all her buttons, so she clapped her hands loudly. "Alright, well, Max and Charlie are going to spend the day with their grandparents. They'll be here in a just a few minutes."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," Santana said, humoring her little ones. "Right?"

"Where's Uncle Kurt?" Max asked. "I thought we'd see Uncle Kurt today."

"He's busy right now, bud," Brittany answered, patting his head. "We'll see him later."

"Okay," he said, obviously not happy with that answer.

"Gotta get a move on!" Santana said, gathering Charlie from Rachel.

"Kisses!" Charlie smooched her Momma's face.

Santana hugged her tightly, "Be good for your grandparents, okay?"

"K!"

"Okay," Santana handed her back off to Brittany and looked around for her son. "Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Help them watch her."

"I will."

"And don't eat a bunch of candy."

"I won't."

"And don't try to hustle your grandpapi for any more money."

Max's brushed his hand over his head in frustration, "It was for an internet startup."

"You're six," Santana reminded him. "You're only allowed 30 minutes of internet a day."

"We should talk about that," Max said.

"Sure, then we'll talk about your chore list," Santana countered.

One corner of Max's lips curled up, knowing he was defeated for now. "Thirty minutes seems fair."

# # # # #

"Okay," Santana sighed. She tossed the profiles of several possible dates back on the table. "Just give me your first three preferences."

"Three?"

"Yes, Rachel, three. The first three names that come to mind."

"That's imposs-"

"Just do it!" Santana said with frustration lacing her tone. "Three people. Anybody. Three people you'd like to go to a wedding with. Don't think, just tell me."

"To narrow it down is-"

"Rachel!"

"Jesus, Neil Patrick Harris, and Beyonce circa 2002!" Rachel yelled more than said.

"Ohh-kay," Santana nodded. "I did say anybody."

"I was under pressure," Rachel huffed.

"Well, let's start with the fact that Neil Patrick Harris has already politely declined three times."

"He's a national treasure!"

"That's true," Brittany interjected as she shoved a piece of popcorn in her mouth from the bucket she'd been dipping her hand in. Her eyes never left the projection of the different candidates that was on a continuous loop. "He's amazing."

"I know," Santana said, stealing her own kernel of the snack. "But if we ask again, he'll get the police involved."

"That's true, too," Brittany nodded.

"Alright," Rachel relented. "There's other options."

"Jesus, Rachel?"

"What?"

"Jesus?" Santana asked again. "You're Jewish."

"Which is why it makes perfect sense," Rachel stated. "Plus, I think it would go a long way in clearing up that whole religion vs. gay debate."

"That'd be a hell of a statement," Brittany agreed.

"Exactly," Rachel said. "I'd probably have to dress down, though. Don't you think?"

"Oh, of course," Brittany said. "You can't overdress with Jesus as your date, you'd be crucified."

"Let's just assume that Jesus can't make the wedding," Santana finally said, not entirely sure the other two were joking.

"I think she's got a better shot at Jesus than Beyonce," Brittany said, slipping another buttery piece in her mouth.

Purely out of curiously, Santana had to ask. "Why 2002?"

"Because you can't just take current Beyonce to a wedding like no big deal," Rachel replied. "Get your head in the game."

Brittany pointed at Rachel, "She's got a point, San."

"Alright, back to Plan B, what about someone who played Jesus?" Santana offered. "There's that guy from the mini-series."

"Very handsome in a homely kind of way," Brittany commented.

"Not a mini-series," Rachel said. "No, no. Wasn't there a Jesus film? Who played Jesus in the Jesus movie?"

"It was Moses," Santana answered.

"No."

"Yeah," Santana sighed. "...or was it Noah?"

"You could go with Noah," Brittany said after a moment. "Isn't that just as good?"

"No," Rachel said with a huff. "Nobody ever asks Noah to take the wheel."

"Unless it's a boat," Brittany mused.

"No boats!" Rachel complained. "They make my hair do a weird, boat wind thing."

Santana was just about to explain how one shouldn't harp on a certain biblical figure's mode of transportation if one is desperate, but she was interrupted.

"Stop the search," Kitty said as she sauntered in the room and right up to Rachel. "I was told to give this to you."

Rachel read it and then set it carefully on the table and took a step back. "Where'd you get that?"

"Courier," Kitty said.

"When?"

"Just now."

"Where?"

"It was delivered to the front gates."

"Really?" Rachel was suspicious. "You've been here all day?"

"Yes," Kitty responded. "For most of the day I was hiding in the coat racks."

"Why?"

"You said you didn't want to see my face 'til I had found a suitable escort," Kitty said. "And seeing as how it's still relatively mild in temperature, I thought the coat racks would be the most logical place to hide."

