This Is The Moment
Santana/Brittany, PG-13, 8.3k
They've been planning and waiting and practicing, but nothing could have ever prepared Santana for this.
They've been planning and waiting and practicing, but nothing could have ever prepared Santana for this.
The last few weeks of Brittany's pregnancy fly by.
One moment Santana's coming home from work, lying her head in Brittany's lap, kissing the swell of her stomach and saying how it's only four weeks until they meet, and then the next she's coming home and Brittany's whispering how it's only two.
Brittany's hormones become worse, but it's nothing to complain about and whether it's the middle of the night or too early in the morning when Brittany's hand slips beneath her top and short nails graze over her abs, Santana awakens with a smile, tells Brittany to roll onto her slide, pushes down her boxers and slides into her slowly, fingers slipping between Brittany's as their hands rest on the swell of her stomach.
But then one night she's woken to the sound of her name being called frantically from Brittany's lips and she knows something's different. It's already a week past the due data and she's sat upright in a split second, turning to face her wife as Brittany presses her hand hard into her stomach and looks up through glossy blue eyes.
"My water broke," Brittany says, panic evident in her voice.
And Santana freezes.
It feels too soon to be now. It feels way too soon and even though there's a duffel bag sitting by the front door already, even though they've both read up on what they need to do and have been to countless Lamaze classes to get ready for this moment, it still doesn't feel like enough.
Santana still forces herself into action, whipping her head around with fatigue still tugging at her mind and jumps off the bed. She moves around their bedroom, grabs some clothes and slips into them as Brittany strokes her stomach, already sitting with her legs dangling off the side of the bed.
"We're fine. We're good. We're ready," Santana says.
It's mostly to herself though, as some kind of calming technique and after she pushes a top into Brittany's hand, she blanks. But then fingers latch onto her wrist and she's brought back to earth, and to blue eyes.
"Calm down, Santana," Brittany whispers. "We really are fine. Just grab my stuff and lets get to the car."
Despite the fact that Santana's sure she should be the one saying that, she takes a few deep breaths and calms down. Her mind manages sorts itself out and then she's getting back into action again, wetting her lips, grabbing Brittany's hand, wrapping her arm around Brittany's waist and walking them both to the front door, only pausing to sling the duffel bag over her shoulder before they leave.
"We're having a baby, San," Brittany murmurs in wonderment as Santana straps her in.
Santana doesn't even hesitate before lifting up to press a lingering kiss to her wife's mouth.
//
The Lamaze classes really do help it seems, and Santana times her wife's contractions as she cuts through the streets of New York.
Brittany's contractions are three to five minutes apart, lasting between forty and sixty seconds and Santana knows, even through the sleepiness, that this means Brittany should probably be in a hospital room about now.
She's in the 'active phase' and Santana coaches her wife through all the relaxation techniques and breathing exercises they've practiced in the past few months, trying to remember to breath herself because she can't panic. She's not allowed to panic because if she does, Brittany will start panicking and if Brittany starts panicking, both of them will be panicking and that won't do anyone any good.
So she just steadies her breaths at the red lights and sends a prayer to the heavens that there's no roadworks on their route.
//
Brittany's in a considerable amount of pain by the time they get to the hospital, and Santana leaves her car in a no parking zone as she rushes around to the passenger side door and helps her wife out.
They get to the front desk and the words leave her mouth so quickly that she doesn't even know what she really says.
But then there's a nurse lowering Brittany into wheelchair, telling her they have a private room ready for them and Santana doesn't really care about much else.
She just grabs Brittany's hand as they're lead to the room.
//
Six hours later and the next phase comes, and Santana's pretty sure in their entire time together combined—friendship and all—she's never heard Brittany swear this much.
She's cursing like a truck driver, glaring at Santana with red hot cheeks and a sweaty forehead, and Santana knows this is all part of the first stage and sits beside her, nodding when Brittany tells her this is her fault and takes none of the insults thrown her way seriously as she rubs her wife's back.
The contractions become more frequent, coming ever two to three minutes and lasting about a minute each and Brittany becomes more tired out as the hours drag on.
But Santana's there, holding her from behind, stretching her legs out either side of Brittany's as she sits behind her and rocks them back and forth.
A few minutes later, and the doctor tells them it's time to start pushing.
//
Santana stands by the bedside, clutching at Brittany's hand and breathing in and out with her, ignoring the sound of the doctor between her wife's legs.
She doesn't know how long it is before Brittany's throwing her head back, screaming out through tears and clutching Santana's hand so hard that she's sure she's going to need an x-ray afterward, but she doesn't care. Because then there's a tiny cry breaking through the air and Santana glances down to see the second most beautiful thing in the room.
Everything in the room beside Brittany and the source of the crying disappears, and when the doctor hands over a little bundle into Brittany's arms, she breaks down into tears herself.
She chokes on the sobs in her throat and looks at Brittany who's sobbing too, but they're both cracking a smile and it all feels too much again. They've been waiting for this moment for so long. They've been planning and waiting and practicing, but nothing could have ever prepared Santana for this. Her baby boy, her son, in her wife's arms, stretching his tiny, chubby little arms above his head and dropping his tiny lips open to yawn. Tiny little cries are escaping his lips, and his eyes are squeezed shut and Santana just wants to know what are behind those tiny pale eyelids. Are they brown eyes? Or does he carry his other mothers astounding crystal blue ones?
Her tears begin to die down as she leans in towards Brittany, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to her head and then pressing their temples together, looking down at their son. It all feels too surreal and she can't help but choke out a laugh, sniffling at the baby and reaching forward until five, tiny little fingers wrap around the end of her pointer one. Elijah's skin is so soft and she begins to cry all over again, so proud, so happy, so fucking in love, and shit. Elijah already has her wrapped around his little finger. Almost literally.
“San,” Brittany whispers and Santana turns her head just in time to catch the kiss her wife offers.
Their lips stay together, a gasp coming up from Santana's throat but she doesn't move, just keeps kissing her over and over until her head becomes dizzy and she has to pull back, but even then she just whispers, “I love you” into the blondes lips.
Then she repeats it to the small human in Brittany's arms and everything just feels complete.
//
Elijah Lopez-Pierce was born at 4:48am on 20th May 2022.
Santana knows down to the very second of the minute he was born, that it's going to be engrained in her mind forever.
He's weighs eight pounds, two ounces and is already twenty one inches from his tiny head to his cute little button toes. Dark, thick hair covers his head, leaning to the left after Brittany brushed it there, he's got Brittany's lips, Santana's nose, smooth tanned skin and big, beautiful blue eyes. He's quite possibly the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.
Although, with Brittany lying there, staring dreamily down at him, Santana second guesses herself.
“He's beautiful,” Brittany whispers and Santana sighs, shifting further onto the bed where she's lying beside her wife and their baby. Their son.
“He's half of you so that's not really surprising,” she says, biting her lip and blushing ever-so-slightly.
Lips, warm and soft, press against her cheek and a nose strokes over her jaw as Brittany pulls back. “Half of you, too.”
Even though she's known this for nine months, knowing that this little thing, bundled in a blue blanket cradled to Brittany's chest, is half hers still manages to rip the breath straight from her chest. She chokes a little, pounds her fist against her chest twice and looks away because it's actually embarrassing how much she's cried since they got here, but Brittany's there, reaching up before she can wipe the tears forming in the corners of her eyes and shakes her head.
“Don't,” she mutters, and Santana doesn't, just settles back beside her and lets the tears flow as she feels an overwhelming rush of pride wash through her, her eyes looking between her girl, and her little man.
The two most important people in her life.
//
After Elijah's been cleaned up and Brittany's been moved into another, larger room, the recovery room, she thinks, the nurse comes in and tells them she needs to put some ID bands on them.
Santana's a little wary because she doesn't see a point in the near future where she's going to be apart from either Brittany or Elijah, but Brittany wraps her hand around hers and squeezes and nods at the nurse, telling her it's okay.
The band goes around Santana's wrist, and she watches the nurse delicately pick up Elijah's wrist and tug it to the smallest hole on it. It worries her for a moment, but it seems the nurse sees your concern because she looks at her and says everything's okay and that the baby's healthy.
She can't help but begin to cry again and it makes her feel a little better when she turns to find Brittany doing the same thing.
She just kisses Brittany on the temple and settles back, holding both of them close.
//
The nurse comes back ten minutes later and tells Brittany attempting to nurse Elijah now at the same time he begins to suck at Santana's finger as she strokes over his features, his tiny nose and little lips.
Despite looking wholly scared by the proposal, she nods and Santana dislikes hat she has to hand Elijah back for that, but knows it needs to be done and moves.
She slowly passes him over, catching her breath when Elijah makes a sound of protest but then he quietens the moment he settles against Brittany's chest and Santana all about melts. She helps her wife with her hospital gown, able to see how tired Brittany is and pulls one side of it open, tugging it gently down her shoulder until her breast is revealed. Elijah scrunches up his face and his mouth pops open, and Santana already knows that means he's about to cry, but Brittany does too and is already shifting him up until Elijah latches on and begins nursing.
“Oh my God...” Brittany's eyes are wide and she blinks, her chest pushing forward.
Santana giggles and perches on the side of the bed, keeping one hand around her wife's shoulder and the other supporting and steadying Elijah. “Weird?”
“So weird,” Brittany replies but she chuckles and Santana takes a second to glance between the two, realizing how madly in love she is with both of them. “But a good weird, you know?”
“Yeah, baby. Do you need anything? A snack or something?”
“A nap would be good,” she chuckles and yawns a second afterward, flinching when Elijah slips off. Santana urges him forward again and he starts again, yet she lets her hand linger and finger stroke over his dark curls.
“Yeah, baby,” she murmurs, eyes trained on her son. She doesn't think she'll ever be able to get over thinking that. “But no food or anything?”
Brittany shakes her head and leans back against Santana's arm, twisting her head to press her nose into the base of a tanned neck.
