"I'm very patient," Brittany said sternly as she poised herself for a standoff of the stare down variety. She was in the middle of yet another epic battle of endurance. It seemed like she'd been having this same argument every single day for the last few weeks. She crossed her arms over her chest resolutely, waiting for her opponent's next move.

She winced when it came in the form of a shout, "Nooo!"

Brittany rubbed her temples in frustration. "You have to," she said with authority while holding up a t-shirt with a green dinosaur. "It's a T-Rex!"

And yes, it did cross her mind for a split second that she never in her life thought she'd be shouting that as an arguing point.

The pair of brown eyes that were staring into hers belonged to one of the most stubborn people she'd ever met. A trait that undoubtedly came from his other mother. The little boy shook his head vigorously at the suggestion and said with all the conviction a three year old could muster, "No di-sore!"

"Max," Brittany placed a hand on her hip. "You have to wear clothes, buddy."

"No di-sore, Mommy," he told her again. "I don't like him."

Max's new aversion to fabrics was driving her insane. It had been going on for a few weeks now, and it made getting him ready to go anywhere take double the time it normally would. As soon as Brittany turned her back, he would shed his clothes. Brittany knew the getting naked thing was probably a trait he picked up from her, but he was every bit as sneaky as Santana.

Speaking of, Brittany glimpsed her wife just as she arrived at the doorway of Max's room. With one look at the two of them, Santana knew what was up. She asked her son anyway, "So, what's all this about?"

"Same thing as usual," Brittany answered for him.

"The streaker?"

"Yep."

"What's wrong with your dinosaur shirt, Mad Max?" Santana asked. "You love T-Rex."

Now, he was in a pickle. See, his Mommy was all bubbles and sunshine, but his Momma was not nearly as easy. Especially not lately. No, Momma would make him put on that dinosaur shirt.

"We're not running a nudist colony here," Santana said. "This is not a clothing optional establishment."

When Brittany shot her a quick smirk, she quickly amended the statement. "This part of the house is not a clothing optional establishment."

Max, of course, was not moved. In fact, he didn't budge at all.

"Max," Santana said with her mom glare.

"No di-sore," he said weakly, knowing the game was almost up. He looked up at Santana through his dark lashes, hoping his sad puppy dog eyes would grant him a pardon.

"Okay," the brunette shrugged. "You want to spice up your wardrobe, I get it. What other options do we have, Mommy?"

Brittany reached blindly back into a drawer and pulled out another t-shirt. She took a look at it, "You want to wear the Littlest Jets Fan shirt?"

Max looked like he could be open to the idea.

"I think that's a great choice," Santana encouraged. "Shows your support, gives you some New York mystique, plus it's a great conversation starter for all the other rugrats."

"Don't say rugrats," Brittany whisper yelled. "He'll repeat that then we'll have parents calling us..."

"I call 'em like I see 'em," Santana responded. "What do you say, Max? Go Jets Go?"

He was teetering on the edge when Santana sweetened the deal. "Put on the shirt and you can have a cookie."

With the mention of a cookie, the boy's defiance melted away, "'K."

"Santana," Brittany huffed.

"What?" the brunette answered. "Problem solved. You wanted clothes on the kid. He wanted a cookie. I want some peace. Everybody wins."

"You can't bribe him with a cookie every time you want him to do something," Brittany said as she pulled the Jets shirt over Max's head.

He emerged with a huge smile on his face. As soon as his arms shot through the sleeves, he looked up to his other mom. "Chockit Chip!"

"Of course," Santana answered him and placed her hand on his head to steer him out of the room. "I know that," she said to her wife. "But I'll adapt as he gets older. I'm fully prepared to hand over gaming consoles, and expensive sneakers, and...and...bottle rockets."

"Who said anything about bottle rockets?"

"I have no idea what boys are into," Santana said.

"We're not giving him bottle rockets," Brittany told her without any room for negotiating. "And I meant the bribing, not the cookie."

