Disclaimer: Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce are not my creation. They belong to the Fox show Glee. The other characters and this story are mine so please do not use any part of it without my written consent. (copyright: 12-19-11) Also, as always, my characters curse...and the song referenced was written by Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane for the awesome MGM musical Meet Me In St. Louis, starring the epic Judy Garland.

Have Yourselves a Merry Little Christmas

By mamatots (KB)

December 23, 2029

Manhattan, NY

The doorbell rang, and a short but slightly overweight Portuguese woman, dressed in a light gray housekeeping uniform with a crisp, white apron, moved quickly toward the front door.

"Oh no no no…j'ous cannot leave d'ese in the hallway like dis," she said firmly to two young delivery men, grabbing one of them by his muscular bicep and pointing his attention to the oversized, red crates sitting in the entryway of the penthouse apartment.

"Where you want 'em then…they won't all fit in the kitchen," the dark-skinned man responded in an equally thick accent of some unknown origin.

"D'en you needs to move d'em to de side…over d'ere," she pointed with authority as the doorbell chimed again.

"Amelia…it's ok…Shawn is having the staff unpack the dinnerware and glasses right now…," a dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties stepped from inside the brightly-lit, bustling kitchen to calm the older woman, running a gentle touch over her shoulder to redirect her, "…they will be able to remove all the crates when they leave…now, just answer the door please."

"J'es, Ms. P-L," Amelia said respectfully with a slight nod of her head toward the taller woman.

As the dedicated maid moved toward the large, black-painted door and turned the polished, silver doorknob, she heard her boss tell the delivery men, "Go ahead and pull those two empty crates out of the kitchen then move these here up on the center island."

Amelia opened the oversized front door of the apartment to find another delivery man with a large rolling cart that was filled with fresh flower arrangements. "Ms. P-L…de flowers are here," Amelia shouted over her right shoulder.

"Thank you, Amelia…now go see what help Shawn might need," she told her, sending the well-intended woman to search out the brunette's personal assistant, turning back toward the flower arrangements, "…these are magnificent, Gerald!"

"White and red…just as you requested," the older man said with a proud smile of accomplishment, "…your wife will be surprised tonight, yes?"

"Brittany will love them!" the Latina exclaimed, "I don't think she suspects a thing."

"I can't believe it's already been fifteen years…," he told her as he set one of the largest bouquets on top of the white-marbled table which was situated in the center of the penthouse's entry, "…time flies, doesn't it, Santana?"

"It certainly does, Gerald…and your recreations are superb…these look identical to those from our wedding reception."

"Just more of them now that your budget has increased…," he joked playfully with a wink, "Now you go worry with another detail, ok?...I'll place these around the living room…then I have all of the poinsettias for the entryway down in my van."

"Great…I trust you to handle that…," Santana said as she looked back toward the activity in the kitchen, alarmed, "…oh wait, stop…okay, guys…please be careful with that stemware…Shawn…please make sure they stack it gently over on the side table."

Santana watched as her assistant guided uniformed wait-staff to a side table in the massive living room. The table had already been set up with a large polished, silver punch bowl and ladle, and she saw the bartender who was icing down several bottles of champagne.

One of the girls in uniform began to set up the champagne flutes as instructed by Shawn, stopping a moment to admire the view of the Manhattan skyline she saw out of the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows.

"Mrs. Pierce-Lopez?" the head waiter called to her, drawing her attention over toward another table where silver service trays were being arranged.

"Yes?" Santana turned and acknowledged him.

"Did you want the dessert table set up at the same time…or did you want to hold those back until later in the party?"

"Let's set those out at the same time…if I know my wife…she'll skip all the appetizers and go straight for the pastries," Santana winked at him jovially.

"Ma'am? I just wanted to take this opportunity to tell you that I'm a huge fan," the waiter said with awe in his voice, "I saw you four times in Both Sides Now…you definitely earned that Tony Award."

"Thank you…I appreciate it…I'm very proud of that accomplishment," Santana smiled sweetly, never quite used to being praised by strangers everywhere she went, "Though I think my old friend Rachel Berry thought she had that in the bag that year."

The young blond laughed at Santana's joke, "Rachel Berry is awesome too…but 2027 was your year!"

Santana's eyes sparkled, wishing Rachel were there to hear that, making a mental note to tell her the next time she and Brittany met Rachel and Quinn for dinner.