“No, thank you,” she breathes out, clearly exhausted. “I have everything I need.”
Santana just sighs through a smile.
//
“What does he look like? Is he beautiful? Does he have brown eyes or blue eyes? Does he look more like you or Brittany? How tall is he?”
Santana shakes her head against Rachel's continuous questions, clutching the cell phone closer to her ear. “Would you shut up for a second and hand me back to Quinn?”
Somehow calling Quinn ended up with Rachel snatching the phone, running away and asking all these questions. And where Santana wants to answer absolutely everything to do with Elijah, she's tired and just wants to tell someone that they're okay and everything went well. That person being Quinn.
“Fine you can have her back for sixty seconds but then I'm taking the phone back.”
“Whatever, Berry. Just hand the damn phone over.”
Seconds later Quinn's muffled voice comes down the line. “Hey, S. How's Britt?”
Santana tilts her head, temple pressed against the door jam as she stares into the room. Brittany's lying on her side, fast asleep and there's a cot in the corner of the room where Elijah lies. It's not hospital policy but she was pretty damn set on not letting either of them out of her sight. The nurse seemed a bit scared by Santana's cocked brow and tensed jaw and just nodded and told her she might be able to bring in a cot.
“She's fine. Tired, but fine.”
“What about you?”
Santana chuckles but she doesn't know why. “I haven't sleep in the last twenty seven hours and I'm pretty sure my adrenaline of my son's birth is running out.”
“Shit. That's so weird.”
She straightens up. “What?”
“Saying you have a son,” Quinn explains and Santana can imagine the shrug that went with it. “You're a full on adult now.”
“I was a full on adult when I met you.”
“Not really. You were still pretending you weren't madly in love with your best friend and that your marriage was working.”
Santana flinches and glowers. “Fuck you,” she whispers but guesses her friend kind of has a point. “Anyway, pass me back to your midget. She wants to know about Eli.”
“Wow, you're actually going to answer her questions? You're in love already.”
It's not a question, it's a statement and Santana manages a smile. “I can even describe it, Q.”
“Okay, well here's my fiancee—“ Santana doesn't even gag. Apparently she's that tired. “--And be nice.”
She squeezes her eyes shut and scrunches up her face, feeling her muscles ache. “I'll do my best.”
Then Rachel comes on the line and Santana really wishes she'd hung up, but is sort of secretly glad she gets to gush over her son.
Not that she'd ever admit that.
//
She wanders back into the room at some point and slumps down on the chair, hand rubbing over her face and pressing into her eyes to rid the ache behind them. She lets out a long exhale and hangs her head, rolling it from side to side to get the crick out her neck. She has absolutely no idea what time it is but couldn't really give a damn right now. Her son's too her right and her wife's too her right. The lack of sleep means nothing at this precise moment in time.
“San?”
Santana lifts her head and sees her wife blink sleepily at her. “I'm here.”
A hand reaches out for her. “Come here,” she whispers and Santana doesn't let a second pass before she's sliding onto the bed and letting Brittany curl into her, head tucked beneath her chin and hands clasped above her chest. Her own follow it and she rests her head back, allowing her eyes to shut.
They both fall asleep.
//
Barely twenty minutes later Santana woken by the sound of the door opening and a tiny cry.
Seems her body is already programmed for waking up and she shoots from the bed, half-sprinting toward the nurse who's carrying Elijah, covered in blankets, into the room.
“Is he okay? What's wrong?”
The nurse blinks at her, dazed by the questions thrown at her. “Time for another attempt at nursing,” she says after returning to normality. In her arms, Elijah fusses and scrunches up his nose, hands reaching out for something that isn't there.
“Okay, well hand him over and I'll wake Britt up.”
“You sure you don't need any help?”
Santana shakes her head as Elijah's delicately placed into her arms where he curls into her, snuggling down. A soft smile tugs at her lips and her heart expands at least three sizes. How could she have fallen in love with something in such a short amount of time? “No, it's fine. Thank you.”
Giving her a nod, the nurse walks out and Santana makes her way over to the sleeping blonde, perching onto the edge of the bed and shifting Elijah so he's comfortable and steady before reaching over and placing her hand on Brittany's shoulder. She shakes her gently, whispering her name until Brittany begins to stir, rolling slightly and blinking lazily until she sees Santana and Elijah, which causes her to bolt upright, eyes wide and back as straight as a pole.
“What's wrong? Is he okay?” She blurts out, hand snapping to cup Elijah's skull. “Are you okay? What's going on?”
Santana chuckles. “No, babe. Nothing's wrong. We're fine, Eli just needs some feeding.”
Brittany breathes out a heavy exhale and relaxes back, already peeling open her hospital gown. “Oh okay,” she sighs, the fatigue taking over her once again.
Finding it more than adorable, Santana just aids Elijah in nursing and when he's latched on, her phone begins buzzing in her pocket. The intrusion is unwanted and she's pretty it could be Rachel 'cause she wouldn't put it past her to ring half an hour after their last phone call to check for any changes. Just thinking it might be her pisses her off and she leans down to Elijah, pressing a kiss to the back of his skull and then leans up to Brittany.
“Gotta go outside for a second,” she whispers, dusting her lips across Brittany's. “I'll be back in a second.”
Brittany nods and takes Elijah, pulling him to her chest and making sure he doesn't detach as Santana slips out the door.
//
“Berry, I swear to God—“
“Not the fruit you're looking for,” a voice replies. “Who's Berry anyway?”
Santana jerks her head back and looks at the illuminated screen, confused. Then she sees the caller ID and realizes it's not Rachel, quickly returning it to her ear.
“Berry's someone small and annoying,” she says, smiling. “You two would get along swimmingly, actually, Em.”
“Haha,” Brittany's sister fires back, dryly. “Where's my sister, anyway?”
“You rang my phone and you're asking where your sister is?”
“You two are like, stuck together all the time. It's gross.” Santana rolls her eyes but laughs. “So she isn't with you?”
“She's in the room behind me but yeah,” she says. “Why didn't you just ring her?”
“Because she's just popped, Einstein. She's gonna need to sleep and crap, and I'm pretty sure you can't be on your cell in hospitals anyway”
Santana looks around her, seeing a nurse eye her from the nurses station and decides to move to the stairwell. Just in case. “You can when outside the hospital room. Now anyway, I wanna get back to my family so what do you want, squirt?”
“I was just checking to make sure everything was okay. I know my mom and dad talked to Britt earlier but they didn't mention you, so... You know. Just thought I'd check up on you.”
The one thing they never do, her and Emily that is, is ask about how each other are. They do care for each other obviously, and behind all the jokes and the banter, they definitely love each other too, but they never tell each other that. It's just not how they work. Kind of like her and Quinn, they're best friends but they spend the majority of their time together throwing insults and light jabs. And hearing Emily be concerned about it, it kind of makes her smile. Not that she's going to tell Emily that, though.
“Aw, little Emily concerned?”
“Shut up, I'm just asking for Britt. If you're not okay then she isn't so.”
Santana leans back against the wall and crosses one arm over her chest. “Yeah, Em, I'm fine. Tired but fine.”
“Cool... Cool.” It goes silent for a moment and she takes in a deep breath, wondering what to say next. Like she said, they never do this so she doesn't know where to go now. “Anyway, seeing as you can't give Eli my name as the middle one 'cause he's a stupid boy—“
“The stupid boy that's your nephew.”
“--Yeah, whatever. Anyway, 'cause you can't name him Elijah 'Emily' Lopez-Pierce, how about Emilio? Or like, Elmar, or Elmo?”
“Hell no,” Santana almost yells back. “I'm not naming my kid after some weird, fuzzy character from Sesame Street.”
“Fine,” Emily sighs. “How about Emilio? That's pretty close to Emily.”
“No.”
“Elmar?”
“Sounds like a grandpa's name.”
“Emmanuel?”
Santana shakes her head and groans, pushing off the wall with her shoulder blades and walking back into the hospital hallway. “No.”
“Erm... hold on, the page is loading.”
She laughs again and drops her arm, peering around the corner to make sure there aren't any nurses at the station before quickly skipping past and slipping into Brittany's hospital room, leaning back against the door as she shuts it.
“Emmett?”
“A character from Twilight? Really?”
On the bed, Brittany's cradling Elijah and rocking him back and forth in her arms, but her eyes are locked onto Santana. She mouths “who's that?” and Santana smiles as she crosses the room to get to her, pushing her palm over the speaking end of her cell phone as she whispers “Emily” and kisses Brittany in greeting.
“Okay, well there aren't anymore so you gotta choose one of them.”
“I'm going now,” Santana says. “Unless you wanna talk to Britt.”
“No, I'm good, but--“
“Bye, Emily.”
The line clicks off before she even hears Emily's response and throws the phone across the room where it lands on the cushion of the armchair. Her left arm lays across Brittany's legs and her other comes up to toy with Elijah's hand resting just shy of Brittany's breast. It makes her heart clench as she looks at her family but then she sees blue eyes locked onto her face and cocks her head to the side.
“What?”
Brittany shrugs and looks back down to the baby. “Nothing,” she breathes. “What did Emily want?”
Brown eyes narrow but Santana answers anyway, curious as to why Brittany was staring at her. “Just trying to get us to middle name Elijah some random ass names.”
“Santana,” Brittany chides at the curse. “What did she suggest?”
“Emmanuel, Elmar, Emmet, Elmo—“
“As in the thing from Sesame Street?”
Santana grins and bobs her head, stroking over Elijah's wrist with the back of her finger. “Yeah.”
“So... Do you have any thoughts about it?”
She glances up, eyebrows pushed together. “About what?”
Brittany lowers her vision to Elijah who begins spilling milk down her breast, then reels away with a scrunched face and popped open lips. She pulls him away and carefully hands him to Santana who stands, cradles the base of his skull, rests him on her chest and lets his head rest gently on her shoulder. She heads over to the duffel bag they brought with them and unzips it, reaching inside to grab the burping cloth and slide it beneath Elijah’s head before she begins gently patting his back in a circular motion.