"That's smart thinking," Brittany commented, still enjoying the popcorn.

"Who's it from?" Santana asked, bending to pick the card off the table. She read it and she also placed it on the table. "Oh."

# # # # #

"Damn!" Brittany said upon looking in the mirror and catching her wife's body in her new dress. She turned all the way around to appreciate it.

Santana blushed at the gaze. "What?"

"You."

Santana glanced down, "It's okay?"

"You look amazing," Brittany said, reaching out to take her hand. "You always do-"

"Yeah, right." Santana had retained some of the shape she'd gained from her pregnancy with Charlie years before. Every once a while, she'd have the minor bout with insecurity about her hips.

"Baby," Brittany smiled as she pulled her in, "You're always the hottest lady in the room, but tonight you're going to make all the other ladies cry."

Santana let herself be held there. She wrapped her arms around her wife's waist and rested her forehead on Brittany's. They both stilled with eyes closed, enjoying the moment of togetherness without any of life's normal chaos.

"Do we have to go?" Santana asked minutes later.

"Normally I would say no, but this seems pretty important to Rachel," Brittany said. "And not just in the normal Rachel way, but-"

"I know," Santana said. "Like the real human person Rachel."

"It's weird when she acts like that," Brittany mentioned. "Almost scary."

Santana smiled and kissed Brittany softly. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."

"If she didn't seem so strangely vulnerable, I'd say we should ditch her and take advantage of our evening without the kids."

"So very tempting," Santana said in a breathy voice.

# # # # #

Santana watched as her wife spoke animatedly with Max over the phone as they were all being whisked by Figgins to the location that Rachel had been directed to this afternoon. She had already spoken with both of her children and due to the change of plans they were going to stay with her parents for the night. Everyone seemed downright thrilled at the notion, especially her mother who constantly complained that she didn't get enough "grandchild time." She realized that the person on the other end of the line must have changed when she heard Brittany say, "Whatever he says, he does have to bathe. He tried to convince Manny that he had a delicate skin condition a few weeks ago."

Santana heard her mother's laugh over the line as she chuckled at her grandson's antics. Whatever Maribel said caused Brittany to lock eyes with her wife. "Yeah, like mother, like son. They're both pretty sneaky. And we don't even know what Charlie's capable of yet."

"Stop gossiping with that woman," Santana told her.

She was mostly kidding, but looked to Rachel for some support when she noticed the usually confident woman was fidgeting. "Rach."

Rachel looked up, "Santana."

Santana gestured at her, "What's this about? You seem...nervous."

"I'm not," Rachel insisted.

"You look like maybe you are."

"Hey," Rachel said. "I know I dragged you two along tonight, but do you think you could give us a few minutes alone before you come in?"

Santana nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you."

When the limo rolled to a stop in front of a swanky new restaurant in Manhattan, Santana and Brittany both stayed put while Rachel shuffled out.

"Good luck," Brittany called and topped it off with a cheery thumbs up. As soon as Rachel had shut the door, she said, "Maybe we should have just stuck with Jesus."

"On the off chance that Jesus would have adjusted his plan and came back for this wedding, I don't think his first choice of date would have been Rachel Berry," Santana said.

"No?"

"Nah."

"Who then?"

"Madonna, who else?" Santana said without missing a beat.

Brittany agreed. "So..."

Santana looked at her wife as she felt Brittany's fingers tapping on her thigh. "So...what?"

"What are we going to do?"

"We're going to wait for a few minutes and then go in."

"How many minutes is a few?" Brittany asked.

"More than a couple, less than a lot," Santana answered.

"So, in theory we'd have time to..."

Santana smirked, "I think we could probably fit something in."

"Yeah?" Brittany asked seductively as she leaned into her wife.

"Sure we co-"

They were both taken off guard when the partition in front slowly started to descend and Beiste's head appeared. "Would you two like us to wait outside?" she asked earnestly. "We don't mind."

Soon after, the two of them were shifting through the crowd at what seemed to be much more like a club than a restaurant. "What is this place?" Santana wondered aloud, but Brittany didn't hear over the buzz. She seemed pretty intent to get wherever she was going, as Santana held tightly to her hand.

Santana finally caught on when they pressed through to the back of the building, into the bathroom, and finally arrived in a stall.

"Hey," Brittany smiled after shutting and locking the door.

"Are you serious?" Santana asked.

"I wasn't going to let Figgins watch!"

"They were going to wait outside," Santana argued. "Perfectly private."

"So is this," Brittany said.

"What? No!" Santana said forcefully, despite her hushed tone.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"That was before," Santana blushed for some unknown reason. "But we have kids now, Brittany. If we get caught, we get arrested. If we get arrested, we could go to jail. If we go to jail, you'll panic, dig your way out and disappear to another country. But, me? No, I'm going to have to get all Snix about shit and they'll dig up my past crimes. You know what that means?"

