AN: Hello everyone! I am terribly sorry for the long wait. Life got in the way. Thank you for all the supportive messages, and encouragement to continue writing.

Chapter 79

The following morning, tiny bare feet race down the white carpeted hall and stop abruptly at the master bedroom door. Tony is in a bright blue Batman shirt and yellow underwear, his hair slick with so much gel that he looks like a mini-Blaine. He turns the door handle, but it's locked. "Mama, is you up?"

"Gramma said don't wake up them," scolds Ella, her braided pigtails falling neatly against her own Wonder Woman underoos, with a lasso of white kitchen string tucked into her waistband.

"I not." Tony presses his face to the door and stage whispers. "Mami? Is you up? Come play."

Santana stirs, and coughs, wincing when the fumes of scotch from the night before burn her throat. The children are getting louder, rivaling the pounding in her head, and she wishes she could just hit a snooze button and go back to sleep. She rolls over and buries her face in her wife's back, scrunching her nose at the pungent cigarette smoke still clinging to the green Mighty Ducks jersey. Brittany nudges her, "Babe, they want you."

"I'll give you a hundred bucks to go."

"Sleeping."

"Please?"

"Zzzzzz."

"Somebody go so I can get back to sleep."

Santana's eyes snap open. She repositions herself onto her left elbow and peers over her wife to see the other blonde being cuddled. "What are you doing here?" Brittany giggles and snuggles closer to Quinn. Santana gawks at them for a few seconds, and tries to piece together the drunken events of the night before, but comes up blank. Biting her bottom lip, she gingerly lifts the comforter and peeks under it, but Brittany catches her - an amused smile playing on her lips.

"Are you checking to see if we're dressed?"

Santana sheepishly returns the comforter, patting it a few times over her wife's hip. "No."

"Silly."

"Mami? Mama? I hearded you," Tony calls out. "Open the door."

"It's so early," grumbles Santana as she tugs her wife closer and presses a possessive hand against Brittany's stomach.

Brittany smiles affectionately and cranes her neck to place a reassuring kiss to her wife's forehead, and to check the clock on the nightstand behind her. "No wonder they're bugging us. It's 11:30."

"WHAT?" Quinn bolts upright and leaps out of bed, all symptoms of a hangover completely obliterated by the adrenaline coursing through her. She darts around the room, checking under fallen pillows and hurling them back to the floor. "Rachel is coming today! I'm not even ready! Where's my phone?" She turns in a complete circle, searching the room for her missing phone, but doesn't see it anywhere. "Shit!"

"Maaaaaaama, I hearded Mami say the bad word!"

"We'll be out in a minute, honey. Go play with your sister." Brittany turns over and nudges Santana. "Come on, babe, we gotta get up."

"Why does he just assume it's me swearing?" Santana makes no effort to get out of bed. Instead, she sits up and flops back against the headboard. A blinking light on the nightstand catches her eye. Quinn's phone. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she grabs it and shoves it under her leg. "Can't find your phone, huh? Maybe you left it at the bar?"

Santana's teasing tone stops Quinn dead in her tracks. She spins and thrusts out her hand. "Give it."

"I don't have it."

Quinn grunts with disapproval and rushes over to physically retrieve the phone, jerking Santana forward and startling Brittany. "Sorry Britt, she took my phone." She digs around in the blankets, but finds nothing. "Where is it? I know you have it."

"You think you know."

"I need to get ready, Rachel's gonna be here soon. Please just give it to me."

Santana clicks her tongue. "Begging already? I'm disap-"

Quinn seizes Santana's face and sticks out her tongue - threatening to lick something.

"NO no no no no no!" Santana panics, squeezes her eyes shut, and tries desperately to break free from Quinn's grasp.

"Give it to me."

Santana blindly grabs the phone from under her thigh and shoves it at her tormentor. "Bitch." She wipes away the non-existent saliva from her face, then slaps her wife's arm. "I can't believe you told her about that. Like she needed more stuff to use against me?"

Brittany shrugs. "She's our best friend."

Quinn shoves her phone into her purse and yanks the door open. "Thanks B, I'll call you guys later."

As soon as Quinn is out of earshot, Brittany snuggles closer to Santana. "How long before the kids see her leave and come back?"

"30 seconds?"

Brittany's smile grows. "How much trouble can we get into in thirty seconds?"

Santana raises a scolding eyebrow. "You're not off the hook, missy. I can't believe you told her."

"Why? We tell her pretty much everything, don't we?" Santana shrugs defiantly so Brittany kisses the closest thing to her - Santana's arm. "I'm sorry. I didn't know I wasn't supposed to tell her."She juts her bottom lip out, making herself appear very contrite, and offers her extended pinky in apology.