She turns back to Brittany, trying to remember where they left the conversation. Oh, right, middle names. “So, yeah, um, do I have any thoughts about what?”
“Middle names for Eli.”
Santana tugs her bottom lip into her mouth, chewing it lightly. “I hadn't really thought about it,” she answers, honestly, walking around the room, still rubbing Elijah's back. “I mean, I was thinking...”
She trails off. Not because she doesn't know what to say but because she's not sure if it's a good idea. Sure, Brittany will appreciate it but... She doesn't know. It seems a bit like she's copying if she suggests what she's thinking. But it would be in honor of the person who owns the name now, she guesses.
“Thinking what?”
Over her shoulder, Elijah lets out a loud burp and Santana feels the milk drip onto her shirt where it's missed the burping cloth. She arches her chest forward, moving toward the bed to hand her son over, the cloth too, before she moves back toward the armchair, reaching to the duffel bag beside it for a new shirt. She's sure she packed one in here somewhere...
“Santana?”
She spins around, hands coming down to the hem of her top to whip it off her body in one swift motion. “Yeah?”
Brittany wipes the milk off Elijah's chin as she speaks. “What were you thinking?”
“I was just—“ her t-shirt gets caught in her mouth and prevents her from speaking for a moment. “—Just thinking something,” she continues and tugs the armchair forward, throwing the dirty shirt on top of the duffel bag simultaneously. She takes a seat and shuffles to the edge, reaching with both hands to grab at her wife and her son, softly. “I don't know. I had an idea but... I don't want you to think I'm like, copying you.” She takes in a deep breath and shakes her head, leaning back. “Don't worry, it's just stupid.
Her thumb rubs over the back of Brittany's hand as she talks, and her eyes drop down to follow the movement. But then the hand beneath hers pull out and stretches to her chin, pinching it lightly and forcing her to look up.
“It won't be stupid,” Brittany's voice is serious and low. “So just tell me.”
“You don't know that.”
“I don't but I know you and I know you're not stupid.”
Santana takes the hand away from her face, tangling their fingers together and covering it with her free hand. Even though Brittany's saying she's not being stupid, she still feels it. The idea isn't exactly original and she can't say she's been thinking about it for a while because truthfully, she's only just thought about it, but she's still wary.
“I was thinking...” she sucks in her lips and takes in a deep breath. “What about your dad?”
Fair eyebrows pull together, Brittany's face scrunching too. “What about him?”
“His name... Neil.” Santana lifts her shoulders and lets her eyes flicker up quickly before dropping once more. “Elijah... Neil... Lopez-Pierce.”
There's a few moments of silence in which Santana's scared to look up. She doesn't know how to react and she knows Neil isn't exactly like, a baby's name—even though obviously it has been at some point—but it's just something of respect. After all, Brittany suggested they name him after Santana's abuelo, and Neil's been an inspiration after the events of the past few years. He's strong and Santana knows this is a good idea, but she's worried. Even if she doesn't know why.
“You'd do that?”
She whips her head up, seeing the unbridled excitement beam through glassy, blue eyes. “Well, yeah,” she says through a shrug. “I mean... Your dad's basically my dad and, he's been amazing to us.” She shrugs again, not quite knowing why. “He's been through much and is so strong and, I don't know. I think he deserves to be included. I mean, my family is, too so—“
“Kiss me,” Brittany cuts in, waving her hand in the air to beckon Santana. “Just—come here and kiss me.”
Santana doesn't protest, just stretches up, using her palms to support her weight and presses their lips together. The kiss is warm, Brittany's lips too and Santana's eyes flutter shut as she smiles into her wife's mouth. They pull back, keeping the kiss short because Elijah's still in Brittany's arms and god only knows they get carried away sometimes, and then they're both looking down at their child, their baby, their son and smiling together.
“Elijah Neil Lopez-Pierce,” Santana sighs, because this moment doesn't feel real. She can't believe she's finally got the girl and the family. It's just... It's incredible.
“Yeah, baby, Elijah Neil Lopez-Pierce. Our son.”
Santana just sighs.
//
Brittany has to stay overnight again according to standard hospital guidelines and when the nurse comes in to tell them this, Santana's all ready for a nights sleep in the armchair, but Brittany throws her a look and she freezes in the middle of the hospital room.
“What?”
“You're not going to sleep in the chair, babe,” Brittany whispers as Elijah sleeps gently against her chest.
Santana eyes the floor, warily. “The floor's a bit cold and that bed isn't big enough for us both.”
“I know, but I think you should just go home for tonight and have a good nights sleep. You haven't slept for more than twenty minutes since we got here.”
She wants to argue but apparently the man upstairs is out to get her because she begins yawning before she can even come back with a reply. Brittany lifts a brow in her direction in that told you so manner and Santana rolls her eyes. Her wife does have a point, she guesses. She hasn't really slept all that much and she doesn't even know what day it is but she just wants to stay here with Brittany and Eli. She doesn't want to leave them.
“You haven't slept that much more,” she finally retorts, falling into the chair beside the bed and kicking her feet up.
“I've had way more sleep than you, San. Honestly,” Brittany says, stroking her hand over Elijah's dark hair. “Just go home and sleep tonight.”
Santana can feel another yawn coming on but fights it with everything inside of her. She's stubborn and frankly, she doesn't want to even think about leaving her family, let alone actually doing it. “Britt, I'm fine. I just wanna stay here with you and Eli.”
“San,” Brittany says in her warning tone. “You can come back as soon as you wake up tomorrow and take us home.”
“No, I don't want to.”
“Well you're going to.”
Santana tilts her head to the side. “Britt,” she deadpans, fighting her corner.
“San,” Brittany mirrors in the same manner but chuckles afterward. “Baby, please go home. You look like—poo,” she lands on, pulling her lips down at the side and glancing at the baby. Oh right, yeah, the no swearing thing.
“Thanks, Britt,” Santana says, flatly, but yawns straight afterward, stretching her arms into the air before letting them fall back down against the chair. “Okay, I am tired,” she finally admits when she notices the blue eyes staring at her with no amusement whatsoever. They stare at her for long moments, and she swears they're acting worming their way into her mind and switching her decision because she finds herself giving in. Then again, she always gives into what Brittany wants. What Brittany wants, Brittany gets. It's always been like that. “Fine!” She half-yells, shaking her head and leaning forward. “I'll go home, tonight, jheeze.”
“Good,” Brittany beams, brightly, showing all her teeth through a grin and lifting her hand to poke at Elijah's lower lip as it drops open, tiny snores coming from his mouth.
Santana just rolls her eyes.
//
The moment she gets home, she already wants to go back to the hospital.
It's dark, and cold, and lonely and really, really empty. The apartment just feels too big without Brittany and Santana walks around the place, flinching at the sound of her own footsteps because she's never taken notice of them before. Not whilst Brittany was there, lingering somewhere in the apartment. She stops when she gets to the bedroom and stares at the bed, inhaling deeply and letting her eyes flutter shut as Brittany's scent hits her.
She just stands there and stares for at least five minutes, looking between each side of the bed and sighing, just knowing she's going to be sleeping alone tonight.
She remembers back when Sophie first moved to California and Santana had to go back to her apartment because she didn't have an excuse to stay at Brittany's anymore, how crappy that night was. Luckily, it didn't exactly last long but the length of time she spent lying in bed alone, staring at the right side of the bed and frowning at how the sheets were still perfectly intact was freaking awful.
And if she stays in that bed, the same thing will happen and she just can't sleep in that bed alone, so she walks back through the apartment, stopping at the hallway closet to grab a blanket and two pillows before heading to the living room. It's a little better, and she settles down onto the couch, flicking on the TV to some boring documentary and leans back against her arm, drumming her other hand against her stomach and thinking of how tomorrow, she gets to bring her son and her wife back home.
She can't think of anything better.
//
The moment she's beginning to drift off to sleep, her phone begins buzzing on the floor next to her. She reaches down blindly and swipes at it, wincing and squinting at the brightness of the screen as she punches in her code and brings up the text. It's Brittany of course, and there's a picture attached to it, too and she opens it right away, revealing a sleepy Brittany, mostly snuggled behind the robe Santana bought her from home, and Elijah's lying on his back, arms and legs spread out starfish style, but he's quite obviously asleep. The caption is barely an inch below and she begins welling up as she reads it.
We're missing you over here. Elijah can't wait to come home tomorrow!
Santana sucks in her lips to stop the tears from flowing and shakes her head, knowing that Brittany wants her right now but also knows the hospital probably wouldn't take too kindly to her barging in and demanding to stay with her wife. She's pretty sure that's why they have security at that place. She doesn't even hesitate in texting back.
That's not fair, Britt Britt. I wanna be with you two. Can I ring you?
She taps her screen and stares at her phone after she sends it, just waiting. The picture is still on screen and she sighs as she looks at it. She really would do anything to be snuggled up with Elijah and Brittany right now. Anything. Her phone vibrates and she snatches quickly before the screen can fade.
For a minute. I don't want to wake Eli or piss any of the nurses off.
Santana grins and doesn't hesitate in calling her wife, bringing the phone to her ear and rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling.
“Hey, baby.”
“Thought we weren't allowed to swear,” she says in lieu of a greeting.
Brittany giggles quietly down the line. “I wrote it, it's not the same.”
“So if I write down my swear words I can swear?”
“You're so silly,” Brittany replies, voice hushed. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Santana says honestly. She's not. She's alone in a dark, lonely house when her newborn son and wife are somewhere else. She's pretty crappy. “I wanna be with you.”
“You will be tomorrow, San. It's only a few hours away.”
Making a disproving grunt, she rolls onto her stomach and presses her chin into the pillow, staring at the headboard. “I don't care,” she whines. “I wanna be with you now.”