Santana scoffed, "Well now you're just questioning my entire parenting philosophy."

After just a few steps down the hallway, Santana stopped abruptly and leaned against a nearby wall. She took a deep breath before ruffling her son's hair and telling him, "Alright, Max, go ahead. I'll be there in just a minute."

Brittany took an immediate step toward her that Santana waved off. The blonde gave her wife a questioning look. "You okay?"

"Fine," she answered in a tone that sounded anything but fine.

Brittany followed her eyes to Max, who was looking on curiously.

"Okay, Maximus," Brittany scooped up their son and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Better go claim your seat."

They both watched him run off toward the kitchen, no doubt climbing up in his chair to wait patiently for his treat. Okay, more like using Prince Rufferford, the family Golden Retriever, as a step stool to get it himself. That dog could be charged as an accomplice to many cookie thefts as of late. The thought crossed Santana's mind just as Max was rounding the corner.

"Ruffles is not a ladder!"

"Is it time?" Brittany asked impatiently. "Should we go?"

"No, no."

"Is something wrong?" Brittany was starting to get concerned. "Do you need help?"

"I'm really fine," Santana countered as she rubbed her belly. "I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

"Are you sure?"

"Britt, I'm not in labor," Santana chuckled a bit. "I just needed to take a break. My feet are killing me."

Brittany visibly relaxed, "Okay."

"I feel like a beached whale," Santana pointed her big belly, " and this one must be a dancer like her mommy, because BayLo's going crazy in there today."

The corners of Brittany's mouth immediately curled upwards as she put her hands on Santana's stomach. "You think?"

Santana watched her wife's face light up with the possibility, "Yeah." When Brittany looked at her, she winked.

"That would be cool," the blonde said. "I mean, if that's what she wanted."

"No pressure," Santana spoke to her stomach. "You can be whatever you want."

"Absolutely!" Brittany agreed. "But if you want to dance, I can totally arrange that."

"You are going to be so amazing with our daughter," Santana replied dreamily. "You're such an awesome mom, Britt."

"We're both kinda awesome."

"We are," Santana said as she pushed off the wall. "Moms of the Year. I wonder if we could get Max to introduce us like that."

"I'm sure we could," Brittany said. She helped Santana get steady. "Just give him a cookie and he's putty in our hands."

After the eye-rolling and loud sigh, Santana finally continued toward the kitchen. "I kind of hate you right now. I mean, I love you...but also hate you a little."

"And why is that?" Brittany asked taking Santana's elbow.

"Tell me how it is that you got through this bouncing around like Baby Carrying Barbie? You were like fu-uh," Santana paused and took a quick look around to check for little ears, "freaking knocked up Cinderella and I feel like you could literally roll me room to room?"

"Honey-" Brittany started.

"Seriously, just butter me, I'll slide right through all the doors."

"San-"

"I'm like a blimp. A guy on the street made beeping noises at me last week. Somebody asked me yesterday if I was having multiples," Santana claimed dramatically. "I told them I was having multiple orgasms with their mom."

"You didn't!"

"Yeah I did...but the lady was like 80, so the chances of her mom even still kicking is slim to none."

"I'm sorry," Brittany said sincerely as she rubbed her wife's back. Her hand trailed down Santana's arm and eventually tangled with her pinky. "I think you look amazing hauling around our daughter."

"U-Haulin'."

"Beautiful," Brittany insisted.

"You have to say that," Santana said. "It's like a law. You have to say I look beautiful pregnant or you're just the worst wife ever."

"I believe it."

"I'm suspicious," the brunette gave her the side-eye.

Brittany ignored it, "You are easily the hottest pregnant chick I've ever seen. Hotter than...let's just leave it at that. The smokingest oven ever."

When they entered the kitchen, Max was waiting at the table. Santana looked around for any evidence of foul play.

"So chocolate chip, right?" she asked.

