Santana feels the water glide over her as she pushes through, stroke, kick, stroke, kick, stroke, kick. She turns her head out of the water, inhaling deeply, before she plunges under once again. She feels exhilarated. She could never tire of this, this feeling she gets whenever she swims. Something takes over her, something carnal and instinctive; it just feels natural, like she was born to do this. She senses the nearing pool wall and braces herself, somersaulting beneath the crystalline waves and pushing off the wall with her legs, resuming her confident strokes back up the length of the pool. She continues this for another half an hour or so until she sees a dark shadow looming over the water as she once again approaches the edge. She surfaces, breathing heavily, blinking to clear the chlorine haze that she has become so accustomed to.

"Rachel, hey." She pants, greeting her manager with a small smile as she hoists herself out of the pool.

"Hello Santana." The short brunette nods brusquely.

"How's it goi-" But Santana's sentence is ended abruptly as a towel is thrust enthusiastically into her arms, smothering her a little, muffling her words. She pulls the material down, and is greeted with a pair of sparkling blue eyes, bluer than the pool water that shimmers behind her.

"Oh, Santana, this is Brittany. She's an intern, she's going to be trailing me for the next few months, watching how I run things. She'll also be serving as an assistant to me, which equates to you as well. Hence her eager, albeit slightly overzealous, act of fetching you a towel."

"Huh. Thank you." Santana muses, studying Brittany for a moment, barely registering the sound of Rachel turning and making her way back towards the office. The blonde's eyes dart around nervously as she now stands alone, and Santana can tell that she's trying to adjust to unfamiliar surroundings, taking in everything at once, which can be overwhelming, as Santana very well remembers from when she started out as a rookie. But Brittany then senses Santana's mocha eyes on her and turns her head a fraction, meeting Santana's curious gaze with a shy smile.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Lopez." She speaks softly.

Santana revels in the soft tones of her voice, liking the way her name rolls off the woman's tongue.

"Please, call me Santana." She assures.

"Santana." She nods, smiling a little more before bobbing her head and scurrying away.

Santana chuckles, but her smile is wiped from her face when she catches Rachel watching her from the office window, her stony expression enough to quell even the brightest sunshine. The swimmer gulps, knowing that she's going to get her ear chewed off by Rachel about this later. But for now, she resolves to just get back to her training, every so often letting her thoughts linger on a certain blonde with the most dazzling smile…

A few hours pass, and Santana glances at the large white clock that hangs above the pool, gasping as she realises just how much time has lapsed. She drags herself out, shivering, wondering where Brittany is with the towels when she really needs one. She catches herself giggling as she remembers the adorable way the blonde had fumbled to shove a towel into her arms, shaking her head as she meanders back to the locker room to shower and get dressed.

She begins to hum a tune to herself as she sways around, stripping her swimming costume off and wrapping herself in a towel she had snatched from the pile awaiting her as she had walked through the door. Feeling bolstered by her apparent privacy, her singing intensifies, bouncing off the lockers, echoing around the room. She loses herself in the song, adding her own dance moves, and is just about to jump up onto the bench and compose her own version of the Macarena when she hears a stifled giggle float through the air. She freezes, her head whipping around, trying with all of her might to remain composed while she discerns where the noise came from.

A flash of yellow catches the corner of her eye, and she twirls, the culprit caught in her gaze, a helpless rabbit caught in the glare of blinding headlights, trying to run away.

"Brittany?"

The blonde turns agonisingly slowly, her head bowed meekly, hands twisted together nervously.

"I- I'm sorry, Miss Lopez. I didn't mean to interrupt, and I, I wasn't spying on you or anything, I just came to make sure you got the towels I left for you, and I…" she trailed off quietly, eyes glued to the floor.

Santana feels her heart swell and her resolve shatter. She knows in that instant that she'd never have the heart to yell at someone like Brittany, someone so fragile and genuine. She steps takes a step towards the panicked intern, before changing direction and walking over to her locker while speaking gently.

"It's alright, Brittany. You're not in trouble. You just… surprised me, that's all." She giggles, wondering what on earth would have crossed Brittany's mind in that moment, seeing Santana Lopez, professional swimmer, thrusting and singing along to cheesy pop songs.

She turns to look at the blonde as she reaches in to retrieve her clothes, and sees Brittany watching her, a hint of a smile ghosting across her lips. Santana notices how soft and pink Brittany's lips look, and finds herself staring at them for a moment too long. She clears her throat awkwardly and turns back to her locker, feeling Brittany's eyes burning into her back.

"Okay, well, I'll see you tomorrow, I guess." Brittany mumbles, her shyness once again taking over.

"Bye." Santana calls, not trusting herself to turn again and look at Brittany for fear of what other thoughts might cross her mind.