Santana giggles in spite of herself. "Are you serious?"

"Duh, I'm always serious."

Another round of light laughter and Santana links their fingers. "Fine, you're forgiven."

"Finely!" Tony bursts into the room with Ella close behind. "We wanna play."

Santana pulls Ella onto the bed and blows loud raspberry kisses into her neck. "What do you mean finally? We haven't even showered yet."

"Not yet? Why you so slow?" asks Tony.

Ella giggles at the kisses her mother is showering her with, then grabs Santana's face. "You stink."

Santana's eyes widen as she sucks her lips into her mouth and stops breathing, not wanting to exhale any residual scotch on her daughter. Luckily her predicament is interrupted by Mrs. Pierce's announcement of lunch.

"We coming gramma," Tony drops to his butt, bounces, and lands on the carpeted floor with his arms thrown up in victory. "Did you see me Moms?"

"Good job!" Santana pats her daughter's leg. "What about you, El?"

"Watch me!" Ella straightens up and tucks down to tumble, once, twice, and right off the bed!

Santana jerks forward in fright, but Brittany claps loudly as her daughter sticks the landing. "Woooooo! That's my girl!" She gives both her kids a high five and promises to join them soon. After they take off, she does her own backwards somersault off the bed and lands with an exaggerated hop. With hands fisted, arms extended high in the air, and a bright Cheerio smile she winks at her wife and claps loudly. "O-kay! Be aggressive! Be be aggressive!"

Santana jumps onto her knees, hands clapping in the exaggerated manner of their former life. "B-E-A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E aggressive, be be AGGRESSIVE!" Bouncing forward, she reaches the end of the bed to climb off, but gets tackled back to the mattress. "Beeeeee, what are you -?"

Brittany straddles her, nipping and licking any exposed skin she can find. After a few seconds of hysterical thrashing by the brunette, Brittany stops and brushes the hair from Santana's flushed face. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

"You're lucky I love you and let you have your way with me."

"Let me?" Brittany says with an amused brow. "You can't even take Quinn, there's no way you could pin me."

Knowing her wife is right, Santana changes the subject. "I'm surprised you didn't give Quinn a hard time for being excited that Berry is coming in today."

Brittany shrugs and drops down to lay beside her wife, her head rested in her crooked elbow. "What can I do? She and Puck have agreed to see other people, and I've done all I can to warn her about the repercussions."

"Well, I'm proud of you. I know you're still worried." Santana kisses her on the forehead. "Are you looking forward to seeing the Gleeks again?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah, I had fun at Tina's shower."

"That's because you won every game."

"Hey, I can't help it if I'm awesome."

"Awesome? I think the word is cheater." When Santana's mouth drops in indignation, Brittany continues. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna tell anyone."

Santana turns to face her wife and says with seriousness, "I didn't cheat at Tina's shower."

"Prepping for baby shower games is cheating."

Santana's eyes widen at being caught for something she did years earlier, then narrow as she glares towards the doorway her best friend recently exited. "I can't believe she told you about that."

/

"Q! Where are you?" Santana kicks the heavy front door closed and struggles with the box of diapers and many bags. "QUINN! Meet me in the kitchen!" She shuffles through the immaculate house and into the bright kitchen, setting the bags on the island's marble countertop and dropping the box to the polished wooden floor.

"You bellowed?" Quinn enters the kitchen dressed in her usual 1950's manner of perfection - light pink dress, elegant pearl earrings and necklace, and glass of wine in hand. Santana shrugs out of her leather jacket revealing a red fitted low-cut top, and even tighter black jeans. Quinn raises an amused eyebrow. "Did you come from a club?"

Without missing a beat, Santana responds, "Did you come from Beaver's soccer game?" With the obligatory insults out of the way, she returns to the task at hand, reaching into one of the brown paper bags and placing jar after jar of baby food onto the counter. "Open that box on the floor."

Quinn ignores the diapers and joins her crazed friend in the middle of the kitchen. "What the hell is all of this?"

Santana pulls out a brand new yellow notepad and box of number two pencils. "An experiment."

Knowing there's more coming, Quinn doesn't bother asking questions and instead busies herself with washing the wine glass and making coffee. Sure enough, Santana continues. "I refuse to be humiliated at my own baby shower. You and I are going to play every conceivable shower game until I've mastered them all."

"Are you insane?"

"You know our families. They take competitions very seriously. You better believe there will be wagers and someone keeping a book."

"Santana, it's a ba-by shower."

