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Brittana is Endgame
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 leigh-kelly said: "You know, it's been over 24 hours, and the hatred for us may have died down. I was thinking about when Santana and Brittany are back in New York, and they have their friends over for dinner, and Quinn comes out from Connecticut because "It's important, Fabray, don't make me slap you." Santana refuses to let Brittany help make dinner, because she "should be resting," and even more than with her family, she's guarded, because it's a big deal, and she hates other people seeing her important things."








Santana isn’t even sure she wants the dinner thing to happen, would it really be so bad if they waited until the baby was born or something? I mean, she knows they can’t keep it a secret forever but.. it’s just.. she doesn’t know if she wants to share yet. And so help her god if Fabray guesses it before they have a chance to tell her… She’s cut from her musings by Brittany strolling into the kitchen and stealing a piece of carrot from the cutting board on the counter. 

"Are you sure I can’t help you, San? I can cut up the rest of the vegetables for you?"

"No! No, because you should be resting and what if you slip and cut yourself and it causes stress on the baby??"

"What is this, an infomercial?? I’m going to slip in our kitchen that we cook in all the time and cut my arm off?" 

"Just, I got it baby. I’m almost done anyways, I just need to chop those veggies and put them in the soup."

Before Brittany can argue, the doorbell rings signaling Quinns arrival. Brittany makes her way over and opens the door revealing Quinn holding a bottle of wine.  

"Hey Britt!"

"Hey Quinn, come in! How was the train ride?"

"It was okay, i’m glad i’m finally here though." 

"Us too! San is in the kitchen, let me take that bottle for you."

"Wait, Santana is cooking?"

They round the corner just in time to see Santana putting a lid on the soup pot, “FYI, I cook all the time Fabray.”

"Sure you do, Lopez. I grabbed a bottle of wine on the way over here, do you guys want to go ahead and have a glass while you tell me this "important" news?"

Brittany and Santana look at each other quickly, before quietly declining.

"Since when do either of you decline alcohol?"  

"Should we tell her now then?" Santana whispered into Brittany’s ear not so quietly.

"Tell me what? Are you in AA or something?"

"Really, Quinn? No we’re not in AA." 

"So, whats the deal?" Quinn asked suspiciously.

"Um, well…"  

The sound of the doorbell again shoots relief through Santana’s entire system. She’s not sure she can do this more than once. She’s so careful with her special things, and this is the MOST special. After the proposal fiasco, she’s fairly certain that if someone else says something publicly disagreeing with their life choices, the choices that make THEM happy, then she’ll absolutely snap. This is her BABY, this incredible thing that she and Brittany are over the moon about, and she doesn’t need anything tainting it.

"Come with me to get the door?" Santana requests softly, and Brittany nods. Quinn knows them well enough to know not to question, and she pours herself a glass of wine and heads over to the couch.

"Are you alright?" Brittany asks, cupping Santana’s cheek and looking deep into her eyes.

"Mmhm." Santana tries, casting down her eyes.

"You’re not, honey. I know that they’re all really judgmental sometimes, but they do love us. And no matter what, WE are happy, this is OUR thing. We’re not telling them for their approval, we’re telling them because we can’t exactly hide a baby. San, I’m twelve weeks pregnant, I can only blame an addiction to chocolate cake for so long."

"I love you." Santana laughs, kissing Brittany’s lips and running her hand over the tiny little pouch that Brittany hides under her loose top. "And you’re right. I know you’re right. I just get all…something around them."

"Because you love so hard, and you care so much. It’s one of the things I love most about you, and one of the things I hope most that our baby gets from you."

"Okay." Santana inhales deeply, centering herself, and holding fast to Brittany’s hand. "Let’s do this."

They make their way to the front door and Santana takes a deep breath before pasting on an aloof and completely suspicious look. Brittany rolls her eyes playfully before opening to door to Kurt and Rachel bickering on the other side. 

"I didn’t say you were ugly Rachel, all I said was that maybe a bright pink Pea coat with lime green stockings wasn’t the best choice!" Kurt whispered exasperatedly.  

"Lady Lips, Liza. Welcome to our home. And for the record, Kurt’s right, Rachel," Santana said while ushering them inside. 

Quinn waved at them from the kitchen with her mostly empty glass of wine. 

"Ohh wine! I didn’t realize this was a fancy occasion or i would’ve brought some hors d’oeuvre’s" Rachel lamented before gravitating towards Quinn. 

"It’s not fancy, Quinn’s just weird," Santana grumbles not so quietly, receiving a soft slap on her arm from Brittany.

Santana heads into the kitchen to make sure the soup is almost done while the rest of the crew heads to the living room. It’s almost time, they’re just waiting on Mercedes and then they’ll have to spill their most precious secret. She knows Brittany is right, it doesn’t matter what their friends opinion is on the matter, all that matters is that this is their lives and their future, but she can’t help but hope that they’re happy for them and don’t go on a tirade about their age and their futures and blah blah blah.  

"I brought tequila!" Santana hears Mercedes call out, once the doorbell rings, and she finds herself rolling her eyes, thinking about how painfully young all her friends suddenly seem. In comparison, she feels all grown up, thinking about how she and Brittany had just spent their Saturday night curled up on the couch together researching window safety bars, rather than barhopping. 

"Honestly, you’re all making Kurt and I feel like terrible houseguests." Rachel laments, and Brittany snickers a little to herself.

"You are terrible houseguests.” Santana emerges from the kitchen, setting the pot of soup down on the table. “Dinner’s ready and Britt needs to eat, so sit.”