"You'll have to pay all those parking tickets?" Brittany asked.

"No," Santana shook her head. "Prison, honey. After that it's just a matter of time before I shank somebody in the prison yard. Who's going to raise our kids then?"

Brittany thought for a second about this mystery. "The streets?"

"So much worse," Santana said. "Rachel."

"Or Sam," Brittany said. "Sam could do it."

"Sam?" Santana laughed.

"Yeah, Sam!" Brittany said in defense of her buddy.

"Brittany?"

Brittany's eyes widened almost comically when they both heard her name coming from the stall next to theirs. Santana cupped her hand over Britt's mouth and leaned in closer to the dividing wall.

"Britt?" they heard again.

"Who is that?" Santana mouthed.

"I don't know," Brittany shrugged.

Santana did the only thing she could think of, she cleared her throat and dropped to the lowest tone she could muster, "This is not Brittany."

"Santana?" the muffled voice said. "Okay, now I know it's you."

"Wait," Brittany said, opening the stall door and knocking on the next one.

And there stood the one and only Sam Evans.

Santana couldn't help but notice he seemed even more uneasy than he normally did. She looked him up and down. "Are we in the men's bathroom?"

"Unisex," Sam said quickly.

"What are you doing here?" Brittany asked him.

"I swear it's a unisex bathroom," he said again.

Brittany's eyes narrowed. "No, what are you doing in New York?"

"Just visiting."

"On the same week that Kurt's getting married?"

"He is?" Sam was such a bad liar that it was almost funny. "That's news to me!"

"The Graduate," Santana declared. "You bastard!"

"No," Sam said. "No, no. I was invited."

"By?"

"By Kurt."

"Have you seen him?" Brittany asked, the line of questioning had begun to border on interrogation. "Have you talked to him since you've been in town?"

"Yes, briefly," Sam answered without meeting her eyes.

She watched him for a few seconds before her mouth dropped open. "You didn't."

Sam's eyes darted all over the bathroom, which Santana noticed was indeed filled with both men and women.

"What did you do?" Santana asked.

"It was accident."

"An accident?" Brittany shrieked. "An accident? An accident is falling down and breaking an arm. An accident is a 40-car pileup. This is not an accident, Sam."

"Whoa, whoa," Santana reached out to lay a hand on Britt's arm, trying to calm her down. "What's going on?"

"No, no, no, no," Sam begged Brittany. "Don't. Please don't."

"What?" Santana looked at him suspiciously.

"Britt."

"Sam," Brittany pointed at him, "did something horrible."

"Blimp lips?" Santana awaited his response. "What? Did you buy all the Carmex in the world, inject it with botox and put it back on the shelves? Is this your way of turning everyone in a fish-lipped freak like you?

"No, San," Brittany said. "Worse."

"Agree to let the bowling alley use your face for bumper lanes, scaring the children and making it impossible for the PBA to survive for future generations?"

"Don't make me tell her," Sam pleaded. "She's evil."

"It's better if you confess," Brittany said. "That's what we tell the kids."

Now Santana was getting concerned, "Okay, all jokes aside. What's going on, Sam? What's wrong? Did you kill somebody? Suffocation by trouty mouth? Sorry, besides the one joke, Fat Head…two. All but two jokes aside."

"He slept with Kurt!"

"Who? What?" Santana's eyes narrowed. "What? When? How? What?" She looked at Brittany. "How did you know that?"

"I've known him my whole life," Brittany said. "I can just tell."

"Brittany!" Sam was betrayed.

"When?" Santana asked him.

"I flew in last night," he admitted. "He picked me up, then..."

"...they did it," Brittany finished needlessly.

"Am I having flashbacks?" Santana asked herself. "It feels like we've done this before."

Suddenly the trio heard another familiar voice, "Did you get lost?" Kurt appeared with his hand on Sam's shoulder. "I think I just spotted Rachel, we bet-" When Kurt noticed Sam's company, he swallowed. "Oh...hi there."

"Of all the unisex bathrooms in the world," Santana smiled at her best friend.

"This isn't what it looks like," Kurt said.

"He already told us," Brittany punched Kurt hard in the shoulder.

"Alright," Kurt closed his eyes. "It's exactly what it looks like."

"This is bad," Brittany lamented. "Bad."

"Pretty bad," Santana agreed, looking between Kurt and Sam. Then an incoming Rachel caught her eye, "Ohh and now it's worse."

"Kurt! Kurt Hummel!" Rachel cruised right into the middle of the little circle they'd formed. "I thought I saw you. Why didn't you stop?"