"Did you, or did you not, join the pool on Britt's due date?" asks Santana, now dumping a pile of chocolate out of another bag. Chagrined, Quinn says nothing, so Santana continues. "So what makes you think this will be any different? And with Papa P there? You better believe I wanna win. That man hasn't let us win a game since - EVER."

As the smell of percolating coffee fills the air, Quinn goes to the refrigerator and pulls out chicken and asparagus. "I assume you're staying for dinner?"

"Of course. I told B I'm sleeping here. My clothes are in the car."

"And, I assume you're going to keep hounding me until I agree?"

"Of course."

"Fine."

"Good, okay, I know for sure they'll play the baby food game. I'll make a chart so we can document the smell, color, texture. What else?"

Quinn ties a salmon colored apron around her waist and starts rinsing the chicken. "Emulsion, viscosity."

"What?"

"Emulsion is whether the solution separates or not, the way oil rises to the top of water. And viscosity is the flow, like -" she pauses and pours coffee into a cup. Grabbing a spoon, she stirs the liquid. "See the way the liquid moves? If I were to use the same spoon in a cup of pudding, it wouldn't move the same way."

"Thank God you're a nerd."

Ignoring Santana's comment, Quinn eyes the box on the floor and asks, "Did you bring a doll to practice diapering?"

Santana glares at her friend and unconsciously rubs her ear. "No, I don't have to practice that anymore."

Quinn smirks remembering her recent struggle to teach her best friend the fine art of diapering. "So, what's it for?"

"The chocolate shit game."

"Santana, I told you, you can't refer to it as shit anymore."

"I can until the twins are born." Quinn opens her mouth to argue, but Santana yells out, "I can!" Then softer, she adds, "Britt said so."

Quinn smirks and places the chicken in a broiling pan to season. She opens the pantry and pulls out several spices, taking her time in her selections and imagining the taste combinations in her mouth. When she's satisfied with her choices, she rubs the spices into the chicken. "Are you excited for the shower?"

"No. I still think I should be allowed to go out with the guys."

"And who would that be? You don't have any friends."

"Puck."

"Puck? You still hang out with him?"

"Yes, and no, he isn't coming to the shower."

"I wasn't asking."

"You were." Santana finishes her spreadsheet and lines up the bottles to correspond with the rows. "Ready?"

Quinn scoffs. "I am not participating in this madness. I'll feed you and keep you hydrated, but you're on your own."

"What? No, I need your OCDness."

"That's so inappropriate Santana. I am not an Obsessive Compulsive."

"Please, you just spent an hour picking out spices for the damn chicken. I need you to make sure I'm doing this right and help me stay on track."

"Don't exaggerate. It wasn't an hour. If you're going to be scientific you need to work on your accuracy."

"See? That's why I need you." Santana jumps up and is at Quinn's side in a second, lightly tugging on her arm "Please? I'll owe you. Don't make me look like a fool at my own baby shower."

"Why isn't B helping with this?"

"She doesn't know. She already scolded me for whining about not wanting to go, and said if I even mention the shower again I have to sleep in the guest room for a week."

"You are so whipped." Quinn shrugs out of Santana's grasp and hands her the peeler and asparagus. "Why do you even care? Britt hates these type of games. Which I never understood. You'd think of anyone in the world, she would be the first in line to play."

"She thinks formal functions, in general, are boring. Remember when she fell asleep during Burt and Carol's wedding?"

"Yes, but she liked your wedding."

"Duh, she was marrying me." Santana grabs her own breasts and juts her chest out. "Would you fall asleep with these bodacious beauties in your face?"

"I'm falling asleep now."

Santana laughs and shoves her friend. "Come on, you're gonna help me, right?"

"Fine." Quinn quirks an eyebrow. "But you will owe me."

"Of course."

Quinn rushes into her bathroom to brush her teeth, and almost doesn't recognize herself in the mirror. Her hair is knotted in a messy bun, her eyes bloodshot and surrounded by smeared mascara. "Good grief! I'm surprised Santana didn't give me hell for this." She pulls off her clothes and jumps in the shower. A few minutes later, she emerges and wraps herself in a fluffy rose colored towel. "Better." Returning to the sink to do her hair, she wipes the condensation from the mirror with her bare hand, and nods in satisfaction at her reflection. "Much better." And then, she sees it. A small red bruise near her collarbone. She jerks forward to get a better look. "What the hell? When did I get a hickey?" Her brows slowly knit together as the inevitable question dawns - who did she get the hickey from?

*Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter. Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter. Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my parade.*

"What the heck happened last night?" She mutters as she slides her finger across the screen and lifts the phone to her ear. "Hi Rach."