"Ms. P-L…the front desk is calling for you," Amelia approached her boss to say.

"Thank you, Amelia…," the Latina said, turning back toward the wait staff, "Excuse me please."

Santana made her way over to a small cordless handset near the front door, picking it up and putting it to her ear, "Hello?"

"Mrs. Pierce-Lopez?" a masculine voice asked to clarify.

"Yes?"

"There is a young lady here to see you…she says it is very important."

"Who is it?" Santana asked, not anticipating guests this early.

There was a pause while the front desk security officer mumbled something. "She says her name is Emily Pierce."

"Oh…okay…send her right up," Santana advised, excited but confused by the randomness of her visitor, then hung up the phone.

"Santana…they're finished with unpacking the dinnerware…," a tall, handsome guy in his late thirties told her as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Thanks, Shawn," Santana said.

"Once these guys clear out the crates then we can do a final walk through before the caterers start setting out the food," he advised.

"Sounds great," she agreed, stepping aside for the men to pass through the entry, each pushing a dolly stacked with several now-empty crates.

"Santana?" a young blonde in her mid-twenties said softly as she stepped inside the opened front door, entering the controlled chaos that was coming to a close inside the Pierce-Lopez penthouse apartment.

The Latina turned around and smiled broadly, "Emily!"

Santana took several steps toward the young girl with her arms outstretched.

Emily leaned forward to hug her sister-in-law, keeping some of the distance between them, fidgeting nervously as the two girls pulled apart. "I missed you," Emily said, starting to unbutton her heavy overcoat.

"We've missed you too…Britt will be so excited to see you…she doesn't even know you're stateside…your mother told us you were in Paris through February," Santana told her.

"Mom thinks that's where I am," Emily grimaced.

Without missing a beat or picking up on her young sister-in-law's vagueness, Santana added, "You came on a great night…I'm hosting a surprise holiday party this evening for mine and Britt's anniversary."

"Oh right…fifteen years tomorrow, huh?" Emily acknowledged, "Gosh, that Christmas eve seems like a lifetime ago."

"That's because you were only ten…," Santana playfully pushed on the end of the blonde's nose, "…everything seems forever ago when you're little."

"Well…I'm all grown up now…believe it or not," she told the older brunette, "…more grown up then you might think."

"Oh, I believe it…but you'll always be that little squirt to me," Santana winked at her.

"So Brittany doesn't know about tonight?" Emily asked, stepping out of the way when a uniformed girl walked past her with a large serving dish.

"I hope not…I had to wait until she left for the theater this afternoon before we could start setting everything up."

"When does the new show open?" Emily inquired.

"Second week of January…the director is having her rework the choreography for the first act's closing number…she's been rather tense lately…so I wanted to surprise her."

"That's very romantic."

"Well…actually…I have another surprise for her this Christmas…so I thought…why not go big?" the Latina stooped over and started moving some of the flower pots in the entry way.

"Yeah…that's sort of why I'm here, San…," Emily's tone turned serious as she eased her arm out of her large coat, "I need to tell you guys something…something that Mom and Dad don't know about."

"Are you coming out to us, Em?" Santana teased with a giggle at her own joke, pausing her arranging of the pots of bright red poinsettias which lined the wall of the circular entryway and looking up at Emily, "…oh wow, Em."

"Surprise!" Emily said sarcastically with a nervous laugh, her hands resting on her round stomach, protruding in front of her.

"You're pregnant?" Santana responded in shock.

"Well, I wish I could say I just had a very large meal on the plane…but I flew economy, so…."

"Oh Emily…," Santana straightened up to full height and leaned to hug the young blonde, "…sweetie, how far along are you?"

"Nearly eight months."

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Santana asked, "Is this why you've been avoiding everyone?"

"I don't know…it was just such a shock when I found out…I kept thinking if I came up with a plan then nobody would be mad at me…but I never thought of a plan."

"We would never be mad at you…we love you…and your parents love you…but I hate that you've gone through this without your family…," Santana said sadly, inquiring, "Is the baby Blake's?"

"Yes…and he was excited at first…but then his agency sent him to Milan…and now he won't even return my calls."

"Oh, honey…I'm sorry…here, let's go into my office…give me your coat…Amelia?" Santana called to her maid as she ushered Emily toward a doorway off the main entry.

