Day 07: Free Day

this hope is treacherous, and I like it

When it happens, it surprises Santana.

Santana isn't looking for a way to change her life. In fact, she's pretty happy, as far as it goes - she lives in New York with Quinn, and they're doing the kind of grown up things that still, sometimes, feel like they should be happening to someone else. They bought a loft together about a year ago, and sometimes when Santana remembers that, it makes her feel strange. When did this happen? When did they stop being college kids living on ramen noodles and delivery Chinese food and become full-fledged, responsible adults? Homeowners, even?

Sometimes it jolts her when she sees Quinn, all dressed up in her professional pantsuits, on the way out to her job as a publicist. Santana remembers Quinn in red and white, in skirts, in a wheelchair. Sometimes she thinks that this person is no different – it's the same Quinn Santana has known for most of her life – but then, on some mornings.. when Quinn drinks coffee distractedly, while tapping on her iPhone and flipping through file folders, it makes Santana dizzy to realize that—Quinn isn't that gangly teenager anymore. Quinn is a woman.

It's even worse when she realizes that she's a woman. An adult. A bonafide grown up. Yikes.

Santana has had a less stable job history over the course of her life than Quinn, but Quinn tolerates it with a kind of wry amusement that Santana appreciates. Right now, Santana is what is called a life coach – crazy, right? – and she's actually pretty good at it. New York is full of yuppies who actually kinda dig Santana's cut-the-crap attitude. Most of the others in Santana's line of work are wishy-washy coddlers who tell people everything is going to be okay. Santana doesn't operate like that; she's vicious and honest, and she kicks people into gear.

It's something she's been doing her whole life – who knew she could make such a killing doing it?

So, honestly, her life is going great. Santana is happy. She enjoys every single day as much as she possibly can – even mornings when she has to deal with spoiled forty-somethings with too much money and not enough gumption. Sometimes Santana genuinely gets to help people, and that's great. Quinn finds things for them to do as a young couple in the city – they go dancing, they joined a book club, they ride bikes in the summer and ice skate in the winter. They visit Lima around the holidays and take a vacation once a year. Last time, it was Quinn's turn to pick, and they spent ten days in New Orleans. This year, Santana wants to go somewhere overseas – she thinks maybe Greece or Australia.

Why in the world does she want to go and change things with a baby?

Santana doesn't like kids. She can barely tolerate all the babies her cousins keep having, the ones that show up every Christmas and at all of the family reunions. She has never expressed even the slightest interest in having a baby – yet, the urge to have one seems to have happened to her all at once. She woke up one day and the desire to have a baby was so strong it was almost like a physical ache, deep in her chest, niggling through her body, making her palms itch.

Now Santana has it – baby fever. She has it bad. When she helps mommies in sweatpants learn how to dress themselves again and how to function like a normal adult, she actually looks at their little brats and wants to hold them and stuff. She wants to clean up their snotty noses and play Legos and tea party. She even thinks they're cute, sorta.

It gets progressively worse when Rachel gets pregnant.

They kept in touch with some of the kids they went to high school with – Rachel, Kurt, Brittany. The ones they were closest to. Santana lived with Rachel and Kurt for a couple of years, and the four of them all still live in the city, so sometimes they get cocktails or go see a play together. Rachel met some real strange guy working for a Broadway magazine, and now she's knocked up.

She's dealing with it. Santana thinks it's kind of hippie and New Age-y of her to want to raise it without the man involved, but power to her and all that. If anyone would be able to do that kind of thing, and do it well, it's Rachel.

But as the months go by, and Rachel gets fat and plump and she talks about baby names and baby clothes, the ache inside of Santana intensifies.

One night, she pulls down the comforter and slides into bed. Quinn sits down a moment later, rubbing her hands together to work the moisturizer into her skin. Santana doesn't know why she decides to do it now – but she looks over at Quinn and blurts out, "I want to have a baby."