The sound of Brittany giggling beneath her breath almost makes Santana run out her apartment and to the hospital. “Baby, don't do that. We wanna be with you, too, but you need some sleep and so do we.”
“Does this mean you're going?” She pouts, voice dropping with sadness.
“Stop pouting, it's making me pout, too,” Brittany replies and Santana's pout turns into a grin. “And yeah. Elijah keeps stirring and rolling and he needs one last feed before we go to sleep.”
“Okay,” she draws out. “Fine. But this sucks, Britt Britt. I'm going to be at the hospital bright and early tomorrow.”
“You better be. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“Not possible.”
“Think it is.”
Brittany giggles and Santana can hear her wife shaking her head. “Nope, definitely not, but we've really gotta go now, honey. Elijah says goodnight.”
She breathes out heavily and pinches her lips up at the side. “Kiss him goodnight for me.”
“What about me?”
She grins and rolls again, chuckling into the air. “You can't kiss yourself, Britt.”
“I can imagine you kissing me,” Brittany drawls, and Santana can hear the suggestiveness of her tone.
“Well do it innocently because our son is lying next to you and kiss yourself goodnight for me. A few times. Three or four tops. No, wait, make it six. Or seven. Screw it, go for ten.”
Her wife laughs quietly as she speaks. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too. Night Britt.”
“Night, baby.”
The line goes dead and until the moment she falls asleep, Santana stares at the picture of her son and her wife.
//
Brittany's already changing Elijah into another outfit, her ready-to-see-your-home outfit as Brittany had called it, when Santana arrives at the hospital room.
She throws another duffel onto the floor, full of baby clothes and Brittany's clothes, onto the floor and immediately shoots to her wife, wrapping Brittany up in a backwards hug and letting one hand lay across her stomach—shocked by the sudden flatness of it—whilst the other adjusts the footing of Elijah's babygrow. Brittany leans back into her, and finishes doing up the velcro of Elijah's clothing before standing upright and laying her arms over the tanned ones around her waist.
“I missed you,” Santana murmurs, nuzzling into her neck.
Brittany twists in her arms, hands coming up to cup her cheeks. “We missed you too,” she replies through a pout, already ducking her head to kiss Santana quickly before spinning back to their son. She picks Elijah up and sits back on the side of the bed, wincing, probably because she's still sore and Santana just stares at her, concerned. She hates seeing Brittany in pain, or in discomfort or whatever.
“You okay?”
Brittany manages a pained smile but nods and holds out Elijah. “Yeah,” she says. “But can you hold him for a moment?”
“Sure.” Santana cradles her son carefully, resting his head her shoulder and gently rubbing his back seeing as it's 8:15 and he would've had his feeding at 8. “Do you need me to get you something?”
Brittany's palms press into the mattress and she closes her eyes, sucking in her lips as she shuffles onto the bed. “No, I'm just sore.”
“Aw, baby, I hate this.”
“The nurse said I'll be fine in a few days,” she says, slowly moving to her feet. “I'll just have to adjust to sitting down until then.”
Santana nods and begins bumping her body up and down as Elijah drools onto her neck. She doesn't care, though. “Okay, well tell me if I can do anything.”
Brittany flashes her a grateful smile and moves around the room, slowly picking up and packing the clothing into the duffel bags, but only stopping when her phone vibrates. She moves to it and picks it up, thumbing across the screen and smiling at whatever was sent.
“Who's that?” Santana asks, intrigued as Elijah burps over her shoulder. There's going to be more drool there now, but that's part of having a baby, right?
“Rachel. She said she wants to come over as soon as we're back.”
“Oh hell no, she ain't holding my kid,” Santana defends, hand reaching up to cup the back of Eli's head.
Brittany just throws her a look.
//
Santana's on the edge of her seat from the moment Brittany hands Elijah to Rachel. Her nails dig into the arms of the chair she's in and her eyes never stray from the brunette as she sings quietly into his ear and strokes his head tenderly. Admittedly, Rachel's actually handling Eli a lot better than Santana expected, and she can tell just from this that Rachel's already in love with the idea of having a kid, which makes Santana smirk as her eyes drift to Quinn, sitting on the sofa and staring wide eyed at her fiancee. She's totally crapping it.
Santana kicks the bottom of the sofa to grab her friends attention. “You look like you're shitting bricks over there.”
Hazel eyes slide in her direction. “Swear to God if I get home and she asks for a kid I'm gonna kick your ass, Lopez.”
“I didn't do shit,” she defends, lifting her hands beside her in a surrendering gesture. “We've been expecting this for nine months so you should've prepared for it.”
Quinn glares at her until Santana looks away and laughs, eying her wife in the kitchen. They've been home for most of the day now and surprising enough, it was Brittany that told Rachel and Quinn that they couldn't come over until the evening because they needed to settle in and everything. Quinn said it was fair and Rachel complained. No shock there.
“You don't want kids, then?”
“I do, just... Not yet. It's too soon. Plus I don't want to become a sap just yet.”
“I'm not a sap,” Santana snaps but relaxes when Brittany's eyes slide in her direction. “And we thought that having baby would've been too soon, too, but,” she shrugs to pause her sentence. “Eli really is the best thing that's ever happened to us. Beside you know, falling in love and all that romantic crap.”
“Charming, Santana,” Quinn fires back but reaches for her bottle of beer, taking a long pull. “And I know but we don't have the advantages that you two did,” she nods to Santana's groin. “So ours won't be a surprise.”
Santana leans over and smacks her friend on the back of the head. “Shut it, Q. You're making it sound like it was a bad thing.”
“Shit, Lopez, there was no need for that,” her friend complains, rubbing the back of her head and glowering. “And it's not like you were planning for Eli, was it?”
“No, but it was a welcome surprise.”
Hazel eyes roll and Santana smirks as she settles back into the chair, watching Brittany glide into the room and drop a kiss to Elijah's head before telling Rachel it's time for his feed now. Santana instantly jolts up from her chair and grabs the nursing pillow, letting her wife take her previous seat and setting the pillow in her lap before reaching for Elijah.
Except Rachel twirls away and Santana dips her head, eyebrow lifting.
“I'm perfectly capable of handling a baby, Santana,” Rachel says moving past her to get to Brittany.
“And I'm perfectly capable of making sure you never see the light of day, hobbit so give me my son.”
The threat works apparently because Rachel stares at her wide eyed before holding out Elijah and letting Santana take him. She instantly melts the moment he's in her arms, and she coos, running her thumb across his tanned cheek as she walks toward her wife. She bends into a crouch, and slowly passes him to Brittany, dropping a kiss to his tiny little nose before, and when she straightens up she realizes Quinn's smirking at her from across the room.
“What you staring at, Fabgay?” Santana spits, straightening up.
Quinn smirks. “And you said you weren't a sap.”
Santana just throws a pillow at her.
//
Later on when they've put Elijah to bed in their room—they moved the cot in there this afternoon after releasing how attached they are—which may or may not have taken like, forty five minutes because Santana nor Brittany wanted to part with their son, and Rachel and Quinn have gone, they're getting ready for bed, brushing their teeth and bumping their hips together, smirking at each other in the mirror.
They both spit out at the same time, holding their hair behind their neck and Santana grins at her wife, unable to resist leaning over and stealing a kiss as they pull back.
Brittany tilts her head the moment Santana pulls back. “What was that for?”
She shrugs. “For being you, I don't know,” she tries, not entirely sure why she did that. She just loves Brittany.
Brittany's face lights up and she switches off the tap with one hand whilst the other curls around a tanned neck, cupping it and tugging on it until they're kissing again, this time a little deeper, a lot slower, and a lot longer. Santana's mind begins to dizzy and her eyes flutter as a warm wet tongue flicks against her lip. She hasn't kissed Brittany like this in like, three days and for them that's like two weeks. She smiles against her wife's mouth, giggling when the blonde presses closer, their chests pushing up against each other and Brittany squirms as tanned fingertips dip beneath the hem of her top, tracing up her ribs and around to the small of her back.
But all good things come to an end, especially with their newborn son in the other room and Santana breaks the kiss, breathing hard and ignoring the way arousal throbs through her. With this whole pregnancy thing, she and Brittany have been at it like rabbits, and it's been five days since they last made love. Five days. That really is too long in their terms and she's desperately wishing that they could maybe have a quickie in the bathroom but it's not a good idea.
And they have other priorities right now. Even if their main priority is asleep right now.
“Come on,” she pants, licking her lips, shaking her head and stepping back completely, offering out a hand. “Let's go to bed.”
Brittany smiles and grabs the tanned hand with both of hers, bouncing as they both enter the bathroom and slide into bed, gravitating to the middle and wrapping themselves up in each other. Their noses squash together and Santana lets her eyes fall shut as she inhales the scent of vanilla and honeycomb wafting up from Brittany's scent. Her heart flutters and she can't help but press their lips together quickly, letting her lips brush up and catch Brittany's nose as she pulls away, earning a quiet giggle that makes her stomach flip and a smile grow across her face.
“Hey, San?”
Santana blinks and looks over her shoulder toward the cot, just in case. “Yeah, Britt?”
“We've got our own family.”
It's said with such excitement and joy that Santana almost jumps up and starts doing the celebratory dance that always makes Brittany laugh so hard her lungs begin hurting, but she resists it and instead pull her wife closer with the arm wrapped around a slim waist and nuzzles into her cheek.
“Yeah, baby, we've got our own family now,” she whispers, lips ghosting over Brittany's.
And she almost gets to kiss her. Almost being the key word because the moment she moves in closer, Elijah begins crying from across the room and Brittany pulls back, eyes frantic and shocked. But Santana just pushes a hand to her shoulder and presses her down to the bed, dropping a peck to her lips and whispering “I've got it” as she rolls out off the mattress and heads over to the cot.
It doesn't matter if she doesn't get any sleep, though.
It doesn't matter if she has to spend fifteen minutes wandering around the house with Elijah on her shoulder and her hand patting his back, either.