"Yes ma'am?" the older woman appeared immediately from the left hallway.

"You remember Brittany's sister, Emily?" Santana introduced them, not sure if Amelia remembered the young runway model who passed through New York City on her way to London last Christmas.

The graying maid nodded her recognition and smiled, taking the overcoat she was being handed by her boss.

"Merry Christmas, Amelia…," Emily returned the smile, knowing how much a part of her sister's family the nurturing Portuguese woman had become over the last three years since Brittany and Santana moved to their penthouse.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Emily," Amelia returned the sentiment, looking a moment at Emily's very pregnant belly.

"Ask Shawn to hold all my calls for the next half-hour," Santana instructed, walking into the office.

"But Ms. P-L…your guests will arrive soon…you still need to dress," Amelia worried.

Santana looked down at her watch. 6:52 PM. Damn, she thought…Britt will be here soon.

"Okay, Em…change of plans, kiddo…come with me and let's find you something you can where to the party," Santana pulled her by the wrist back out into the entryway.

"I could just hide in the corner behind the Christmas tree…," Emily joked sarcastically, spotting the majestic, decorated tree in the living room, "…that's the only thing big enough to hide my shame from Britt."

"Stop it…there is nothing to be ashamed about…this announcement will just fit in perfectly with my other surprise for her tonight," Santana said with an upbeat tone, "Amelia…when Brittany gets here…just send her back to the bedroom…and be sure not to spoil the surprise of Emily's arrival, ok?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Absolutely ridiculous! Let's run it again from the top!"

Brittany looked back over her left shoulder at her director and her producer who sat together half-way back in the center orchestra section before she looked down at her watch. 7:22 PM. Damn, she thought…I need to get home. She had promised Santana earlier in the day that she would be home no later than 7:30 pm. The tall blonde had pretended to know nothing, but she could sense her wife was planning something special for their anniversary this year. If I leave now then I can probably still make it before Santana gets really pissed…pulling out her phone to text her private driver to have the car brought around.

Brittany knew Santana was usually understanding of rehearsal scheduling nightmares, being that the Latina had been performing in New York for years, but this latest show of Brittany's was quickly becoming a train wreck, forcing her into many long nights away from the house.

Determined to not let her wife down for their anniversary or for Christmas, Brittany dug deep for professional strength saying to the balding man, sitting to the left of a red-haired woman, "Jake…I told you I needed to leave by seven tonight…it's way past that now."

"Run them through the last number once more, Britt…and if they are flawless then we can all get out of here," Jake Burnett instructed loudly though he covered the microphone in front of him with his hand.

"Jake, give the poor girl a break…if you were going home to a gorgeous, Tony-award-winning Latina…you'd be out of here too," the show's producer told the aging director.

"You're right, Claire…but since I go home to a fat, bitter, Jewish woman who takes great pride in verbally squeezing me by the balls every night then I'm in no particular rush," he retorted sarcastically, "Now run it from the top!"

Claire Chisholm gave Brittany a "sorry he's such an asshole" smile as Brittany turned back around, saying into her headset to the assistant choreographer on the other end, "Austin…go ahead and have them start the play back."

Brittany Pierce-Lopez took a deep breath and crossed the index finger of her left hand under her middle finger, smiling at the sparkle of her always-polished silver wedding band on her ring finger, giving a silent prayer to the theatre gods that the cast would run the changes to the first-act finale without any missteps.

As she watched the big dance number run through, the blonde's mind drifted. She was certainly glad to be back working with the show she'd put so much of her life's blood into since its humble beginning four years prior when it was just a book, a story, and Jake's vision. Brittany had always wanted to work with Jake Burnett. He was known to be a difficult man…a perfectionist…but he was the most brilliant director in the world of Broadway musicals. He had hand-picked Brittany as his lead choreographer, telling her she could hire any assistants she wanted or needed. Jake and Claire had put their full trust into the young blonde's talent.

The pre-Broadway tour had been going according to plan, receiving critical praise…mostly…until a particularly zealous, narcissistic New York Times critic wrote a scathing review three months ago, claiming Glad You're Here was "a steaming pile of overrated cow manure with no real plot". Now Brittany found herself locked away, in what was once the old Palace Theater before it had been gutted and completely remodeled in 2020. Six out of seven days for each of the past five weeks, Brittany had listened to Jake rant and bellow about every scene in the show, trying to help him reconceive its worst parts.