"Pweeeeze!" Max said with a toothy grin. His little feet were swinging in anticipation. Of course, they were swinging right into Ruffles, his loyal companion, who was parked right under the chair.

Santana went directly to the cookie jar and pulled out two cookies. She took one to Max, but just before handing it off, she bent down. "Kiss first," she demanded.

The boy gave her a sloppy smooch on her cheek before happily accepting his goodie. The second one she offered to Brittany with the same deal.

"Okay," Santana said as she uncomfortably plopped into her chair at the kitchen table, "since we're all here-"

"Lola!" Brittany said before she even got the chance to finish.

"Nooo," Santana shot her down. "For the millionth time, we're not naming her Lola."

"I'm still very pro-Lola."

"I understand that, but-"

"San," Brittany swallowed a bite of her cookie, "what do you have against Lola?"

"Lola Lopez?"

"And?"

"Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl," Santana said. "That should be enough."

"I think it's cute."

"I think we'd be setting her up for the -," Santana lowered her voice purposely, "p. o. r. n. industry."

"Max," Brittany tapped on his arm, "do you like Lola?"

Max nodded yes.

"Max," Santana addressed him, "do you think we should name the baby Chorophobia?"

Max took another cookie bite and wiped his mouth with his arm. It left a little chocolate smear, that he promptly licked. He looked at his momma and gave her an earnest nod to this suggestion also.

"There you have it," Santana said. "Our son is a baby-naming genius."

"You got Max," Brittany said. "You said I got to name the next one."

"We both named Max." Santana leaned over and pinched off just a bit of cookie. "His middle name is Everett, just like you wanted."

"After the mountain," Brittany smiled.

"Yep," Santana didn't have the heart to tell her any different and she threatened to kill anyone who might. "And who named Ruffles?"

"Ruffles doesn't count," Brittany argued.

"He's a certified member of this family, Britt," Santana stated. "And honestly, I didn't think there would be a next one when I made that deal."

"But you did," Brittany argued. "And I like Lola. You already vetoed Baby."

"Brittany, we cannot have a child named Baby. It's adorable while's she in there, but there's no way I could put Baby in the corner and keep a straight face."

"But...BayLo."

A loud purr cut off the conversation when Lord Tubbington saw the family eating without him. After years of slimming down, his diet had been all but abandoned when Santana started to put on the baby weight. He was slowly, but surely, replumping to his former massive splendor. Brittany swore it was because he was gaining sympathy pounds. Santana knew it was because Brittany was slipping him extra kibble.

Santana started to wiggle to the front of her seat with the intention of getting him a kitty treat.

"What are you doing?" Brittany asked as she shot up to go help.

"Indulging him," Santana answered. "He'll be back on his portion controlled routine soon enough."

"You stay put, I'll get it."

"Okay," Santana agreed easily. As Brittany turned away to go grab the treat, she reached across and pinched off some more of the cookie she had left on the table. She looked at Max with her finger to her lips.

He laughed at his momma's antics. He always did.

"What's so funny over there?" Brittany asked returning from the cabinet. She threw Lord Tubbington his treat, but warned him. "Enjoy it Tubbs, there's very few left where that came from."

Tubbs seemed to get the hint and gave them all a disgusted meow preemptively before taking off with his chewy salmon flavored bite.

"We're not doing anything," Santana promised.

"Uh huh," Brittany didn't buy it. She walked back over the table, pausing to give Max a kiss on the top of his head. "So, let's hear your suggestion then?"

"Max's? Or mine?" Santana pointed to herself. "Because Max wants Tywunosore...wait, that was yesterday. Do we still not like T-Rex?"

"Tywunosore Wex," it seems he had made peace with his nemesis from fifteen minutes ago.

"See," Santana gestured toward the boy with her head. "Baby-naming genius. I, personally, think we should call her Wex."