"I thought maybe it was one of those really accurate trannies," Kurt said, gulping.

"No, it's me," Rachel beamed. Then she noticed Sam. "Samuel?"

"Rachel," Sam waved. "How are you?"

"Fantastic," she answered. "Turns out it wasn't you-know-who that sent the card today."

"Oh really?" Santana was intrigued.

"It was Patrick Stewart," Rachel said, with a half-hearted chuckle. "I told him he really needs to write more legibly."

"So..."

"I've got a date," Rachel announced.

"That's..." Santana cleared her throat not really knowing what to say. "...well, it's something."

"Congratulations," Brittany filled in the awkward gap.

Rachel wrapped her arms around Brittany and Kurt's shoulders, still smiling. She didn't seem to have picked up on any of the tension yet. "So, why are we standing in the bathroom?"

"It's unisex," Sam responded. "We can all be in here, so, you know, why not?"

"It's so good when we all get together. I just get so nostalgic remembering all the great times we've ha-" Rachel suddenly stopped. Her sixth sense seemed to be finally kicking in. She looked at everybody until her eyes landed on the one that didn't fit. "Why are you here, Sam?"

"Uh...I was taking in a few museums?" he tried to pass it off as innocence.

"Very cultural city," Kurt agreed.

"You…" Rachel's lip snarled as she rounded on Kurt, "...and you."

"Okay, okay," Sam did his best to wedge in between them, "Calm down, Rachel."

"I just found a date!"

"Not about you," Sam snapped off.

"Ah, fuck," Santana groaned, knowing that was probably the last thing he should have said. "Roll tape, people."

"You plied him with your damn California stomped wine, didn't you?" Rachel accused. She slipped off one of her clunky shoes, which never led to anything good.

"Rachel," Brittany put her arms out to halt any sort of violent act. "Put your shoe back on."

"You're going to cause a scene, Rachel," Kurt said as he tried to reign everyone back in.

Santana agreed, noticing that they were drawing attention. "Can we-"

"I can't believe you're cheating on the First Son with..." Rachel glared at Sam, "him."

Kurt grabbed the shoe that Rachel had been pointing at Sam, passing it to Santana. Santana handed it off to Brittany, who got confused and gave it back to Rachel.

Rachel accepted it and pointed it at Kurt, "Is that what you're doing, Kurt Hummel, just sexing all over the city?"

"They were!" Sam tried desperately to deflect by pointing to Santana and Brittany.

"Were not!" Brittany exclaimed.

"To be fair, you were trying to talk me into it," Santana said.

"Not helping!" Brittany thumped her in the arm.

"But for the record, no, we were not," Santana declared.

"Not that I should have to defend myself, but we have two mobile children with a penchant for bad dreams and thirst attacks, okay," Brittany said to them. "A couple of weeks ago, we had sex in a coat closet because Max was convinced the tooth fairy wanted all his teeth and wouldn't leave our room."

"He thinks that Mr. Tooth Fairy only pays the kid a percentage and then sells the tooth for more money online, " Santana added. "Kid has an active imagination."

"That explains the email asking about my dental records," Kurt replied.

"Are we not going to address the elephant in the room here?" Rachel questioned, still wielding the shoe.

"You've put on a pound a two, but I'd hardly call you an elephant," Santana responded almost on autopilot.

"Santana," Kurt admonished her. "Not now."

"You're the one who got her riled up, Cheater Cheater Blimpy Eater."

"Do we have to do this here?" Sam asked. "Let's all go back to Rachel's-"

"No," Rachel leveled the shoe at him, tapping his chest. "You're not invited."

"Yeah, sure," Santana pushed the shoe down, "But, let's get out of here before-"

"He ruined my wedding."

"Not exactly your wedding," Brittany reminded her.

"Nobody's ruined anything," Kurt intervened before someone else got shoe'd.

"So, it's still on?" Sam asked him.

"I..." Kurt looked helplessly at Santana.

"Hey, I'm already married," she said, gesturing to what seemed to be larger crowd around them. "Either way, we should go."

"I'm not going if you're still getting married," Sam said to Kurt.

"You're not going either way," Rachel uttered.

"It never fails," Santana sighed. "Nothing can ever go smoothly with this group of people."

"And whose fault is that?" Rachel sneered. "Sam's!"

"Oh, Rachel, shut up," Brittany snapped. "Most of the time, it's you. I still feel uneasy every time I see a yacht."

"Let's just get out of here," Santana pleaded. But, it was too late. She saw the flash and recognized the mohawk just a split second later. Puck had already snapped a dozen photos of Brittany trying to pull Rachel back from hitting Sam with her shoe while he was clutching Kurt's arm. "This won't be cheap," she said to one of the bystanders.