As time-consuming as this project had recently become, the truth was Brittany was very glad for the distraction over the course of the past twelve months. Her mind reflected back on Christmas only a year ago and then on all of her and Santana's disappointment that followed as the current year moved forward. The couple had been trying for nearly fourteen months now to conceive a child. Brittany's eyes were suddenly moist with that flash of memory. The tall blonde shifted further down in her theater seat, trying to lower her upper body below the level of her crossed ankles that were propped up on the row of seats in front of her. She reached up and wiped at a tear as it rolled down her attractive face. Santana…the blonde thought with a deep sigh.

She didn't know what more to do for her wife to soften the blow of infertility. She had tried to be supportive, as best she could anyway. Brittany had encouraged, consoled, cheered, mourned, offered to carry their child herself, offered to travel the world to adopt…whatever would bring Santana some peace. Nothing worked. Santana wanted to carry a child herself.

"I want to feel our child move inside me," the Latina had confided in Brittany over the last few years.

"Does it truly matter, Santana? As long as we have a baby we can raise together?" Brittany had tried to delicately urge.

"It matters to me, Britt," the brunette beauty would cry quietly in Brittany's arms.

As the music stopped, Brittany was pulled back to the present. She looked down at her watch again. 7:48 PM. Fuck, Brittany thought, turning to look again at her bosses.

"That was sloppier than the last time…," Jake screamed out into the microphone that sat on the desk in front of him, veins in his balding forehead bulging so far out that Brittany could see them from six rows away, "…perhaps Harris Whitman is correct in his assessment…PERHAPS, ladies and gentlemen, this show is nothing more than a steaming pile of SHIT!"

Brittany locked gazes with Claire who rolled her large, green eyes.

"Run the whole scene AGAIN! We are not leaving until you start demonstrating some of the talent you supposedly have locked inside you…or when my eye balls stop BLEEDING from having to look at you all."

Brittany turned back around and sighed out of defeat.

"Try this one," Santana handed a loose-fitting black top to Emily.

"San…I just don't think a pregnant whale should wear sequins…I'm sorry," the younger girl self-chided.

"You're not a whale, Em…in fact, I think you look more beautiful than you've ever looked," Santana said with an edge of bittersweet sadness in her voice.

Emily internally chastised herself, knowing how hard her sister-in-law had struggled just to accomplish being a pregnant whale, saying, "Thank you for that."

"Do you know what you are having?" Santana asked, trying to nudge some enthusiasm from the young girl.

"A boy."

Santana beamed, "Aww…do you have a name picked out?"

"No," Emily said bluntly, "I haven't even wanted to think about it."

The Latina grimaced, "He'll need a name, Emily…at some point, right?"

"Yes, I know."

"What about this one?" Santana could sense a change in topics was needed.

"Nothing will make me look or feel festive," Emily sighed heavily, "I promise you'll, I'll be fine to just hang out in the bedroom or the game room, ok?"

"Okay…if that's what you prefer," Santana said with disappointment. She heard her phone vibrate against the wood of the dresser, picking it up to see a text from her wife, sighing with aggravation as she saw it was eight o'clock, "Britt's going to be late to her own surprise party."

"Ms. P-L…the guests are starting to arrive," Amelia said through the closed bedroom door.

Santana opened the door, "Okay…I'm ready…just show them to the living room. Does the food look good?"

Emily's untimely visit and announcement had thrown Santana off her schedule then Brittany's absence nearly emotionally derailed the entire evening. Santana took in a deep, settling breath, undeterred with the circumstances. She was an impeccable hostess who took timing very seriously, but the last fourteen months had taught her more than just much-needed patience. She had recently learned that not much goes according to plan and that life often forces you into reaction rather than execution.

"It looks delicious, ma'am," Amelia confirmed, "Everything looks perfect."

Santana did a quick adjustment to her red-sequined party dress…short and tight, just like Brittany likes it, she mused to herself…then smiled at Amelia before fluffing out her long dark hair with her left hand and running her tongue over her perfectly-white front teeth. "Let's go greet our guests then…," she moved past her maid who shifted to pull the bedroom door shut behind her.