It doesn't even matter if she has to pick up a triple espresso and glug down a gallon of coffee tomorrow morning.
It just doesn't matter.
Because she's finally got the perfect family.
And that... That's all that matters.
One moment Santana's coming home from work, lying her head in Brittany's lap, kissing the swell of her stomach and saying how it's only four weeks until they meet, and then the next she's coming home and Brittany's whispering how it's only two.
Brittany's hormones become worse, but it's nothing to complain about and whether it's the middle of the night or too early in the morning when Brittany's hand slips beneath her top and short nails graze over her abs, Santana awakens with a smile, tells Brittany to roll onto her slide, pushes down her boxers and slides into her slowly, fingers slipping between Brittany's as their hands rest on the swell of her stomach.
But then one night she's woken to the sound of her name being called frantically from Brittany's lips and she knows something's different. It's already a week past the due data and she's sat upright in a split second, turning to face her wife as Brittany presses her hand hard into her stomach and looks up through glossy blue eyes.
"My water broke," Brittany says, panic evident in her voice.
And Santana freezes.
It feels too soon to be now. It feels way too soon and even though there's a duffel bag sitting by the front door already, even though they've both read up on what they need to do and have been to countless Lamaze classes to get ready for this moment, it still doesn't feel like enough.
Santana still forces herself into action, whipping her head around with fatigue still tugging at her mind and jumps off the bed. She moves around their bedroom, grabs some clothes and slips into them as Brittany strokes her stomach, already sitting with her legs dangling off the side of the bed.
"We're fine. We're good. We're ready," Santana says.
It's mostly to herself though, as some kind of calming technique and after she pushes a top into Brittany's hand, she blanks. But then fingers latch onto her wrist and she's brought back to earth, and to blue eyes.
"Calm down, Santana," Brittany whispers. "We really are fine. Just grab my stuff and lets get to the car."
Despite the fact that Santana's sure she should be the one saying that, she takes a few deep breaths and calms down. Her mind manages sorts itself out and then she's getting back into action again, wetting her lips, grabbing Brittany's hand, wrapping her arm around Brittany's waist and walking them both to the front door, only pausing to sling the duffel bag over her shoulder before they leave.
"We're having a baby, San," Brittany murmurs in wonderment as Santana straps her in.
Santana doesn't even hesitate before lifting up to press a lingering kiss to her wife's mouth.
//
The Lamaze classes really do help it seems, and Santana times her wife's contractions as she cuts through the streets of New York.
Brittany's contractions are three to five minutes apart, lasting between forty and sixty seconds and Santana knows, even through the sleepiness, that this means Brittany should probably be in a hospital room about now.
She's in the 'active phase' and Santana coaches her wife through all the relaxation techniques and breathing exercises they've practiced in the past few months, trying to remember to breath herself because she can't panic. She's not allowed to panic because if she does, Brittany will start panicking and if Brittany starts panicking, both of them will be panicking and that won't do anyone any good.
So she just steadies her breaths at the red lights and sends a prayer to the heavens that there's no roadworks on their route.
//
Brittany's in a considerable amount of pain by the time they get to the hospital, and Santana leaves her car in a no parking zone as she rushes around to the passenger side door and helps her wife out.
They get to the front desk and the words leave her mouth so quickly that she doesn't even know what she really says.
But then there's a nurse lowering Brittany into wheelchair, telling her they have a private room ready for them and Santana doesn't really care about much else.
She just grabs Brittany's hand as they're lead to the room.
//
Six hours later and the next phase comes, and Santana's pretty sure in their entire time together combined—friendship and all—she's never heard Brittany swear this much.
She's cursing like a truck driver, glaring at Santana with red hot cheeks and a sweaty forehead, and Santana knows this is all part of the first stage and sits beside her, nodding when Brittany tells her this is her fault and takes none of the insults thrown her way seriously as she rubs her wife's back.
The contractions become more frequent, coming ever two to three minutes and lasting about a minute each and Brittany becomes more tired out as the hours drag on.
But Santana's there, holding her from behind, stretching her legs out either side of Brittany's as she sits behind her and rocks them back and forth.
A few minutes later, and the doctor tells them it's time to start pushing.
//
Santana stands by the bedside, clutching at Brittany's hand and breathing in and out with her, ignoring the sound of the doctor between her wife's legs.
She doesn't know how long it is before Brittany's throwing her head back, screaming out through tears and clutching Santana's hand so hard that she's sure she's going to need an x-ray afterward, but she doesn't care. Because then there's a tiny cry breaking through the air and Santana glances down to see the second most beautiful thing in the room.
Everything in the room beside Brittany and the source of the crying disappears, and when the doctor hands over a little bundle into Brittany's arms, she breaks down into tears herself.
She chokes on the sobs in her throat and looks at Brittany who's sobbing too, but they're both cracking a smile and it all feels too much again. They've been waiting for this moment for so long. They've been planning and waiting and practicing, but nothing could have ever prepared Santana for this. Her baby boy, her son, in her wife's arms, stretching his tiny, chubby little arms above his head and dropping his tiny lips open to yawn. Tiny little cries are escaping his lips, and his eyes are squeezed shut and Santana just wants to know what are behind those tiny pale eyelids. Are they brown eyes? Or does he carry his other mothers astounding crystal blue ones?
Her tears begin to die down as she leans in towards Brittany, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to her head and then pressing their temples together, looking down at their son. It all feels too surreal and she can't help but choke out a laugh, sniffling at the baby and reaching forward until five, tiny little fingers wrap around the end of her pointer one. Elijah's skin is so soft and she begins to cry all over again, so proud, so happy, so fucking in love, and shit. Elijah already has her wrapped around his little finger. Almost literally.
“San,” Brittany whispers and Santana turns her head just in time to catch the kiss her wife offers.
Their lips stay together, a gasp coming up from Santana's throat but she doesn't move, just keeps kissing her over and over until her head becomes dizzy and she has to pull back, but even then she just whispers, “I love you” into the blondes lips.
Then she repeats it to the small human in Brittany's arms and everything just feels complete.
//
Elijah Lopez-Pierce was born at 4:48am on 20th May 2022.
Santana knows down to the very second of the minute he was born, that it's going to be engrained in her mind forever.
He's weighs eight pounds, two ounces and is already twenty one inches from his tiny head to his cute little button toes. Dark, thick hair covers his head, leaning to the left after Brittany brushed it there, he's got Brittany's lips, Santana's nose, smooth tanned skin and big, beautiful blue eyes. He's quite possibly the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.
Although, with Brittany lying there, staring dreamily down at him, Santana second guesses herself.
“He's beautiful,” Brittany whispers and Santana sighs, shifting further onto the bed where she's lying beside her wife and their baby. Their son.
“He's half of you so that's not really surprising,” she says, biting her lip and blushing ever-so-slightly.
Lips, warm and soft, press against her cheek and a nose strokes over her jaw as Brittany pulls back. “Half of you, too.”
Even though she's known this for nine months, knowing that this little thing, bundled in a blue blanket cradled to Brittany's chest, is half hers still manages to rip the breath straight from her chest. She chokes a little, pounds her fist against her chest twice and looks away because it's actually embarrassing how much she's cried since they got here, but Brittany's there, reaching up before she can wipe the tears forming in the corners of her eyes and shakes her head.
“Don't,” she mutters, and Santana doesn't, just settles back beside her and lets the tears flow as she feels an overwhelming rush of pride wash through her, her eyes looking between her girl, and her little man.
The two most important people in her life.
//
After Elijah's been cleaned up and Brittany's been moved into another, larger room, the recovery room, she thinks, the nurse comes in and tells them she needs to put some ID bands on them.
Santana's a little wary because she doesn't see a point in the near future where she's going to be apart from either Brittany or Elijah, but Brittany wraps her hand around hers and squeezes and nods at the nurse, telling her it's okay.
The band goes around Santana's wrist, and she watches the nurse delicately pick up Elijah's wrist and tug it to the smallest hole on it. It worries her for a moment, but it seems the nurse sees your concern because she looks at her and says everything's okay and that the baby's healthy.
She can't help but begin to cry again and it makes her feel a little better when she turns to find Brittany doing the same thing.
She just kisses Brittany on the temple and settles back, holding both of them close.
//
The nurse comes back ten minutes later and tells Brittany attempting to nurse Elijah now at the same time he begins to suck at Santana's finger as she strokes over his features, his tiny nose and little lips.
Despite looking wholly scared by the proposal, she nods and Santana dislikes hat she has to hand Elijah back for that, but knows it needs to be done and moves.
She slowly passes him over, catching her breath when Elijah makes a sound of protest but then he quietens the moment he settles against Brittany's chest and Santana all about melts. She helps her wife with her hospital gown, able to see how tired Brittany is and pulls one side of it open, tugging it gently down her shoulder until her breast is revealed. Elijah scrunches up his face and his mouth pops open, and Santana already knows that means he's about to cry, but Brittany does too and is already shifting him up until Elijah latches on and begins nursing.
“Oh my God...” Brittany's eyes are wide and she blinks, her chest pushing forward.
Santana giggles and perches on the side of the bed, keeping one hand around her wife's shoulder and the other supporting and steadying Elijah. “Weird?”
“So weird,” Brittany replies but she chuckles and Santana takes a second to glance between the two, realizing how madly in love she is with both of them. “But a good weird, you know?”
“Yeah, baby. Do you need anything? A snack or something?”
“A nap would be good,” she chuckles and yawns a second afterward, flinching when Elijah slips off. Santana urges him forward again and he starts again, yet she lets her hand linger and finger stroke over his dark curls.
“Yeah, baby,” she murmurs, eyes trained on her son. She doesn't think she'll ever be able to get over thinking that. “But no food or anything?”
Brittany shakes her head and leans back against Santana's arm, twisting her head to press her nose into the base of a tanned neck.
“No, thank you,” she breathes out, clearly exhausted. “I have everything I need.”
Santana just sighs through a smile.