"Not even here yet and you're already trying to figure out ways to torture her for life," Brittany said to Max. "You're going to be really good at this big brother stuff."

"He'll be a pro," Santana agreed. "He has the shirt and everything."

"If only we can get it stay on his body for more than two seconds."

"C.o.o.k.i.e."

#####

"Okay," Brittany was running through the mental checklist in her head. "We have everything we need?"

Santana was watching Brittany run through the checklist while leaning against the front door, one hand on her belly. "I think we're set."

"Alright, Maximus," Brittany picked up the little boy and his Tonka truck. "Ready to hang out with Manny for a little while?"

"Uh huh," he agreed easily. He was way more interested in driving his truck over his Mommy's boobs than whatever else was happening anyway.

"Did you call him?" Santana asked Brittany as she waddled to put the security code in.

"Yeah," Brittany answered. "He's meeting us at the park."

"Good."

"I also told him to come by sometime this week."

Santana looked over to her wife with her nose scrunched in question, "Why? We don't need him this week."

"Because we need to discuss his pay raise."

"Oh," Santana rolled her eyes.

"San," Brittany caught it. "Two kids. More money."

"I don't see why we need to discuss it immediately," Santana said. "Can't we talk about it later?"

"I'd rather have it set before she gets here." The blonde pointed with her free hand to Santana's pregnant stomach with the reference. "Have it squared away and all."

"Maybe I won't want to go back to work, though," Santana uttered quietly. "Maybe I'll just stay at home with the kids. Be your housewifey. Cook your dinner. Iron your clothes."

"Have you ever ironed anything?" Brittany asked.

"Do we own an iron?" Santana wondered aloud. "I have steamers for that."

"It would be kind of..." Brittany looked at Max who was preoccupied with running his truck over her shoulder with a 'voom', "s.e.x.y."

"For all of two weeks," Santana responded, not really believing that.

Brittany gave her wife the familiar up and down, "Oh, I think I could get used to you waiting for me by the door...with dinner...and shirts that have a huge iron-shaped burn on them...oh yeah."

Even after being married for nearly five years, Santana still got a little flustered by her wife sometimes. "Stop staring at me. I can't remember the alarm code."

"Two. Eight. Five. Nine," Brittany recited. She took a look at her watch, "Come on housewifey, we have an appointment to make."

"What do you think?" Santana asked as she punched in the numbers.

"About what?"

"I'm really asking," the brunette said. "Me. Here. With the kids."

"I think...that's..."

"What?" Santana asked.

"Where is this coming from?" Brittany avoided that question. She readjusted Max and let Santana pass out the front door. "You've never mentioned wanting to stay home before."

"I never really thought about it until recently," Santana disclosed.

"Well..." The blonde hopped down the front steps quickly and placed Max on his feet. "Statue, buddy." She then climbed them again two at a time, so she could help her wife. "I guess if you wanted to-"

"It's just that," Santana took each step carefully. "With you working so much now-"

"After this campaign, it will slow back down," Brittany interjected.

"I know, I know, but then something else will pop up."

"Doesn't mean I have to be as involved."

Santana caught her eyes as they reached the sidewalk. "But you will be, because you're the best. And you love it."

"I love you and Max," Brittany said convincingly. "And Baby Lopez in there. I'm going to do whatever is best for my family, Santana."

"I just..."

"Don't want our kids to be raised by Manny the manny because we work all the time," the blonde finished. "I know."

"Yeah," Santana nodded.

"Yeah?"

Brittany took her wife's face in her hands and brought her closer for a kiss, "We'll figure it out," she whispered. "Un-statue, Max," she said to the little guy.

After she ran back up the steps to grab their bags and Max's backpack, she stopped to enjoy the visual of Santana waddling to the car clutching their son's little hand in hers. They were obviously discussing something hilarious as Santana laughed loudly and Max skipped a little in happiness. She seriously had the most gorgeous family in the world.

"Wait for me," she yelled to them before jogging to catch up.