Santana walked up the hallway, past the glass French doors that opened to their game room, looking through the glass briefly at the framed playbills that adorned the interior walls and Emily lounging on the couch, watching the large, mounted television. She shook her head at the kid she'd thought of as her own little sister since the day Emily was born, vowing to make the next month as comfortable as possible for her, then Santana continued up the long hallway until she walked out into the festively-decorated entryway with a huge smile on her face and her hand extended.

"Marco…Stephen…I'm so glad you guys made it," she said as she hugged both handsome, well-dressed men.

"Santana, it's perfectly merry in here," Stephen James told her, handing his black dress coat to the uniformed man at the coat closet to the right of the entry.

"Thank you…come in and make yourselves at home," she told them, "There's plenty of punch…and even more adult punch."

"Where's that gorgeous wife of yours?" Marco asked as he leaned to kiss her on her cheek.

"She'll be here shortly." Santana took a deep breath, mentally crossing her fingers.

Amelia stood in the doorway of the kitchen, looking proudly out into the wide space of the colorfully-decorated living room of the Pierce-Lopez penthouse apartment. The majestic Christmas tree set in the corner with its array of red ornaments and hundreds of white lights was nothing like the small, plain trees she was used to seeing in her life. She'd come to know her bosses well enough over the last two years to imagine that most of the beautifully-wrapped presents underneath the giant tree were probably for Santana and Brittany's friends and extended families in New York as well as for her and the rest of the staff.

The older maid smiled at the sight and sound of Santana sitting on the bench of the shiny, white baby grand piano near the tree and singing some of Amelia's most-beloved Christmas carols while one of her boss' musician friends played expertly. Amelia could see on Santana's face that she was not entirely enjoying the festivity of the night she'd worked so hard to plan and keep secret. Amelia knew that reason was not the pregnant girl asleep on the couch in the game room or the stress and disappointment her young bosses had experienced over the last year…no, the aging Portuguese woman knew that Santana's face currently showed disappointment at Brittany's absence. Amelia also knew though that the Latina's face would light up, just as brightly as the lights on the gorgeous Christmas tree in front of her, the moment a certain tall blonde walked through the apartment door.

"Okay…I think that's enough holiday revelry from me, guys," Santana said to the enthralled crowd sitting around the living room.

"Nooo, never…," Stephen applauded along with the remaining twenty or so party-goers, "More…please!"

"I've sung every carol I know," the beautiful brunette threw up her hands in defeat, deferring to her good friend and former costar, "Why don't you sing for us, Stephen?"

The handsome gay guy stood almost immediately, never one to miss an opportunity to entertain, but he still had the good manners to feign bashfulness, "No, I couldn't…should I?"

The intimate audience applauded their encouragement as Stephen's partner, Marco, gave him a playful nudge toward the piano.

"Yes? Oh okay…," he beamed, moving toward the piano and pulling Santana up into an embrace, "What a magical night, sweetheart."

"It would have been…," the Latina whispered, giving him a sad attempt at a smile, before moving through the engaged crowd to stand back by the wall.

Stephen wrinkled his nose at seeing his dear friend sad during her own anniversary/holiday party, leaning back and whispering something to the male guest who was playing the piano for them. "Okay…the only way I can follow the fabulous, Tony award-winning Santana Pierce-Lopez…," Stephen gestured broadly, leading a last round of encouraging applause from the crowd for their talented hostess, "…is to sing some Garland…so Santana, dearest…this song is for you…I hope it puts a smile on that beautiful face of yours."

The piano player started on the recognizable melody of one of Judy Garland's most treasured songs then Stephen captivatingly joined in, singing…

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Let your heart be light

From now on our troubles will be out of sight…

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

Make the Yuletide gay

From now on our troubles will be miles away…

Here we are as in olden days,

Happy golden days of yore

Faithful friends who are dear to us

Gather near to us, once more…

Through the years we all will be together

If the fates allow

Hang a shining star upon the highest bow

And have yourself a merry little Christmas now…

Santana gazed around the cheerfully-lit room at the entranced party-goers who were enjoying Stephen's soothing baritenor voice as it entangled itself warmly around the bittersweet lyrics. As she stood there, she felt someone brush up behind her and two long arms wrap tightly around her small waist.

"Happy Anniversary, my love," Brittany whispered softly into Santana's ear.

Comforted immediately, Santana tilted her head to rest gently against Brittany's as they stood together, listening intently to the rest of Stephen's song.