"Quinn, I'm so glad I caught you. We missed our flight so we'll be in a a few hours later than expected. We'll catch a cab to your place, okay?"

After finalizing the details with Rachel, Quinn ends the call and sits on the edge of her bed in a daze. She looks up at the ceiling to where her best friends room should be, then adamantly shakes her head. "No way. They wouldn't do that." She fingers the area on her collarbone as though she can somehow receive a tactile message from the hickey itself. Distracted by her thoughts, she goes through the motions of getting dressed, until a text from Sam snaps her out of it. "Why am I dilly dallying? I've got a party to plan."

Sam: Hi! I drove in early. Do you need any help today?

Quinn: Sure! That'd be great! Meet at my house in an hour?

Sam: Oki doki. See you soon!

Now that she's back on track, with the mysterious hickey temporarily forgotten, Quinn goes to the living room to pick up her daughter and head out, but Mrs. Pierce stops her. "Honey, I'll watch Kelly. You get ready for your party."

"But, you already watched her last night."

"I don't mind. Leave her and come here." Mrs. Pierce scoots forward to the edge of the couch cushion and waves her honorary daughter over. When Quinn is near enough, she tugs until their knees are touching, and points at the buttonhole the disheveled girl missed. She takes it upon herself to undo the last four buttons and refasten them correctly. "Are you okay?"

Quinn nods. "I guess I'm still a little hungover from last night."

"Mmm, I bet. You girls practically crawled in." Mrs. Pierce pops the last button into place and adjusts the slightly wrinkled skirt. "Will Noah be at your party?"

Quinn's brows knit in thought. "I didn't invite him. Should I have?"

"I was just asking." She squeezes Quinn's hand and pats her side. "I'll keep Kelly and drop her off when you're ready for her. No arguments."

"Thanks Mom." Quinn hugs her and her daughter, then heads to the garage, but changes her mind and beelines upstairs. The radio is playing to an empty room so she knocks on the bathroom door. "It's me."

Santana pulls the door open and stands there wrapped in a towel with her toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. "What's up?"

Quinn wipes away the spittle of minty foam that landed on her cheek. "Was I supposed to invite Puck to the dinner?"

Santana frowns since inviting Puck would be a direct contradiction to her wanting to bed Rachel. "What about Frodo?"

"Rinse your mouth," Quinn demands when more drops of foam fly towards her. "B, what do you think? Should I have invited him?"

Brittany turns off the shower and the girls hear water splatter against the shower curtain and tile. Both glance at each other and shake their head - Santana with an adoring smile, and Quinn with a roll of her eyes - knowing Brittany is whipping her head back and forth like a wet dog drying itself off. A second later, the curtain flies open and she emerges, reaching for her towel. "Isn't he still in school?"

"Yes, but should I still invite him?"

Santana leans against the sink, her arms crossed over her chest. "I ask again, what about Frodo?"

"Stop calling her that," Quinn says with a slap to Santana's arm that is much harder than she intended, and has her wincing at the scolding she knows is coming.

"No violence in my house."

"Sorry Britt."

"And you say I'm whipped?" Santana mimes cracking a whip. "Wuh-pshhh!" She laughs and saunters out of the bathroom and over to the dresser, pulling out underwear and a bra. She steps into the black cotton and snaps the elastic against her waist.

"Friends can't be whipped," Quinn argues as she flops down onto the bed.

Santana grabs her lotion and lifts one foot to rest on the mattress, her lips still curled in amusement at how quickly Quinn always apologizes to Brittany. She squirts the pale white liquid into her palm and rubs her hands together before sliding them against her bare leg, the scent of coconut filling the air."Do you want Puck there?"

Quinn groans and falls backwards onto the bed. "I don't not want him there, but what about Rachel?"

"So, if Puck is there you won't sleep with the Troll?"

"How can I? I'd feel guilty."

"Then why do it at all?"

"IF he's there," Quinn enunciates exasperatedly.

"What if he finds out?"

Quinn jerks upright. "How would he find out?"

"Gollum tells -" Santana jerks out of reach when Quinn's hand flies toward her, then continues unfazed, "Blaine, he tells Kurt, he tells Sam, Sam tells Puck."

"That wouldn't happen. Rachel won't tell anyone."

"Are you kidding? There is no way Rachel is going to keep this a secret. In fact, she'll probably tell Finn, and he'll tell Puck." Santana drops down beside her unblinking friend. "Did you really think this monumentous event would happen and no one would find out?"

"Momentous, not monumentous, and no, it isn't a huge deal. It's practically nothing."

"What do you mean it's nothing?"