#####

"Kendra Giardi." A nurse in pink scrubs called. "Come on back," she motioned for the way less pregnant woman that answered to the name.

Santana watched her for a second, "Do we know her?"

A glance is all it took for Brittany to decide, "Nope."

"Hm."

"Did I tell you about the dream I had last night?"

"No," Santana flipped another page in her Procreating Like Boss magazine. "Another wild sex dream about yours truly?"

"Not this time," Brittany answered from her Parenting for Dummies book.

"Whoa!" Santana snapped up from her reading material. "You're not dreaming about," she motioned her belly with two hands, "all this."

"Is this a trick question? Because last time you asked a question like this, it ended with my toothbrush in the toilet."

"And I've apologized for that particularly hormonal day several times, Britt Britt," Santana said calmly. "At some point, you have to move on from that incident."

"Can I just tell you about my dream?"

Santana mulled it over, "Yeah."

"Okay, apparently we were stuck in some weird alternate universe where you were in New York with Rachel and Kurt and I'm still here..."

"So, before we met?"

"No, we were together," Brittany paused to think, "then kinda broke up...I guess. But, it was confusing because we kept breaking up...over and over again...only in different clothes. One of those times seemed suspiciously like the 50s."

"That's odd."

"The break ups or the time period? I'm sure it was the 50s, I've been watching The History Channel."

"All of it," Santana chuckled. "But c'mon, Britt. Like we would ever break up. Why would that even happen?"

"I know, right?" Brittany laughed. "It was just strange. And vivid. You turned into some crazy coke head who was rifling through drawers to find money for drugs and I was eating garbage off the floor and had all these delusional theories about the world ending."

"I am pretty great at snoo- uh...investigating, and you did eat that grape that slipped out of your hand last night."

"You saw that?"

"Three second rule."

"I washed it."

"I'm not judging you."

"It was the last one."

"I'd say we have enough of an explanation for the dream."

"Yeah, but," the blonde stopped and snorted. "I'm pretty sure I had some kind of relationship with Sam."

This made Santana do a full blown belly laugh. A couple of the other couples in the waiting room even turned to look. "Sam?!" Santana asked.

"I knew you'd enjoy that," Brittany returned to her book.

"You and Sam, huh?" Santana shook her head. "I think the only word that properly describes that is 'squick.'"

"Accurate."

"Besides," Santana winked. "That dopey moron could never land you."

"Aww," Brittany wrapped her pinky around Santana's. "That's sweet."

Santana flipped another page before looking over in Britt's direction again. "I'm sweet...sometimes."

"You can be," Brittany said.

"Santana Lopez?" Another pink scrubbed nurse called out.

After an hour and all the usual testing, poking, and prodding, Santana and Brittany were enjoying the sweet sounds of their daughter's heartbeat.

"She sounds like a dancer," Brittany announced.

Dr. Tibideaux looked at her out of the corner of her eye.

"And you can tell just by her heartbeat?" Santana chuckled.

"Yep. Everything's normal, right?" Brittany asked Dr. Tibideaux.

"Everything looks great," the obstetrician assured them both. "She looks normal and healthy. Right on track for delivery."

"And it's springtime," Brittany winked at Santana. "No better time to give birth."

"I like her," Santana said absent-mindedly on their way across the parking lot. "Dr. Tibideaux."

Brittany smirked, "Of course, you do."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What?" Santana said with an irksome quality. "I can't like her? She's the only other lady that's allowed in my No No Square."

"Don't start with that again," Brittany said with a wave of her finger. "And if you don't stop trying to teach Max that song-"

"That's for his own good."

"There's more delicate ways to handle that."

"Fine, I'll stop," Santana gave in. She shuffled a bit further before asking, "So, are you going to clue me in?"

"Dr. Tibideaux is a lesbian, Santana." Upon reaching their car, Brittany opened the door for her wife. "That's why you like her."