Stephen continued on, a smile crossing his lips as he watched Brittany sneak up and pull Santana into a tight embrace…

Through the years, we all will be together

If the fates allow, but until then,

We'll have to muddle through somehow

And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.

As Stephen finished his song, the piano player proceeded to play the tune of Silver Bells for him while enthusiastic applause swelled around the living room. Stephen held up his champagne flute in a gesture of recognition of his two lovely hostesses at the back of the crowd, nodding in their direction with a smile and thinking to himself what a beautiful couple they made.

"Goodnight and thank you to both of you," Marco said as he kissed Brittany then Santana on the cheek before slipping his arms into his heavy coat that Stephen held up for him, "It was a wonderful night."

"Yes…and it ended just the way it should have…," Stephen winked at Brittany, putting his right hand into a leather glove.

"I'm glad you guys were here…it wouldn't have been the same with you...," Santana said, adding with a last wave, "…we'll see you Sunday for brunch."

Santana closed the heavy front door and turned back around to see Brittany bent over the large red and white flower display in the center of the entryway.

"I just love the smell of fresh-cut flowers," the tall blonde said, straightening back up.

"Gerald recreated the center-pieces from our reception," Santana told her.

Brittany moved toward the Latina, pulling her into her arms, "Yes, I noticed…you really outdid yourself tonight, honey…it's almost as perfect as the night I married you."

Santana smiled and tilted her head as Brittany lowered hers to kiss her wife passionately.

"Excuse me, ma'am," a masculine voice said from behind them.

The girls turned toward the uniformed head waiter who smiled with near-awe at the famous couple.

"Yes?" Santana said.

"Sorry to interrupt…did you want any of this food left out or did you want it all put away?"

"Are you hungry, babe?" Santana asked Brittany.

"Not now," Brittany smiled at the man, "You can put it away…thank you though."

He smiled politely and turned back toward the kitchen area.

"You look tired…but you are breathtaking in that red dress," Brittany said to the Latina, with a sultry smile, "I love you for going to so much trouble for us…and I'm truly sorry I missed most of it."

"I'm less tired since you made it at the end…that's all that matters to me."

"I love you, Santana."

"I love you too, Britt."

Brittany turned out the lights on the Christmas tree, pausing to sneak a small package under it, strategically placing it behind a larger one to hide it from plain sight, and smiled, getting pleasure whenever she was able to surprise her wife who was known for guessing most of her presents. The tall blonde knew Santana would adore the vintage sapphire and diamond earrings she'd picked out for her.

Santana finished supervising the cleanup in the kitchen, leaving the last of that task to her personal assistant, Shawn.

"Ready?" Santana asked Brittany, holding out her hand.

"Definitely," Brittany yawned, taking Santana by her offered-hand.

The couple walked up the hallway toward their spacious master bedroom. "The party wasn't your only surprise, you know?" Santana teased at her wife as they walked hand in hand.

"Oh really?" Brittany played along, "Will I get my other surprise in the bedroom?"

"Possibly."

The light from the television shown through the glass of the French doors as the couple passed in front of their game room, catching both girls' attention.

"Oh no…I almost forgot…," Santana paused, "…um, Britt…Christmas surprise number two."

Santana opened the double doors and quietly stepped inside, holding up her finger over her lips in a hush signal, seeing that their young guest was sound asleep on the couch.

"Emily!" Brittany exclaimed louder than she intended, her face showing her true excitement.

"Shhhh…," Santana said.

"What is she doing here?" Brittany whispered, "Mom said she was in Paris."

"Well…she's in New York for a few weeks so I told her she will stay with us," the brunette confirmed, "but…I think she wants to keep it quiet from your parents."

"Why?" Brittany was confused since she and her sister shared everything with their parents.

Santana wasn't sure if she should answer the question fully or wait to let Emily tell Brittany in the morning. She breathed a deep intake of air which Brittany read immediately.

"What's going on?" the older blonde asked her wife.

Santana subconsciously bit at her lower lip which Brittany knew instantly meant Santana was nervous to tell her.

"Tell me…," Brittany insisted with a hushed tone but a firm look.

Santana leaned over and pulled the soft, green blanket down, revealing Emily's full physique. She watched as her wife's blue eyes went wide with shock, "She's pregnant?"

"Very," Santana grimaced.

"What the…?"

