Disclaimer: Santana Lopez and Brittany S. Pierce belong to Glee, along with other character cameos and mentions in the future. Any other characters/names you don't recognize are just made up.
A/N: this is largely based off of their character treatments in s2. it's going to be a will-they-won't-they thing majority of the time, so bear with me. in all probability, though, you can expect a happy ending from this. chapters will be shortish 95% of the time. starting the story off with a double chapter just to get the ball rollin'. enjoy!
"So you play video games, and get paid?" Santana asked, her brows furrowed.
"Yeah," Brittany simply agreed.
Santana shook her head, taking in the mess of cardboard boxes stacked around the spare room. Well, Brittany Pierce's room, now, anyway. But did she really just help this stranger carry boxes from a pickup truck, and only now finding out she might have to kick her right out? "I don't get it," she gave up.
"Which part?"
"When you came to check the place a few weeks ago you said you worked with computers," Santana half-yelled, one arm flailing in exasperation. "I assumed you meant, like, at a store. Or some IT company. Or something."
They had met at a cafe down the street because Santana didn't trust online strangers enough to show them the apartment right away, duh. She needed to make sure Brittany S. Pierce wasn't a 40 year old balding man or something.
The blonde was confusing enough right off the bat. She had agreed to meet Santana at the cafe, but ended up ordering a smoked quiche instead because the smell of coffee reminded her of her past life or something. Santana was actually relieved at the sight of the blonde. She looked relatively close to her own age, even though she was admittedly a whole lot taller, and she seemed genuinely in need of the place. It didn't take long for Santana to agree to take her to the apartment and have a look-see.
"God, no," Brittany laughed. "I don't get computers, and they don't get me. I just like playing games on them. And people watch me, and when they're nice, they send me money." She ended with a shrug and a smile, as if that solved everything.
"Look, I was under the impression you had a regular job and that you would be able to pay your half of the rent, regularly," Santana couldn't believe it. It was right there on her "Looking for a roommie, no uglies" post.
She knew she should have waited a bit longer for more people to hit her up about that, but compared to the guy who insisted she be okay with bi-weekly Bible meetings in the living room, and that one chick whose manner of greeting Santana was by complimenting her 'damn titsaroos', Brittany S. Pierce was the most… ordinary of the applicants.
Brittany huffed as she put down the last of the cardboard boxes down on the floor. "I see how this worries you, Santana Lopez," she began, ignoring the frustrated eye roll from the brunette. "But I'm kinda good at it, y'know. People like me, for whatever reason, and sometimes, most of the time, they donate to show their support. In fact, I'm a lot better at this than I would be at a corporate job, or whatever regular jobs are. This way, I don't need to deal with a boss, or people calling me incompetent, or stupid."
There was a slight waver in Brittany's gaze as she muttered that last word. Santana watched as the blonde plopped down on the mattress-less bed frame at the corner of the room.
The two had agreed for Brittany to move in right away. Santana quickly got tired of seeing weirdos trying to convince her they weren't satanists or heroin addicts or both, and aside from Brittany's occasional odd comments on things, she figured she could easily tolerate the blonde more than she would the other applicants.
"Well?" Brittany pressed. She looked up to meet Santana's eyes. "Do you want me to, like, move out?"
This was ridiculous. Any other day, Santana would have yelled back in affirmation, no question. Yes, even if this was a complete stranger she was dealing with. She'd done nastier things in the past, anyway.
But not today. She knew she really needed this break from her old dumb office job, making coffee that she wasn't allowed to drink, so that she could look for better jobs, because dammit, it'd been a year since she graduated with a business administration degree, and that hadn't landed her anywhere substantial, and she needed to rent out the spare room to sustain herself until something better happened, and also, why were Brittany's eyes so damn big and blue?
"I haven't exactly unpacked, anyway," Brittany added, her voice dragging Santana out of her trance.
Santana squinted a little, her eyes scanning the blonde head to toe. Off-the-shoulder top, fitted blue jeans (like those blue eyes), long blonde hair tied in a messy ponytail with her bangs out. "Well, I can't do that," Santana finally mumbled, resigned. Her eyes shifted from the blonde sitting in front of her, and then to the rest of the room. "Besides, your boxes were really heavy, and I'm too tired to help you bring them back down now."
The blonde clasped her hands together in almost childish joy. "Thank you so much! I promise I'll never go late on rent," Brittany beamed, skipping towards Santana with her arms outreached, ready for a hug.
Santana shook her head, taking visible steps away from the eager stranger. "I'm not—we're not—comfortable, enough, for that."
Brittany shrugged, her hands falling to her sides. "Well, yeah, for now," she conceded, her genuine smile still plastered on her face.
Santana's eyes narrowed, but decided it wasn't worth pursuing, well… for now. She tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and turned to leave. "Just, you're sure your game… thing, it pays?" she nagged, turning back around with one hand on the doorknob.
"Trust me," Brittany nodded earnestly. Santana forced a smile so she could suppress another of her eye rolls as the blonde added sweetly, "Roomie."