Quinn turns, slowly, and regards her. Quinn's hair is long and darker, now, than it was when they were kids; somewhere around age twenty-five she quit dying it. It makes her look more distinguished, Santana thinks, though sometimes she misses Quinn's lighter hair.

"Do you mean, like, borrow one?" Quinn's eyebrows pinch together. "Is your cousin Marsela pregnant again?"

Santana lets out a short laugh. "No. I mean, I want to have a baby, Quinn."

Quinn's eyebrows shoot upwards. Santana's fingers grip the bedspread nervously, worrying the material between her fingers. The silence hangs between them, thick and heavy, for a very long moment.

"You want to have a baby?" Quinn asks it again, as if she can't believe it.

"I want us to have a baby." Santana clarifies. Her heart is thudding dully in her chest – she doesn't know she she's so nervous, all of the sudden.

Quinn's face freezes, for an instant, before she frowns. "You do?"

"Yes!" Santana can't help the way nerves make her voice tremble. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

"It's just.." Quinn runs a hand through her hair. "I never expected – you never said anything about it before."

Santana shrugs. "I guess I never thought about it or anything."

Quinn nods, slowly, thoughtfully.

Another silence hangs between them – and Santana studies the side of Quinn's face, trying to discern her thoughts. She's getting nothing. Quinn always was good at that – keeping herself under wraps. It's also always driven Santana crazy.

"So.. is that a problem?" Santana asks.

Quinn blinks. "No. I just –" She shakes her head. "I thought – I don't know. I thought it would be me asking you to have kids. It's taking me a second to adjust."

Slowly, a grin spreads over Santana's face. "But we can?"

"What?"

"Can we have a baby?"

Quinn laughs. "I kind of thought we'd get married first. But, yes. Yes, I want to have a baby with you, Santana."

Santana feels warmth spread from the center of her chest and radiate outwards, down the length of her arms and up to her face. Still grinning, she pulls Quinn's hand up to her face. Her skin smells like lavender lotion, and it's a little damp, but Santana kisses Quinn's knuckles anyway.

"I'm kinda glad I got stuck with you, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn laughs quietly, and rubs her thumb over Santana's fingers. "I'm kinda glad, too."

After a moment, another thought dawns on Santana. "Did you say – marriage? You want to get married?"

Quinn nods. "Yeah. Don't you?"

Santana chuckles. "You're gonna have to do better than that if you want me to marry you, Quinn Fabray."

Quinn grins. "I had planned to. But you caught me off guard with all of this baby talk."

Amused, Santana leans over to kiss Quinn on the cheek. "You'll have to make it up to me, somehow."

"Oh, is that so?" Quinn's eyebrow quirks. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Well, for starters –" Santana tugs on the collar of Quinn's pajama shirt.

Quinn laughs, rolling her eyes. "I should have guessed."

"Get naked, Fabray," Santana says, and simultaneously starts edging Quinn's shirt upwards.

"I want a ring, too, you know," Quinn says, allowing Santana to peel her clothes off. "White gold band. Propose somewhere scenic, like the Brooklyn Bridge."

"Are you serious?" Santana sounds incredulous. "Are you really telling me how you want to be proposed to, right now?"

"Make sure the diamond is sizable, but not tacky," Quinn continues, ignoring Santana's scowl. "I want flowers, too."

"You're unbelievable," Santana says, straddling Quinn.

Quinn smiles up at her. "Thanks."

Shaking her head, Santana laughs. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"You've got the rest of your life to figure it out," Quinn tells her, and her smile softens. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Santana presses her lips against Quinn's softly. "So much."

"Let's make a baby," Quinn says, grinning.

Santana chuckles, nuzzling her face into Quinn's neck. "We can try."

A/N: Sorry this one was kinda short, guys. I ran out of time.

I really enjoyed writing for Quinntana week, and I hope everyone else enjoyed reading it! I want to thank you for your continued readership and support. It means a lot to me.