Santana's eyebrows furrowed, "What?"

"Total lezzie," Brittany said with conviction. He held onto Santana's arms, while the other lady sort of fell backward into the seat.

"Nuh uh."

Brittany helped her swing her legs in, "Oh my god, honey. She's gayer than a flagpole." When Santana looked confused, she added, "At half-mast. Duh."

#####

A little while later, after collecting Max from Manny the manny, the Pierce/Lopez family was turning into their driveway. Brittany was a bit surprised when she recognized a familiar car parked in her spot. "James is early," she said to Santana.

"Yeah..." Santana acknowledged, already looking concerned.

Brittany's little sister, Jamie, was already to their car before Brittany had shut off the engine.

"Well, if it isn't Skipper," Santana greeted her.

"Diabla," Jamie shot back. "Is that a pitchfork in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

"Hey," Brittany said, trying to head off the usual round of barbs. "We weren't expecting you yet."

"Yeah," Jamie answered as she opened the back door and started to unbuckle Max. "Who's this handsome guy?" she said to the smiling kid.

"It's me, Max!" he squealed at the sight of one of his favorite people.

"Well, hi me-Max."

"Hi Anny Jamie!"

Jamie immediately put him up on her shoulders and bounced a couple times.

"Careful!" both Brittany and Santana said at the same time.

"Geez, Moms, he's fine," Jamie groaned, but she pulled the boy off her shoulders anyway. She ran her knuckles over his head and told him, "They'd put you in bubblewrap if they could find corresponding accessories."

Max wasn't paying any attention, though. It was of much more importance to make sure he got his Tonka truck out of the car. He really hated when his toys got trapped in the car for the night.

"So?" Santana asked. "What do we owe the pleasure of your early arrival?"

Jamie bypassed the question when she got a good look at her pregnant sister-in-law, "Damn! You blew up in the last few weeks, didn't you? Is there just one in there or did they Octomom you?"

"James!" Brittany warned.

"I'm not saying it's bad," Jamie quickly backtracked. "You look great."

Santana just glared.

"Really," Jamie went on. "I can practically feel your glow. Or is that the heat from the hellfires?"

"Why are you here?" Santana asked bluntly.

"You asked me to be here," Jamie reminded them.

"Now, Jamie? Why are you here now?"

Jamie scratched at her face, "Well..."

Brittany and Santana exchanged looks.

"Well?" Brittany asked.

"I know you said you didn't want this time to be like last time."

"Which is why we were very adamant about having just you here until the baby was settled in," Santana said. "Though looking back on that decision..."

"Yeee-ahhh..."

"What did you do?" Brittany asked.

"I didn't do anything!" Jamie insisted. "But Mom and Dad weren't exactly down with missing it after I mentioned that I was coming."

"So your parents will be here," Santana said to Brittany. "Okay."

"Then they sort of..." Jamie took a step back, "called your parents."

"Okay..." Santana let out a breath. Brittany eased ever so subtly in between them.

"And...well...emails were exchanged and..." Jamie took another step backward. "It seemed the quickest and easiest way to get everybody here was for Rachel to fly them over on her jet."

Santana's eyes snapped to Jamie's.

"So, Mom and Dad...and your parents... and Abuela...and," Jamie grabbed Max for protection, "Rachel and Kurt will be here tomorrow."

"Imma kill you."

#####

"She's not really going to kill me, is she?" Jamie asked Brittany as the two sisters lay in the floor of Max's room staring at the stars that Brittany had strategically placed to resemble different constellations.

"Of course not," Brittany brought her Pringles telescope away from her eye just enough to turn her head. "You know by now that she's all bark, very little bite."

"I don't know, she had a fire in her eyes that I've rarely seen before."

"It's just baby stress, James," Brittany assured. "She's not going to actually kill you."

Max, who was between them, also pulled his Pringles telescope away, "Anny Jamie, you can use Momma's tellscope."

