How to Celebrate the Fourth
Santana hummed along to the radio as she cut up tomatoes for the pasta salad. She heard a squeal and looked out through the window. Quinn was chasing their son around with a super soaker. She grinned, thinking about the conversation they'd had a week ago.
"Mmm…hi baby," Quinn said sleepily as Santana slipped into bed behind her.
"Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's okay. How was work?"
"Long. I'm so ready for the holiday."
Santana quirked an eyebrow at her wife. "Umm…it's the Fourth of July next week."
Quinn shot up in bed. "Oh my god! We haven't planned anything! It's Tyler's first holiday with us—we should be having people over, and doing a cookout, and—"
"Q-bear, calm your tits," Santana said, laughing.
Quinn glared at her. "Santana…."
"Look at it this way," Santana said before her wife could get going. "Yeah, it's his first holiday since we adopted him. But he's still settling in. And between your book getting published and my crazy work schedule, it's been nuts around here. I think we should just spend the holiday here—the four of us. And we can drive somewhere to watch the fireworks that night."
"I guess that sounds cool."
So here she was, cooking for the three of them, and laughing at her two favorite people as they acted like huge nerds in the backyard.
They came in a few minutes later.
"Who won?" she asked, setting two bowls on the table.
"He did," Quinn said. "To be fair, though, he was also equipped with water balloons."
"Come on; let's eat."
It took all of two close-to-home fireworks for the three of them to figure out that Tyler was not a fireworks person. At the sound of the first one, he'd jumped about a mile and clung tightly to Santana. He was still shaking after the second one.
"Can we…can we just watch Aunt Rachel on TV tonight?" he asked quietly.
"Sure thing, little man," Quinn said. "Come help me with popcorn."
They settled onto the couch as the annual Salute to the Troops came on. Tyler bounced up and down as Rachel took the stage.
"Oh, say, can you see…"
Both women's heads snapped to the 8-year-old sitting between them as he sang along with his godmother.
"Did you know he could sing?" Santana mouthed to Quinn.
The blonde shook her head. She wrapped an arm around the boy as they watched the rest of the program.