They all gather around the table, and though Rachel and Kurt seem pretty oblivious, Mercedes and Quinn exchange a glance over Santana, who seems more attentive, even, than usual, and the way Brittany looks like she might actually cry, because she’s so happy Santana ladled out a bowl of soup for her.

"San." Brittany whimpers, spitting her first bite of soup back into her bowl, and grabbing Santana’s water glass to chug, alarming her wife. "What’s in this?”

"Oh my God. Is it bad? Berry, taste the soup right now." Santana orders, dropping the ladle she was using to dish out Quinn’s soup and racing to Brittany’s side.

"Why should I be the one to taste it, Santana? I have a big audition the day after tomorrow, and if there’s something in here that will make me ill, it could negatively impact my entire future."

"I knew I should have picked up a pizza on the way." Mercedes rolls her eyes, and frustrated by everyone in the room, Santana, with one hand rubbing Brittany’s stomach below the table, spoons some of Brittany’s soup into her mouth, completely unaffected by the fact that she’d just spit into the bowl.

"Baby." She breathes a heavy sigh of relief that it tastes perfectly fine, relief that she didn’t accidentally poison her wife and unborn baby. "It tastes totally normal to me."

"It tastes like…potatoes." Brittany wrinkles her nose, entirely disgusted by that.

"Obviously, it’s potato-leek soup." Kurt feels the need to point out, and Santana glares at him.

"I’m sorry, honey." Brittany pouts, and Santana can’t help but kiss her softly, concern still tugging at her. "I know you worked hard on it, but I don’t think I like-" Brittany fights back a gag at the word. "-potatoes anymore."

Quinn lays her spoon down beside her bowl slowly before flicking her eyes between Santana and Brittany. 

"Alright, whats going on? Santana, you’ve hovering over Brittany like she’s got broken limbs, and Brittany, I know for a fact that you love potatoes in any form. In fact, i remember you and Mike having a french fry eating contest quite recently, which you won by the way. And to top it off, you two aren’t drinking, which is the most suspicious thing of all." 

"They’re not drinking?" Kurt asks with alarm.

"Why aren’t you drinking? I thought this was a soiree? We always drink when we get together," Rachel rambles.

"Jesus, No, we aren’t drinking. Is it so hard to believe that we want to have an evening with our friends that doesn’t involve getting wasted?" Santana responds with exasperation. To which she is met with a resounding Yes from everyone. 

Brittany places her hand over Santana’s hand on her belly, “San, maybe we just should tell them now.” 

Turning to face Brittany, Santana takes a deep breath a nods, “Okay babe, I guess there’s really no reason to put it off since everyone is here now.” 

Brittany leans over and presses a kiss to Santana’s cheek before motioning for her to stand up with her, “We have some news we wanted to share with you guys, since you’re our closest friends.”

Santana’s hand is still on Brittany’s belly, cradling their unborn child in the most delicate way. She sees 4 sets of eyes take notice of her hand placement and widen but she steels herself and keeps talking. 

"We just wanted to tell you guys that, uh, B and I, we’re having a baby. Britt’s pregnant." 

"Pregnant?" Quin gasps. "Pregnant?"

"Yeah. I’m pretty sure you’re familiar with the word." Santana snickers, and Brittany presses her hand a little further into her belly, silently reminding her of the conversation they’d had a few nights prior, about how Santana was really trying to get her snark under control before the baby came.

"Just over twelve weeks." Brittany informs them, and watches as Santana’s eyes get that misty sheen over them. "She’s the size of a lime now."

She?” Kurt claps his hands, and the five girls can almost see him designing tiny dresses in his head.

"Or he. We don’t find out until next week, but for now, we’re alternating, being gender inclusive and all that." Santana taps her fingers where they lie, silently telling the little one, for the hundredth time, that she’ll love them no matter who they are, who they love, what they do, and Brittany presses an affectionate kiss to her wife’s temple.

"You’re twenty-three." Rachel manages, seemingly the most stunned of all of them. "And your careers are just getting started."

"It’s entirely possible to have a baby and a career." Santana stiffens a little, bracing herself, and Brittany holds her closer. "This is what we want. And it’s not exactly like this was an accident.”

"I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be offensive. It’s just, wow, I didn’t think any of us would be having kids anytime soon. We’re still kids.”

"We’re not though." Mercedes quickly jumps to their defense, having learned enough about the dynamic of Brittany and Santana while touring with them, and, seeing Brittany’s thumb circling the pulse point on Santana’s risk, knows that she’s trying to keep her wife calm. "This is great! Wait until Aunt ‘Cedes spoils this kid rotten.”

"And Aunt Quinn."

"And Uncle Kurt."

"Rachel?" Mercedes looks at her expectantly, hoping she’ll follow suit.

"I just need a minute." Tears well up in Rachel’s eyes, and she walks briskly out of the room

Brittany looks over with concern and she can see tears shining in Santana’s eyes. They both knew that this might happen, but they hadn’t quite worked out what they would do if it did. They had both assumed that if worse come to worse, Brittany would be the weepy one. Now that she thinks about it, Brittany’s not quite sure why, Santana holds her friendships very close and this probably feels exactly like a punch in the gut.  

The remaining three in the room are looking between the two of them and the bathroom that Rachel disappeared into.

"Shit," Quinn whispered into the silent room.

"I’ll go talk to her," Kurt offers, preparing to stand from the table.

"No, I’m going."

Three heads whip around to face Brittany, who is looking a bit angry, murderous might be a better word. 

"Um, do you think that’s a good idea, Britt?" Quinn asks tentatively, "You and Rachel haven’t ever been exactly close.."

"Exactly," Brittany says resolutely before making her way to the bathroom and pounding on the door.

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