//
“What does he look like? Is he beautiful? Does he have brown eyes or blue eyes? Does he look more like you or Brittany? How tall is he?”
Santana shakes her head against Rachel's continuous questions, clutching the cell phone closer to her ear. “Would you shut up for a second and hand me back to Quinn?”
Somehow calling Quinn ended up with Rachel snatching the phone, running away and asking all these questions. And where Santana wants to answer absolutely everything to do with Elijah, she's tired and just wants to tell someone that they're okay and everything went well. That person being Quinn.
“Fine you can have her back for sixty seconds but then I'm taking the phone back.”
“Whatever, Berry. Just hand the damn phone over.”
Seconds later Quinn's muffled voice comes down the line. “Hey, S. How's Britt?”
Santana tilts her head, temple pressed against the door jam as she stares into the room. Brittany's lying on her side, fast asleep and there's a cot in the corner of the room where Elijah lies. It's not hospital policy but she was pretty damn set on not letting either of them out of her sight. The nurse seemed a bit scared by Santana's cocked brow and tensed jaw and just nodded and told her she might be able to bring in a cot.
“She's fine. Tired, but fine.”
“What about you?”
Santana chuckles but she doesn't know why. “I haven't sleep in the last twenty seven hours and I'm pretty sure my adrenaline of my son's birth is running out.”
“Shit. That's so weird.”
She straightens up. “What?”
“Saying you have a son,” Quinn explains and Santana can imagine the shrug that went with it. “You're a full on adult now.”
“I was a full on adult when I met you.”
“Not really. You were still pretending you weren't madly in love with your best friend and that your marriage was working.”
Santana flinches and glowers. “Fuck you,” she whispers but guesses her friend kind of has a point. “Anyway, pass me back to your midget. She wants to know about Eli.”
“Wow, you're actually going to answer her questions? You're in love already.”
It's not a question, it's a statement and Santana manages a smile. “I can even describe it, Q.”
“Okay, well here's my fiancee—“ Santana doesn't even gag. Apparently she's that tired. “--And be nice.”
She squeezes her eyes shut and scrunches up her face, feeling her muscles ache. “I'll do my best.”
Then Rachel comes on the line and Santana really wishes she'd hung up, but is sort of secretly glad she gets to gush over her son.
Not that she'd ever admit that.
//
She wanders back into the room at some point and slumps down on the chair, hand rubbing over her face and pressing into her eyes to rid the ache behind them. She lets out a long exhale and hangs her head, rolling it from side to side to get the crick out her neck. She has absolutely no idea what time it is but couldn't really give a damn right now. Her son's too her right and her wife's too her right. The lack of sleep means nothing at this precise moment in time.
“San?”
Santana lifts her head and sees her wife blink sleepily at her. “I'm here.”
A hand reaches out for her. “Come here,” she whispers and Santana doesn't let a second pass before she's sliding onto the bed and letting Brittany curl into her, head tucked beneath her chin and hands clasped above her chest. Her own follow it and she rests her head back, allowing her eyes to shut.
They both fall asleep.
//
Barely twenty minutes later Santana woken by the sound of the door opening and a tiny cry.
Seems her body is already programmed for waking up and she shoots from the bed, half-sprinting toward the nurse who's carrying Elijah, covered in blankets, into the room.
“Is he okay? What's wrong?”
The nurse blinks at her, dazed by the questions thrown at her. “Time for another attempt at nursing,” she says after returning to normality. In her arms, Elijah fusses and scrunches up his nose, hands reaching out for something that isn't there.
“Okay, well hand him over and I'll wake Britt up.”
“You sure you don't need any help?”
Santana shakes her head as Elijah's delicately placed into her arms where he curls into her, snuggling down. A soft smile tugs at her lips and her heart expands at least three sizes. How could she have fallen in love with something in such a short amount of time? “No, it's fine. Thank you.”
Giving her a nod, the nurse walks out and Santana makes her way over to the sleeping blonde, perching onto the edge of the bed and shifting Elijah so he's comfortable and steady before reaching over and placing her hand on Brittany's shoulder. She shakes her gently, whispering her name until Brittany begins to stir, rolling slightly and blinking lazily until she sees Santana and Elijah, which causes her to bolt upright, eyes wide and back as straight as a pole.
“What's wrong? Is he okay?” She blurts out, hand snapping to cup Elijah's skull. “Are you okay? What's going on?”
Santana chuckles. “No, babe. Nothing's wrong. We're fine, Eli just needs some feeding.”
Brittany breathes out a heavy exhale and relaxes back, already peeling open her hospital gown. “Oh okay,” she sighs, the fatigue taking over her once again.
Finding it more than adorable, Santana just aids Elijah in nursing and when he's latched on, her phone begins buzzing in her pocket. The intrusion is unwanted and she's pretty it could be Rachel 'cause she wouldn't put it past her to ring half an hour after their last phone call to check for any changes. Just thinking it might be her pisses her off and she leans down to Elijah, pressing a kiss to the back of his skull and then leans up to Brittany.
“Gotta go outside for a second,” she whispers, dusting her lips across Brittany's. “I'll be back in a second.”
Brittany nods and takes Elijah, pulling him to her chest and making sure he doesn't detach as Santana slips out the door.
//
“Berry, I swear to God—“
“Not the fruit you're looking for,” a voice replies. “Who's Berry anyway?”
Santana jerks her head back and looks at the illuminated screen, confused. Then she sees the caller ID and realizes it's not Rachel, quickly returning it to her ear.
“Berry's someone small and annoying,” she says, smiling. “You two would get along swimmingly, actually, Em.”
“Haha,” Brittany's sister fires back, dryly. “Where's my sister, anyway?”
“You rang my phone and you're asking where your sister is?”
“You two are like, stuck together all the time. It's gross.” Santana rolls her eyes but laughs. “So she isn't with you?”
“She's in the room behind me but yeah,” she says. “Why didn't you just ring her?”
“Because she's just popped, Einstein. She's gonna need to sleep and crap, and I'm pretty sure you can't be on your cell in hospitals anyway”
Santana looks around her, seeing a nurse eye her from the nurses station and decides to move to the stairwell. Just in case. “You can when outside the hospital room. Now anyway, I wanna get back to my family so what do you want, squirt?”
“I was just checking to make sure everything was okay. I know my mom and dad talked to Britt earlier but they didn't mention you, so... You know. Just thought I'd check up on you.”
The one thing they never do, her and Emily that is, is ask about how each other are. They do care for each other obviously, and behind all the jokes and the banter, they definitely love each other too, but they never tell each other that. It's just not how they work. Kind of like her and Quinn, they're best friends but they spend the majority of their time together throwing insults and light jabs. And hearing Emily be concerned about it, it kind of makes her smile. Not that she's going to tell Emily that, though.
“Aw, little Emily concerned?”
“Shut up, I'm just asking for Britt. If you're not okay then she isn't so.”
Santana leans back against the wall and crosses one arm over her chest. “Yeah, Em, I'm fine. Tired but fine.”
“Cool... Cool.” It goes silent for a moment and she takes in a deep breath, wondering what to say next. Like she said, they never do this so she doesn't know where to go now. “Anyway, seeing as you can't give Eli my name as the middle one 'cause he's a stupid boy—“
“The stupid boy that's your nephew.”
“--Yeah, whatever. Anyway, 'cause you can't name him Elijah 'Emily' Lopez-Pierce, how about Emilio? Or like, Elmar, or Elmo?”
“Hell no,” Santana almost yells back. “I'm not naming my kid after some weird, fuzzy character from Sesame Street.”
“Fine,” Emily sighs. “How about Emilio? That's pretty close to Emily.”
“No.”
“Elmar?”
“Sounds like a grandpa's name.”
“Emmanuel?”
Santana shakes her head and groans, pushing off the wall with her shoulder blades and walking back into the hospital hallway. “No.”
“Erm... hold on, the page is loading.”
She laughs again and drops her arm, peering around the corner to make sure there aren't any nurses at the station before quickly skipping past and slipping into Brittany's hospital room, leaning back against the door as she shuts it.
“Emmett?”
“A character from Twilight? Really?”
On the bed, Brittany's cradling Elijah and rocking him back and forth in her arms, but her eyes are locked onto Santana. She mouths “who's that?” and Santana smiles as she crosses the room to get to her, pushing her palm over the speaking end of her cell phone as she whispers “Emily” and kisses Brittany in greeting.
“Okay, well there aren't anymore so you gotta choose one of them.”
“I'm going now,” Santana says. “Unless you wanna talk to Britt.”
“No, I'm good, but--“
“Bye, Emily.”
The line clicks off before she even hears Emily's response and throws the phone across the room where it lands on the cushion of the armchair. Her left arm lays across Brittany's legs and her other comes up to toy with Elijah's hand resting just shy of Brittany's breast. It makes her heart clench as she looks at her family but then she sees blue eyes locked onto her face and cocks her head to the side.
“What?”
Brittany shrugs and looks back down to the baby. “Nothing,” she breathes. “What did Emily want?”
Brown eyes narrow but Santana answers anyway, curious as to why Brittany was staring at her. “Just trying to get us to middle name Elijah some random ass names.”
“Santana,” Brittany chides at the curse. “What did she suggest?”
“Emmanuel, Elmar, Emmet, Elmo—“
“As in the thing from Sesame Street?”
Santana grins and bobs her head, stroking over Elijah's wrist with the back of her finger. “Yeah.”
“So... Do you have any thoughts about it?”
She glances up, eyebrows pushed together. “About what?”
Brittany lowers her vision to Elijah who begins spilling milk down her breast, then reels away with a scrunched face and popped open lips. She pulls him away and carefully hands him to Santana who stands, cradles the base of his skull, rests him on her chest and lets his head rest gently on her shoulder. She heads over to the duffel bag they brought with them and unzips it, reaching inside to grab the burping cloth and slide it beneath Elijah’s head before she begins gently patting his back in a circular motion.