"That's a great idea, buddy," Brittany said to him. "Can you go get it?"

"Uh huh," he said handing off his own to his Mommy. "BRB."

When Max scurried over to his toy chest, Jamie asked, "BRB?"

"Be right back."

"Yeah, I know what it means," Jamie said. "Why do you have your kid saying it?"

"Because that's what Santana says to him when she leaves for work," Brittany laughed. "And he also thinks BYOB is bring your own banana. Don't tell him any different."

"Gotcha."

The little boy returned in no time with another Pringles telescope, this one red. "Here you go."

"Thanks Max," Jamie said to him.

"R'welcome."

"Manners," Jamie replied. "You have them."

"Yeah, and if you like that, you should check this out." Brittany was always ready to show off her kid's superior intelligence. "Max," she pointed to a particular group of stars, "What's that one?"

"Big dippy," he answered immediately.

"And that one?"

"Lil dippy."

"Wow," Jamie was impressed. "Good job, Max."

"Yep," Brittany nudged him softly. "Great job, buddy. Now Aunt Jamie wants to hear you count to 20."

Max, eager to show off his counting skills, started right up. "Oon, Two, Tree..."

"Baby stress?" Jamie inquired.

"She's nervous about the actual birthing process," Brittany answered.

"Like the baby's health?"

"More like the baby's going to hunker down and refuse to leave her womb."

"Like a 'Heck no, I won't leave this uterus,' sort of thing?"

"Exactly," Brittany answered. "And apparently she's thinking about being a stay at home mom."

Jamie sat up, "What?!"

"She just mentioned it today," the older blonde said without much urgency.

"And what do you think about that?"

"I don't know," Brittany said. "We haven't really talked about it yet, but...I'll support whatever she wants to do."

"Eweven, Tirteen, Fourteen-"

"Twelve, Max," Brittany said to her son.

"Eweven, Telve, Tirteen..."

"Excellent," Brittany gave him a thumbs up that he could see through his telescope.

"That just seems...so unlike Santana," Jamie continued the conversation.

"I can see it," Brittany shrugged. "I think she's worried about how much we'll both be away from them...with my workload-"

"That reminds me," Jamie interrupted. "I saw the 'Snot Clouds, It's Kleenex' commercial before I left Portland today. You're a genius, Britty."

"Thanks," Brittany accepted the compliment with a grin. It had taken a while for her sister to stop being aggravated by her success. "How's Jake?"

"Fine," Jamie answered. "He sends his congratulations, but he's still scared shi- uh...sugarless of Santana."

"That's understandable after the incident last Fourth of July."

"...Niteen, Tenty."

"Alright!" Brittany clapped when Max finished. "Let's put the telescopes away and hop into bed."

When the youngster climbed up on his bed, Jamie called, "Hey, Max, aren't you going to put on some pajamas?"

"NO!" he yelled.

Brittany gave her a glare that meant 'shut the hell up.'

"Ooo-kay."

"We'll just put another blanket on your bed," Brittany suggested.

"Cookie Moster?"

"Yeah," Brittany had already reached for it and draped it over her son. "Night Mighty Max."

"Night, Mommy," he said through a yawn, just before he closed his eyes.

She gave him a quick kiss and scratched Ruffles' ear on the way by. The dog regularly made his crash pad the foot of Max's bed.

As soon as they snuck out, Brittany explained, "Clothing in general is a sore subject with him right now. He doesn't like it."

"Like you didn't like it from the ages of 3 to 23."

"Yes," Brittany rolled her eyes at her bratty sister. "A lot like that."

As the two of them walked down the hallway of the house that they grew up, Jamie said suddenly, "I can't believe you're about to have two kids."

"By next week."

"I also can't believe you haven't decided on a name yet."

"We're really cutting it close," Brittany agreed. "She refuses to name her Lola-"

"She was a showgirl, Britt."