Quinn spins to face Brittany who has a towel twisted like a turban on her head. How someone can be naked yet still be imposing, Quinn will never understand. "You know I don't mean nothing."

Brittany pulls on her underwear and a tight black tank top, forgoing a bra. With arms akimbo, she asks, "What do you mean then?"

"I mean it's something that will only be between the two of us."

"Quinn, every couple in the history of Glee club has made a huge declaration of their coupledom. If you and Rachel are any where close to happening, you can guarantee she will find a way to sing about it."

As if on cue, Give Your Heart a Break starts on the radio. Santana grabs the lotion bottle and waggles her eyebrows at her best friend, and does her best Rachel Berry impersonation.

"The day I first met you

You told me you'd never fall in love

But now that I get you

I know fear is what it really was

Brittany takes over, "Now here we are,

So close yet so far.

Haven't I passed the test?

When will you realize,

Baby, I'm not like the rest?

Santana harmonizes, "Don't wanna break your heart

Wanna give your heart a break

I know you're scared it's wrong

Like you might make a mistake."

"There's just one life to live

And there's no time to wait, to wait

So let me give your heart a break, give your heart a break

Let me give your heart a break, your heart a break

There's just so much you can take

Give your heart a break

Let me give your heart a break, your heart a break

Oh yeah, yeah."

Santana pulls Quinn up to dance, and Brittany falls in beside her to complete the Unholy Trinity, but Quinn laughs and breaks away. "Okay, okay, you've made your point." Then seriously, she asks, "Do you really think she'll sing to me? I don't think I can handle that."

"I'd say it's a distinct possibility," says Santana.

From downstairs, Mrs. Pierce sings out, "QuiiIIIiin!"

Quinn looks quickly to Brittany. "Do you really think she'll tell everyone about us?"

Brittany shrugs, but Quinn understands it to mean, "Absolutely."

"I can't face everyone if they think…"

Brittany frowns. "I don't understand. You don't want her singing because you aren't ready for a commitment, or because you're embarrassed people will know you're dating Rachel?"

Quinn doesn't answer at first, but then Brittany crosses her arms over her chest, and Quinn cringes with guilt. "I'm sorry. I know it sounds bad, but it sounds worse than it actually is." Using Mrs. Pierce's summons as an excuse to end the conversation, she calls out, "COMING," and rushes out of the room and down the stairs where a very pregnant Tina is waiting for her. "Hi. What are you doing here?

"This is for you," Tina hands Quinn a bottle of champagne, "and this is for your stuff."

"Boxes?" Quinn asks quietly as Tina waddles past her and straight into her bedroom."What's going on?"

"The glee dinner is at your house, right?"

"Yes."

"This is the perfect opportunity, Quinn. Tomorrow night, after everyone has left, you tell the girls you're too tired to come back here and stay there. One night turns into two, two into three, and pretty soon you just never come back." Tina shuffles over to the bed and scoops up the stack of neatly folded clothes and tosses them into one of the empty boxes. "It's perfect. No one will suspect a thing and you'll be home free." She totters toward Quinn, arms outstretched for a hug. "I'm so excited for you!"

"Tina, I don't -"

"Choosing to have the dinner at your house was such a brilliant move! I can't believe I never thought of it. When I listened to your message I jumped up and down so many times I thought my water was going to break." Embracing her friend again, she continues, "You are ready! My god Quinn, this is it! I am so excited to see how much you will grow once you are out from under Santitany's wing."

"Brittana."

Ignoring the correction, Tina carries on. "This is going to be so great." She leans over the crib rail, her large protruding belly pressing against the wooden slats, but not changing shape in the down, her fingertips scratch against the mattress, but fail to grab the bubblegum pink sheet. "Good grief." She steps back to get a better look at the rail, then kicks her foot out, searching for the release bar. Finally hitting it, the latch opens with a soft click, and she triumphantly pushes the rail down, triggering the mobile to start.

Deep in the hundred acre woods,

where Christopher Robin plays.

You'll find the enchanted neighborhood,

of Christopher's childhood days.

Since the first day Quinn woke to that song, Santana and Brittany have never stopped making her feel welcome. Living here was the best thing that ever happened to her. Was she really ready to give that up?

"I'm sorry, I need to go, " Tina throws her arms around her friend. "Mike's in the car, but I'll see you tomorrow, and we'll celebrate." She squeals with delight, "I'm so excited for you! Okay, I really gotta go. Bye!"

Quinn stares after her and sighs heavily. "I have a bad feeling about this party."

AN: I haven't written in ages, but I am so glad to be back. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Please write a review. :)