She turns back to Brittany, trying to remember where they left the conversation. Oh, right, middle names. “So, yeah, um, do I have any thoughts about what?”
“Middle names for Eli.”
Santana tugs her bottom lip into her mouth, chewing it lightly. “I hadn't really thought about it,” she answers, honestly, walking around the room, still rubbing Elijah's back. “I mean, I was thinking...”
She trails off. Not because she doesn't know what to say but because she's not sure if it's a good idea. Sure, Brittany will appreciate it but... She doesn't know. It seems a bit like she's copying if she suggests what she's thinking. But it would be in honor of the person who owns the name now, she guesses.
“Thinking what?”
Over her shoulder, Elijah lets out a loud burp and Santana feels the milk drip onto her shirt where it's missed the burping cloth. She arches her chest forward, moving toward the bed to hand her son over, the cloth too, before she moves back toward the armchair, reaching to the duffel bag beside it for a new shirt. She's sure she packed one in here somewhere...
“Santana?”
She spins around, hands coming down to the hem of her top to whip it off her body in one swift motion. “Yeah?”
Brittany wipes the milk off Elijah's chin as she speaks. “What were you thinking?”
“I was just—“ her t-shirt gets caught in her mouth and prevents her from speaking for a moment. “—Just thinking something,” she continues and tugs the armchair forward, throwing the dirty shirt on top of the duffel bag simultaneously. She takes a seat and shuffles to the edge, reaching with both hands to grab at her wife and her son, softly. “I don't know. I had an idea but... I don't want you to think I'm like, copying you.” She takes in a deep breath and shakes her head, leaning back. “Don't worry, it's just stupid.
Her thumb rubs over the back of Brittany's hand as she talks, and her eyes drop down to follow the movement. But then the hand beneath hers pull out and stretches to her chin, pinching it lightly and forcing her to look up.
“It won't be stupid,” Brittany's voice is serious and low. “So just tell me.”
“You don't know that.”
“I don't but I know you and I know you're not stupid.”
Santana takes the hand away from her face, tangling their fingers together and covering it with her free hand. Even though Brittany's saying she's not being stupid, she still feels it. The idea isn't exactly original and she can't say she's been thinking about it for a while because truthfully, she's only just thought about it, but she's still wary.
“I was thinking...” she sucks in her lips and takes in a deep breath. “What about your dad?”
Fair eyebrows pull together, Brittany's face scrunching too. “What about him?”
“His name... Neil.” Santana lifts her shoulders and lets her eyes flicker up quickly before dropping once more. “Elijah... Neil... Lopez-Pierce.”
There's a few moments of silence in which Santana's scared to look up. She doesn't know how to react and she knows Neil isn't exactly like, a baby's name—even though obviously it has been at some point—but it's just something of respect. After all, Brittany suggested they name him after Santana's abuelo, and Neil's been an inspiration after the events of the past few years. He's strong and Santana knows this is a good idea, but she's worried. Even if she doesn't know why.
“You'd do that?”
She whips her head up, seeing the unbridled excitement beam through glassy, blue eyes. “Well, yeah,” she says through a shrug. “I mean... Your dad's basically my dad and, he's been amazing to us.” She shrugs again, not quite knowing why. “He's been through much and is so strong and, I don't know. I think he deserves to be included. I mean, my family is, too so—“
“Kiss me,” Brittany cuts in, waving her hand in the air to beckon Santana. “Just—come here and kiss me.”
Santana doesn't protest, just stretches up, using her palms to support her weight and presses their lips together. The kiss is warm, Brittany's lips too and Santana's eyes flutter shut as she smiles into her wife's mouth. They pull back, keeping the kiss short because Elijah's still in Brittany's arms and god only knows they get carried away sometimes, and then they're both looking down at their child, their baby, their son and smiling together.
“Elijah Neil Lopez-Pierce,” Santana sighs, because this moment doesn't feel real. She can't believe she's finally got the girl and the family. It's just... It's incredible.
“Yeah, baby, Elijah Neil Lopez-Pierce. Our son.”
Santana just sighs.
//
Brittany has to stay overnight again according to standard hospital guidelines and when the nurse comes in to tell them this, Santana's all ready for a nights sleep in the armchair, but Brittany throws her a look and she freezes in the middle of the hospital room.
“What?”
“You're not going to sleep in the chair, babe,” Brittany whispers as Elijah sleeps gently against her chest.
Santana eyes the floor, warily. “The floor's a bit cold and that bed isn't big enough for us both.”
“I know, but I think you should just go home for tonight and have a good nights sleep. You haven't slept for more than twenty minutes since we got here.”
She wants to argue but apparently the man upstairs is out to get her because she begins yawning before she can even come back with a reply. Brittany lifts a brow in her direction in that told you so manner and Santana rolls her eyes. Her wife does have a point, she guesses. She hasn't really slept all that much and she doesn't even know what day it is but she just wants to stay here with Brittany and Eli. She doesn't want to leave them.
“You haven't slept that much more,” she finally retorts, falling into the chair beside the bed and kicking her feet up.
“I've had way more sleep than you, San. Honestly,” Brittany says, stroking her hand over Elijah's dark hair. “Just go home and sleep tonight.”
Santana can feel another yawn coming on but fights it with everything inside of her. She's stubborn and frankly, she doesn't want to even think about leaving her family, let alone actually doing it. “Britt, I'm fine. I just wanna stay here with you and Eli.”
“San,” Brittany says in her warning tone. “You can come back as soon as you wake up tomorrow and take us home.”
“No, I don't want to.”
“Well you're going to.”
Santana tilts her head to the side. “Britt,” she deadpans, fighting her corner.
“San,” Brittany mirrors in the same manner but chuckles afterward. “Baby, please go home. You look like—poo,” she lands on, pulling her lips down at the side and glancing at the baby. Oh right, yeah, the no swearing thing.
“Thanks, Britt,” Santana says, flatly, but yawns straight afterward, stretching her arms into the air before letting them fall back down against the chair. “Okay, I am tired,” she finally admits when she notices the blue eyes staring at her with no amusement whatsoever. They stare at her for long moments, and she swears they're acting worming their way into her mind and switching her decision because she finds herself giving in. Then again, she always gives into what Brittany wants. What Brittany wants, Brittany gets. It's always been like that. “Fine!” She half-yells, shaking her head and leaning forward. “I'll go home, tonight, jheeze.”
“Good,” Brittany beams, brightly, showing all her teeth through a grin and lifting her hand to poke at Elijah's lower lip as it drops open, tiny snores coming from his mouth.
Santana just rolls her eyes.
//
The moment she gets home, she already wants to go back to the hospital.
It's dark, and cold, and lonely and really, really empty. The apartment just feels too big without Brittany and Santana walks around the place, flinching at the sound of her own footsteps because she's never taken notice of them before. Not whilst Brittany was there, lingering somewhere in the apartment. She stops when she gets to the bedroom and stares at the bed, inhaling deeply and letting her eyes flutter shut as Brittany's scent hits her.
She just stands there and stares for at least five minutes, looking between each side of the bed and sighing, just knowing she's going to be sleeping alone tonight.
She remembers back when Sophie first moved to California and Santana had to go back to her apartment because she didn't have an excuse to stay at Brittany's anymore, how crappy that night was. Luckily, it didn't exactly last long but the length of time she spent lying in bed alone, staring at the right side of the bed and frowning at how the sheets were still perfectly intact was freaking awful.
And if she stays in that bed, the same thing will happen and she just can't sleep in that bed alone, so she walks back through the apartment, stopping at the hallway closet to grab a blanket and two pillows before heading to the living room. It's a little better, and she settles down onto the couch, flicking on the TV to some boring documentary and leans back against her arm, drumming her other hand against her stomach and thinking of how tomorrow, she gets to bring her son and her wife back home.
She can't think of anything better.
//
The moment she's beginning to drift off to sleep, her phone begins buzzing on the floor next to her. She reaches down blindly and swipes at it, wincing and squinting at the brightness of the screen as she punches in her code and brings up the text. It's Brittany of course, and there's a picture attached to it, too and she opens it right away, revealing a sleepy Brittany, mostly snuggled behind the robe Santana bought her from home, and Elijah's lying on his back, arms and legs spread out starfish style, but he's quite obviously asleep. The caption is barely an inch below and she begins welling up as she reads it.
We're missing you over here. Elijah can't wait to come home tomorrow!
Santana sucks in her lips to stop the tears from flowing and shakes her head, knowing that Brittany wants her right now but also knows the hospital probably wouldn't take too kindly to her barging in and demanding to stay with her wife. She's pretty sure that's why they have security at that place. She doesn't even hesitate in texting back.
That's not fair, Britt Britt. I wanna be with you two. Can I ring you?
She taps her screen and stares at her phone after she sends it, just waiting. The picture is still on screen and she sighs as she looks at it. She really would do anything to be snuggled up with Elijah and Brittany right now. Anything. Her phone vibrates and she snatches quickly before the screen can fade.
For a minute. I don't want to wake Eli or piss any of the nurses off.
Santana grins and doesn't hesitate in calling her wife, bringing the phone to her ear and rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling.
“Hey, baby.”
“Thought we weren't allowed to swear,” she says in lieu of a greeting.
Brittany giggles quietly down the line. “I wrote it, it's not the same.”
“So if I write down my swear words I can swear?”
“You're so silly,” Brittany replies, voice hushed. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Santana says honestly. She's not. She's alone in a dark, lonely house when her newborn son and wife are somewhere else. She's pretty crappy. “I wanna be with you.”
“You will be tomorrow, San. It's only a few hours away.”
Making a disproving grunt, she rolls onto her stomach and presses her chin into the pillow, staring at the headboard. “I don't care,” she whines. “I wanna be with you now.”
The sound of Brittany giggling beneath her breath almost makes Santana run out her apartment and to the hospital. “Baby, don't do that. We wanna be with you, too, but you need some sleep and so do we.”
“Does this mean you're going?” She pouts, voice dropping with sadness.