"Yeah, well," Brittany huffed, "I still think it's cute."

"I havta agree with Santana on this one."

"Figures." Brittany stopped at the steps that led to the basement. "You should be all set down there. Although, I have no idea where we'll put everybody tomorrow."

"Oh, don't worry about that, it's only me. Rachel has everybody else booked at the Four Seasons," Jamie relayed.

"Ah, that sounds just like Rachel."

"You can thank me for that," the younger Pierce informed her.

"I'll mention that to San while I'm talking her out of whatever she has in store for you."

"You said I didn't have to worry!"

Brittany smirked at her little sister, "I lie, James. You should know that better than anyone."

When Brittany entered her bedroom, she was a bit surprised to see that Santana was still awake.

Her wife, propped up by what looked to be twenty pillows, seemed to be pretty enthralled in whatever book was lying open on her lap. The tiny squint that would usually accompany this scene was gone due to the dark rimmed glasses on her face. Santana's still slightly damp hair fell around her shoulders, and Brittany noticed her toes wiggling underneath the blankets.

"Good shower?" Brittany asked.

"Uh hm," Santana hummed more than answered.

"I'm going to take one myself."

"K."

The blonde paused at the door to the bathroom and turned around. Santana still hadn't looked up from her book.

"Max?" she asked.

"Asleep," Brittany answered.

Five minutes later, the blonde came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel on her head. She felt more than saw Santana's eyes track her all the way across the room. When she turned to face her wife while slipping on a pair of panties, she noticed brown eyes snap back to her book.

"Are you mad?"

"Nope," Santana answered icily.

"Do you want me to call everybody and tell them not to come?"

"Yes."

"San."

"You offered."

"I was kidding."

Santana's eyes cut over to where Brittany was pulling a wifebeater over her torso. She decided to try a slightly different tactic. "I would love you forever if you did that."

"You're already going to love me forever," Brittany said with confidence.

"I really wanted this to be about us," Santana said.

"And it will be."

"Do you even remember last time?"

Brittany exhaled with the memories, "Of course."

"I know they mean well-"

"But they're overwhelming."

"Exactly."

"I promise, I'll make sure it's less whelming," Brittany told her. "Whatever it takes."

"Okay," Santana smiled just a little. She closed the book that she wasn't actually reading at all. "Did you put James in the basement?"

"Yep. If she's not so scared that she escapes to sleep in her car," Brittany said as she turned down the comforter on their bed.

Santana adjusted her glasses and said under her breath, "Maybe she should."

"Technically, it's not her fault, San," Brittany slipped under the sheets and scooted closer to her wife. "And...it's not so bad...just our families...and Kurt an-"

"And Rachel!"

"Well, yeah, and Rachel," Brittany acknowledged. "But hey, there's a bright side."

"Which is?"

The blonde smiled, "BayLo will come into the world surrounded by all the people that love her."

"Don't give me that crap," Santana said. "She's not going to have any idea who those crazy people are."

"Yes, she will." Brittany rested her head head on the edge of one of the pillows. "Just like Max did. He knew everyone instantly."

"Even instinctively cried anytime Rachel tried to hold him."

"He still cries anytime Rachel comes near him," Brittany said.

Santana couldn't help the sudden pride she felt, "That's my boy."

"That was such a great day."

"Yeah, it was," Santana agreed.

"And it didn't matter who was here, or what silly, petty things were going on," Brittany said. "It didn't matter that kind of chaos they caused, because once he was here, we were a family. So yeah, it might get crazy. Rachel may buy another houseboat from a drug smuggler. Kurt might get hit with another turkey leg. Abuela will most likely use your credit card for her online poker addiction. My mom might accidentally roll over Jamie's foot with a car while we're trying to get to the hospital...again...but when this little baby gets here, our family will be even more awesome."

"You're right."

"I know," Brittany pulled the covers just under her neck. "So get some sleep, because the crazies will be here before we know it."