"Shhhh…," Santana interrupted, re-covering Emily's torso, switching off the television, and pulling Brittany back out to the hallway, shutting the double doors behind them, "Come in here, and let's talk."

Santana practically had to push Brittany backwards until they were in their bedroom, shutting their door behind them. "Sit down, please," she instructed lightly.

"I don't understand…why didn't she tell us…she looks very pregnant…how far along is she…she's seen a doctor, hasn't she…do my parents know, cause my mother hasn't mentioned anything."

"Britt, sweetie…take a breath," Santana pushed her wife down to a sitting position on the padded bench that was at the foot of their king-sized bed.

Brittany took a step backwards and sat on the bench as Santana kneeled down in front of her on the plush carpet, taking Brittany's hands into her own.

"What's going on with her?" she asked.

"She's eight months along…it's Blake's but he bailed on her in October to model in Milan…she's confused and scared to tell anyone…particularly you and your parents…I'm pretty sure it's because she doesn't want to keep the baby."

Brittany sniffed, tears filling her eyes, "I hate this for her."

"I know…me too."

"She's staying with us until the baby comes…then she can think about what she wants to do."

"Agreed…," Santana smiled a supportive smile, "I have a suggestion though."

Brittany wiped at a falling tear, "Okay…?"

"We adopt the baby."

Brittany's look was almost equal parts of shock to relief and excitement, "You would want to do that?"

Santana nodded, "I know I've been anti-adoption all along…but this is different…we would be helping Emily have the best of both worlds…she gets to maintain her modeling career…travel the world, see all that life has planned for her…yet the baby stays where she can be part of its life…yes? no?"

Brittany beamed, her blue eyes sparkling with moisture for a different reason now, "YES!" She leaned forward to pull Santana into a tight embrace, never thinking this day would come for them, when the possibility to raise a child together would ever be a reality. "Wait though…I don't want to get my hopes up until we talk to Em...," Brittany hesitated.

"Well…I've already talked it over with her…she thinks it's a wonderful idea," Santana smiled, delighted to make Brittany this happy.

"Oh, honey…I can't believe this…this is…just so amazing…," Brittany stumbled over her enthusiasm, hugging Santana again, "…and…you're sure you're okay with this too?"

"It was my idea!" Santana said proudly though she privately understood why Brittany was expressing concern for her mental state.

"I love you so much," Brittany kissed Santana firmly on the lips then trailed more kisses up the Latina's jawline with a final kiss behind her right ear, whispering, "…and I can't wait to name her."

"Her?" Santana paused with curiosity, sitting back on her heels.

"Yes…I know you always think I'm crazy when I have one of my dreams…but…," Brittany started.

Instead of rolling her brown eyes at her wife's confidence in her dream-interpretation skills, this time Santana was intrigued, prompting, "But…?"

"I had the most vivid dream two nights ago…we were celebrating Christmas…somewhere…not here though…at some point in the future…and you were holding the most beautiful baby girl I've ever seen."

"Really?"

"She had my smile and your brown eyes…and she was the happiest little girl ever," Brittany's words were so heartfelt that they brought tears to Santana's eyes.

"Emily is having a boy though, Britt," Santana corrected sweetly.

"Oh…," Brittany wasn't sure why she felt such a sudden loss at that revelation, except that her dream had seemed so very real to her. The baby had seemed so realistic in her dream that she could almost reach out and take her from Santana's arms. "A boy is great too," she added quickly to cover any slight disappointment.

"You really wanted a girl, huh?" Santana asked, a bittersweet half-smile on her lips.

"I want a healthy child to raise…with you…the woman I've loved for a lifetime now," Brittany assured her, pushing a broad smile to her lips.

"You know what I think right now is the perfect time for?" Santana asked, standing up, "…Christmas presents."

"Honey…it's not Christmas yet," Brittany always liked to wait until it was officially Christmas.

"Yeah, I know…," the Latina said, looking over at the large, silver clock on her nightstand, "…but it is after midnight, so it's at least Christmas eve, right?"

Brittany shrugged, nothing deterring her excitement at this point, "Fair enough."

Santana walked over to the nightstand on her side of the giant bed, smiling knowingly to herself and pulling out a small red box that had tiny white snowflakes printed all over it. The top was tied to the bottom of the box with a white, satin ribbon. The Latina turned and walked back over to Brittany and kneeled before her again, laying her tanned hands into the blonde's lap, presenting the petite box to her in her open palms.