“Stop pouting, it's making me pout, too,” Brittany replies and Santana's pout turns into a grin. “And yeah. Elijah keeps stirring and rolling and he needs one last feed before we go to sleep.”
“Okay,” she draws out. “Fine. But this sucks, Britt Britt. I'm going to be at the hospital bright and early tomorrow.”
“You better be. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“Not possible.”
“Think it is.”
Brittany giggles and Santana can hear her wife shaking her head. “Nope, definitely not, but we've really gotta go now, honey. Elijah says goodnight.”
She breathes out heavily and pinches her lips up at the side. “Kiss him goodnight for me.”
“What about me?”
She grins and rolls again, chuckling into the air. “You can't kiss yourself, Britt.”
“I can imagine you kissing me,” Brittany drawls, and Santana can hear the suggestiveness of her tone.
“Well do it innocently because our son is lying next to you and kiss yourself goodnight for me. A few times. Three or four tops. No, wait, make it six. Or seven. Screw it, go for ten.”
Her wife laughs quietly as she speaks. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too. Night Britt.”
“Night, baby.”
The line goes dead and until the moment she falls asleep, Santana stares at the picture of her son and her wife.
//
Brittany's already changing Elijah into another outfit, her ready-to-see-your-home outfit as Brittany had called it, when Santana arrives at the hospital room.
She throws another duffel onto the floor, full of baby clothes and Brittany's clothes, onto the floor and immediately shoots to her wife, wrapping Brittany up in a backwards hug and letting one hand lay across her stomach—shocked by the sudden flatness of it—whilst the other adjusts the footing of Elijah's babygrow. Brittany leans back into her, and finishes doing up the velcro of Elijah's clothing before standing upright and laying her arms over the tanned ones around her waist.
“I missed you,” Santana murmurs, nuzzling into her neck.
Brittany twists in her arms, hands coming up to cup her cheeks. “We missed you too,” she replies through a pout, already ducking her head to kiss Santana quickly before spinning back to their son. She picks Elijah up and sits back on the side of the bed, wincing, probably because she's still sore and Santana just stares at her, concerned. She hates seeing Brittany in pain, or in discomfort or whatever.
“You okay?”
Brittany manages a pained smile but nods and holds out Elijah. “Yeah,” she says. “But can you hold him for a moment?”
“Sure.” Santana cradles her son carefully, resting his head her shoulder and gently rubbing his back seeing as it's 8:15 and he would've had his feeding at 8. “Do you need me to get you something?”
Brittany's palms press into the mattress and she closes her eyes, sucking in her lips as she shuffles onto the bed. “No, I'm just sore.”
“Aw, baby, I hate this.”
“The nurse said I'll be fine in a few days,” she says, slowly moving to her feet. “I'll just have to adjust to sitting down until then.”
Santana nods and begins bumping her body up and down as Elijah drools onto her neck. She doesn't care, though. “Okay, well tell me if I can do anything.”
Brittany flashes her a grateful smile and moves around the room, slowly picking up and packing the clothing into the duffel bags, but only stopping when her phone vibrates. She moves to it and picks it up, thumbing across the screen and smiling at whatever was sent.
“Who's that?” Santana asks, intrigued as Elijah burps over her shoulder. There's going to be more drool there now, but that's part of having a baby, right?
“Rachel. She said she wants to come over as soon as we're back.”
“Oh hell no, she ain't holding my kid,” Santana defends, hand reaching up to cup the back of Eli's head.
Brittany just throws her a look.
//
Santana's on the edge of her seat from the moment Brittany hands Elijah to Rachel. Her nails dig into the arms of the chair she's in and her eyes never stray from the brunette as she sings quietly into his ear and strokes his head tenderly. Admittedly, Rachel's actually handling Eli a lot better than Santana expected, and she can tell just from this that Rachel's already in love with the idea of having a kid, which makes Santana smirk as her eyes drift to Quinn, sitting on the sofa and staring wide eyed at her fiancee. She's totally crapping it.
Santana kicks the bottom of the sofa to grab her friends attention. “You look like you're shitting bricks over there.”
Hazel eyes slide in her direction. “Swear to God if I get home and she asks for a kid I'm gonna kick your ass, Lopez.”
“I didn't do shit,” she defends, lifting her hands beside her in a surrendering gesture. “We've been expecting this for nine months so you should've prepared for it.”
Quinn glares at her until Santana looks away and laughs, eying her wife in the kitchen. They've been home for most of the day now and surprising enough, it was Brittany that told Rachel and Quinn that they couldn't come over until the evening because they needed to settle in and everything. Quinn said it was fair and Rachel complained. No shock there.
“You don't want kids, then?”
“I do, just... Not yet. It's too soon. Plus I don't want to become a sap just yet.”
“I'm not a sap,” Santana snaps but relaxes when Brittany's eyes slide in her direction. “And we thought that having baby would've been too soon, too, but,” she shrugs to pause her sentence. “Eli really is the best thing that's ever happened to us. Beside you know, falling in love and all that romantic crap.”
“Charming, Santana,” Quinn fires back but reaches for her bottle of beer, taking a long pull. “And I know but we don't have the advantages that you two did,” she nods to Santana's groin. “So ours won't be a surprise.”
Santana leans over and smacks her friend on the back of the head. “Shut it, Q. You're making it sound like it was a bad thing.”
“Shit, Lopez, there was no need for that,” her friend complains, rubbing the back of her head and glowering. “And it's not like you were planning for Eli, was it?”
“No, but it was a welcome surprise.”
Hazel eyes roll and Santana smirks as she settles back into the chair, watching Brittany glide into the room and drop a kiss to Elijah's head before telling Rachel it's time for his feed now. Santana instantly jolts up from her chair and grabs the nursing pillow, letting her wife take her previous seat and setting the pillow in her lap before reaching for Elijah.
Except Rachel twirls away and Santana dips her head, eyebrow lifting.
“I'm perfectly capable of handling a baby, Santana,” Rachel says moving past her to get to Brittany.
“And I'm perfectly capable of making sure you never see the light of day, hobbit so give me my son.”
The threat works apparently because Rachel stares at her wide eyed before holding out Elijah and letting Santana take him. She instantly melts the moment he's in her arms, and she coos, running her thumb across his tanned cheek as she walks toward her wife. She bends into a crouch, and slowly passes him to Brittany, dropping a kiss to his tiny little nose before, and when she straightens up she realizes Quinn's smirking at her from across the room.
“What you staring at, Fabgay?” Santana spits, straightening up.
Quinn smirks. “And you said you weren't a sap.”
Santana just throws a pillow at her.
//
Later on when they've put Elijah to bed in their room—they moved the cot in there this afternoon after releasing how attached they are—which may or may not have taken like, forty five minutes because Santana nor Brittany wanted to part with their son, and Rachel and Quinn have gone, they're getting ready for bed, brushing their teeth and bumping their hips together, smirking at each other in the mirror.
They both spit out at the same time, holding their hair behind their neck and Santana grins at her wife, unable to resist leaning over and stealing a kiss as they pull back.
Brittany tilts her head the moment Santana pulls back. “What was that for?”
She shrugs. “For being you, I don't know,” she tries, not entirely sure why she did that. She just loves Brittany.
Brittany's face lights up and she switches off the tap with one hand whilst the other curls around a tanned neck, cupping it and tugging on it until they're kissing again, this time a little deeper, a lot slower, and a lot longer. Santana's mind begins to dizzy and her eyes flutter as a warm wet tongue flicks against her lip. She hasn't kissed Brittany like this in like, three days and for them that's like two weeks. She smiles against her wife's mouth, giggling when the blonde presses closer, their chests pushing up against each other and Brittany squirms as tanned fingertips dip beneath the hem of her top, tracing up her ribs and around to the small of her back.
But all good things come to an end, especially with their newborn son in the other room and Santana breaks the kiss, breathing hard and ignoring the way arousal throbs through her. With this whole pregnancy thing, she and Brittany have been at it like rabbits, and it's been five days since they last made love. Five days. That really is too long in their terms and she's desperately wishing that they could maybe have a quickie in the bathroom but it's not a good idea.
And they have other priorities right now. Even if their main priority is asleep right now.
“Come on,” she pants, licking her lips, shaking her head and stepping back completely, offering out a hand. “Let's go to bed.”
Brittany smiles and grabs the tanned hand with both of hers, bouncing as they both enter the bathroom and slide into bed, gravitating to the middle and wrapping themselves up in each other. Their noses squash together and Santana lets her eyes fall shut as she inhales the scent of vanilla and honeycomb wafting up from Brittany's scent. Her heart flutters and she can't help but press their lips together quickly, letting her lips brush up and catch Brittany's nose as she pulls away, earning a quiet giggle that makes her stomach flip and a smile grow across her face.
“Hey, San?”
Santana blinks and looks over her shoulder toward the cot, just in case. “Yeah, Britt?”
“We've got our own family.”
It's said with such excitement and joy that Santana almost jumps up and starts doing the celebratory dance that always makes Brittany laugh so hard her lungs begin hurting, but she resists it and instead pull her wife closer with the arm wrapped around a slim waist and nuzzles into her cheek.
“Yeah, baby, we've got our own family now,” she whispers, lips ghosting over Brittany's.
And she almost gets to kiss her. Almost being the key word because the moment she moves in closer, Elijah begins crying from across the room and Brittany pulls back, eyes frantic and shocked. But Santana just pushes a hand to her shoulder and presses her down to the bed, dropping a peck to her lips and whispering “I've got it” as she rolls out off the mattress and heads over to the cot.
It doesn't matter if she doesn't get any sleep, though.
It doesn't matter if she has to spend fifteen minutes wandering around the house with Elijah on her shoulder and her hand patting his back, either.
It doesn't even matter if she has to pick up a triple espresso and glug down a gallon of coffee tomorrow morning.
It just doesn't matter.
Because she's finally got the perfect family.
And that... That's all that matters.