It isn't the fact that she is attracted to a woman that's bothering her so much. Hell, she'd come to terms with that years ago, been through all the denial and pain and coming out. Now she was out and proud, well, for the most part. She just wasn't allowed to come out in the professional aspect of her life, or, as Rachel said, on a daily basis (as if she needed reminding), 'she had to be straight if she wanted to be great'.

But the thing that is worrying her most in this instant is how drawn she is to Brittany. There was something about the blonde, something magnetic. Santana felt a need, almost a compulsion, to get to know her. And considering she had barely held a proper conversation with the blonde, this was slightly unnerving, to say the least.

Her train of thought is interrupted, however, by an intrusive and rather obnoxious cough coming from behind her.

"Santana."

This displeased tone is one that Santana has heard many times before, and she turns reluctantly, lifting her eyes from the floor to see Rachel watching her, a stern expression on her face.

"Rachel, hey."

"Don't 'Rachel, hey' me. I presume you know why I'm here."

Santana knows exactly why she's here, but she decides to feign innocence, shaking her head while shrugging naïvely.

Her manager sighs, massaging her temples before straightening up to look Santana in the eye.

"Listen, Lopez. I don't know how many times we've been through this, but frankly I'm getting tired of repeating myself, so I'm going to make this brief; I have told you, countless times, that I have no problem with you wanting to sleep with women. That is fine by me. What you do in your own time is your business. But, while you work as a part of my team, you abide by my rules. And I can't have a lesbian on my team. People will talk. Your teammates might begin to feel uncomfortable having you in the locker room with them. And it could tarnish your image in a way that could be irreversible, your fans may even turn against you, there's no telling what might happen. And I saw the way you were looking at Brittany, and I'm warning you now – don't go there."

"But-"

"No buts. I know this may seem harsh Santana, but I'm just looking out for both you and my team. Someday you'll understand that. And until that day comes, I want your closet door to remain firmly shut whenever you're involved in anything to do with your swimming career. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." Santana mutters begrudgingly, eyes narrowing as Rachel smiles before exiting the locker room.

She can feel the latent anger bubbling and rising up in her chest, and before she has completed her next thought, she finds her feet carrying her towards the gym, which is situated through a pair of double doors adjacent to the pool. She's now glad that her shower has been postponed, as she dons her boxing gloves that she uses for fitness training and begins to mercilessly pummel one of the sand dummies. She feels her rage draining out of her slowly with each blow, and soon finds herself exhausted. She places her gloves back on the rack hanging on the wall and shuffles back to the showers, grabbing her clothes before scuffling into one of the shower cubicles, turning the water up to its highest heat and letting the scalding water caress her tense body, sighing with relief as she feels her muscles relax under the warmth.

Her mind is still seething though, still upset by Rachel's unintended homophobia even after all these years. Her manager always seems to make out like Santana is some sort of player, the way she harps on about not being seen out being intimate with women and keeping her sexuality hidden. But in reality, Santana has only ever had one serious girlfriend, from college until last year, and they had eventually broken up because her girlfriend couldn't handle the pressure of Santana having to skewer the connection between her professional and personal life. She had told Santana that she wanted to be with someone who she could actually be with, not skulk around in the shadows like they had something to hide or be ashamed of. Santana had actually agreed with what she was saying, and even though it hurt, she let her go, to be with someone who deserved her.

This alone makes Santana's blood boil when she considers the way Rachel spoke to her, but then for Rachel to assume… what? What did Rachel think was going to happen?

Santana sighs as she eventually opens her eyes, letting the water cascade down her face for a moment longer before turning it off. She steps out and finds herself shivering, but not just from the cold. Just outside the cubicle in which she was showering, on a bench, is a clean towel accompanied by one of the small rectangular foam floaties from the kid's section, with a note scrawled onto a piece of paper atop it. She peers down, her eyes drinking in the slopes and slants of the unfamiliar handwriting:

I know it's not a real microphone, but I thought you could use this next time you want to stage another one-woman show in the locker room. –Brittany.

Santana feels her heart trip a little as she reads the note a second time, noticing how Brittany dots her I's with little hearts and how the tail of the Y in her name trails down a little before ending with a gentle flick.

She doesn't realise that she is clutching the note to her chest until a few seconds later, when she shakes her head to clear her mind and mentally chastises herself, vowing to nip this in the bud and not encourage Brittany any more than she has done, for fear of putting either of their jobs in jeopardy. She resolves to simply focus on her career and to leave Brittany to concentrate on her own. Little does she know just how difficult this is going to become.

I would really love to hear what you all think of the story so far. Don't hesitate to leave a review, they're always welcome! :)