Santana looked up at her wife's beautiful face, a face she'd been looking into for thirty years now, internally hoping to look into the same face for another thirty then thirty more. "Here…," she said simply, sitting back on her heels.

Brittany pulled on one side of the satin ribbon, untying the delicate bow. She pulled off the top and unfolded the red tissue paper, the crinkling sound of the paper enhancing her growing excitement. Inside the box was a small, silver ornament on another satin ribbon. Brittany pulled it out of the box with her fingertips, seeing that it was an ornately-carved angel with the inscription "Miracles Happen".

"It's beautiful, honey…," Brittany commented, leaning to kiss Santana on the lips though secretly surprised at the Miracles reference, not realizing Santana could read her face as easily as she could read the brunette's.

"I know I have not had much faith in the karma around us…for a while now…but…recently, my faith has been restored."

"Did you buy this today," Brittany asked, even more confused at the message on the angel ornament.

"No, I had it made last week," Santana answered her.

Brittany's nose wrinkled with more confusion.

"I hope you don't think of this as me going behind your back, Britt…cause it was nothing like that…actually I never even thought it would work…so I just thought I would be disappointed yet again…and I didn't want you to be disappointed again too…or worry so much again about how upset I would be."

"Okay…," Brittany was trying hard to follow Santana's explanation.

"I'm rambling, aren't I?" Santana grimaced.

"Yes," Brittany smiled, knowing her wife's habit of rambling when she got nervous, "Just tell me whatever it is."

"What I'm trying to say is…I've never thought the vivid dreams you have are silly…though I do enjoy teasing you over them," the Latina admitted, trying to rein in her point to alleviate Brittany's confusion, "…so it's amazing to me that you had the dream you did the other night."

"Santana…my darling, sweet wife…I have no idea what you are talking about," Brittany couldn't help but chuckle.

Santana took a deep breath and pulled the silver ornament from Brittany's hand, pointing to the satin ribbon from which it dangled in front of her, "I'm talking about…this."

Brittany silently stared at the ornament a moment, finally stating the only obvious thing she could see, "It's pink."

"Yes…for a girl."

Brittany narrowed her eyes, trying to read the expression on her wife's face, "But…you said Emily's having a boy."

"She is…," Santana confirmed, "…but…you and I are having a girl."

Brittany's eyes locked with Santana's for what seemed like eternity to Santana as a pause hung in the air.

"You're…?"

"Yes," Santana smiled adoringly.

"But…."

"I know…."

"Are you serious…?"

"Very…."

"Oh my god…honey!" Brittany let out a squeal of uncontrollable excitement as she pulled Santana up into her arms, "I can't believe this!"

"I hardly can either…and I'm the one who has had time for it to sink in," Santana told her.

Santana relished in Brittany's display of elation. She truly never expected this last cycle to work, and she sincerely was willing to shoulder all the hurt and disappoint she might have caused herself to suffer. She still wasn't sure what pushed her to attempt another cycle with her fertility specialist, knowing that the couple only had two more stored-vials from the anonymous donor they picked together nearly two years ago. Before Santana could even think through her choice, she'd already made a doctor's appointment then she was at the doctor's office telling him she wanted to try one last time then there she was, laying on the exam table being inseminated for the eighth time in fourteen months.

Santana was in such disbelief when the doctor's office called to tell her the cycle was successful this time that she was still fearful to jinx it by telling Brittany until she was past the first trimester.

"I'm so glad you are happy, love…I never intended to rob you of participating in the process…I was just so scared something bad would happen at some point…and then it would be devastating to you."

"To us, San…I would never choose for you to go through any more stress alone…I'm a big girl…I can handle it…but none of that matters now so why would I make it an issue?" Brittany assured her, "You know why…?"

"Why?"

"Cause my wife's pregnant!" Brittany radiated joy from ear to ear.

Santana laughed, so very relieved. "You sure we can handle two babies around here?"

"I think that with all you and I have been through together in life…that we can handle anything around here!" Brittany said with certainty.

"I adore you…Merry Christmas, love!" Santana told her.

Brittany pulled her wife into a passionate kiss, her heart pouring over with happiness, pulling back to look into Santana's brown eyes, knowing in a few short months that she'd look into another set just like them. "Merry Christmas, honey…I love you both so much."