an: Wow, it's been a while since I've posted anything. A new piece of ff, based in Santana's freshman year onward. Brittana, probably a few more ships along the way. Enjoy!

She could remember her first practice as vividly as if it had happened a few days ago.

Santana Lopez jogged to the locker room, her feet throbbing with pain every time the bottom of her shoe rebounded off the ground. She winced as she sat down, her skin slick with sweat. She was going to be sore tomorrow. For some reason she hadn't expected the practice to be this brutal despite all the warnings she received from the older Cheerios. The other girls flooded in around her, tipping back their water bottles and chatting amongst each other. "Hard time, Lopez?" Quinn Fabray asked as she strutted in, smoothing out the creases in the skirt of her uniform with the pads of her fingers.

Quinn had just moved to Lima a few weeks ago and had already managed to worm her way into the most popular crowds. Just a freshman and already on her way to being co-captain of the squad. Who did she think she was? And what kind of last name was Fabray? Santana grinded her teeth, stepping off the bench. "Not a chance, blondie," she snapped, turning back to her locker.

Once all the other girls had scattered with the exception of Brittany, the brunette's closest friend, Santana finally felt the freedom to moan over how much pain she was in. Brittany was a natural dancer and found the Cheerios work of only average difficulty, but for someone like Santana who had never done such a tough workout in her life, she was in agony. "Everything hurts," she complained, rubbing her sore and blistered feet with her thumbs.

"I heard ice helps, but I'm not sure where to get it," Brittany replied, rubbing her lips together in concern.

She waved her hand, passing it off. "No, you're hurt," Brittany persisted, pointing to a newly formed bruise. A memory of an older cheerleader's leg slipping during the pyramid, her kneecap smacking off of Santana's arm surfaced.

"It's nothing," she promised, but the blonde was already moving in. She pressed her lips against the mark, kissing Santana's tender skin.

Santana could feel the heat racing to her face. Brittany was always like this, kissing her cheek before leaving or kissing her forehead before they went to sleep during sleepovers. It always made Santana embarrassed—girls weren't supposed to do that, were they? "Brittany, I don't think this is really—"

"What the hell?"

The new voice caused the two girls to jump apart automatically, both of their hearts pounding in their chests. Quinn Fabray stood in the doorway, her eyes wide. "What are you two doing?" It occurred to Santana that Quinn's family were serious church goers, and their daughter probably was, too.

"I'm sorry; did we hurt your virgin eyes?" Santana remarked rudely.

"You were kissing," Quinn stated.

"You seriously need to get your vision checked, Fabray. Brittany was just smelling the new perfume I just got. It's Gucci," she lied. As if she could actually afford Gucci.

Brittany sat there, her mouth slightly open, her eyes sliding between Quinn and Santana. The tension in room mounted as Quinn stepped into the room. Placing her hands behind her back, the small blonde sat across from the two freshmen, crossing her ankles. "Do you guys have Mr. Fitzpatrick?" She asked sincerely, her fingers twisting.

It was such a normal conversation starter that Santana was taken aback. She glanced back over at Brittany, whose innocent eyes were fixated on Quinn. The corners of her mouth were turned up in a smile. "He's a fairy catcher," she whispered to the other blonde, pushing her long blonde fringe out of her eyes. "I saw him with a glass jar in his briefcase the other day. There was definitely a fairy in there."

Santana and Quinn laughed at Brittany's sincerity. Their eyes locked, almost like a challenge. Truce? Quinn's were reading. The beautiful, intimidating, scary Quinn Fabray was being oddly friendly. Too friendly. She turned back to Brittany, bringing up one of the funny things that had happened that day. As Brittany laughed Santana's eyes turned back to Quinn. She raised an eyebrow. For now, she hoped hers said.

That night all she could think of was Brittany. She was so comfortable with doing those little, affectionate things. Didn't she consider what others would think? They'd think they were...gay. The word tasted funny in Santana's mouth. They hadn't actually kissed, of course, so it wasn't like the accusation could be true.

Next to her, a loud vibration alerted her to the fact that she had a text.

from: britts
sleepover this wknd?

from: santana
sure.

from: britts
want 2 invite quinn?

Santana's fingers danced over the keys, contemplating her next reply. So this was it? One small meeting in the locker room and all of a sudden the three were the best of friends? There was only one thing that was stopping her from saying hell no. Quinn was popular. She could get them into the 'in' crowd. They could rule the school. They were cheerleaders, after all. Wasn't that what cheerleaders were supposed to do?

from: santana
go for it. Idc.

"Hi, Mrs. Pierce," Santana greeted the familiar woman. "On your way out?" She observed sweetly, noticing the jacket and scarf that she had on.

"You girls are good to stay alone, right?" She asked, ignoring the question. "Oh. Robert and I are headed to a friend's house. We might not be back until very late. Bex is at a baby sitters..." Bex was Brittany's younger sister. "Emergency phone numbers are by the sink...oh, I don't know why I'm telling you all this, Santana dear, Brittany should know it all..."

Santana nodded and smiled. "Thanks, Mrs. Pierce!" She waltzed away, her smile fading. Brittany's mother was so absent minded. It drove her insane.

"Is Quinn here yet?" She asked upon arriving to Brittany's room, where blankets and pillows completely covered the floor. Brittany sat in the midst of the pillow hurricane, stroking Charity's soft gray fur. Santana gingerly took a seat on the ground.

Just as Brittany opened her mouth to reply Quinn entered the room, her hair perfectly styled in a bun that rested on the nape of her neck. She looked perfect even for a sleepover.

This would be a night to remember, that was for sure. The only catch was that the three didn't know it yet.