Title: This Is For Real

Inspired by: Flavor of the Weak by American Hi-Fi
This Is For Real by Motion City Soundtrack

Summary: Santana Lopez is fine with helping her roommate cheat on her girlfriend because it doesn't effect her in the slightest and to be honest she's just a little bored. Until she meets the girl, that is.

Pairings: Brittana Faberry Quitt

Rated: T for some language

First multi-chapter Glee fic. Let's see how it works out.

"Yeah, so I'll text you when my class gets out and we'll meet for lunch." A pause and a grin. "I had fun tonight too." The almost raspy voice comes out a little breathier. "No, I can't wait for tomorrow either." The smile has to be controlled to conceal the blush. "You too."

Santana doesn't care. Like, honest to God, couldn't give a flying fuck about whatever is currently pouring from her roommate's mouth and trailing like sex along the airwaves to God knows where. Seriously. But her mother had pretty much had a conniption fit when she found out how little the Latina girl knew about her roommate even after four weeks of living together. Apparently random freshmen room assignments were the first sign of Universe aligning and if Santana and the blonde didn't become best friends by the end of the semester the world was going to end.

Other than the fact that her voice set Santana's teeth on edge, or that the sugary quality of her smile could give the Latina an ulcer the darker girl could probably list what she knew of the lighter on one hand. Like, for one, she was blonde. She was a political science major with aspirations of law school, two. She was from some backwoods hick town in Northwest Ohio, three.

"Night, babe." The blonde in question watched the screen of her phone until the call ended and her golden-green eyes hazed over.

Her name was Quinn Fabray, four.

And she was so in her head that she startled when Santana spoke out in an awkward attempt to follow her mother's advice and start some sort of conversation. "That the girlfriend?"

Oh yeah, she was as queer as a three dollar bill.

Five.

See? One hand.

"What?" Quinn almost dropped her phone at the question and Santana would be laughing at her wide-eyed-deer-in-the-headlights look if she weren't so busy mentally kicking herself.

She fought the urge to turn back to the open math book on her desk and pretend like nothing had been said because asking about the girlfriend was crossing a line she never even wanted to approach. But it was out there and Santana Isabel Mother Effin' Lopez never backed down from something she started.

Weakly, she gestured to the phone in the other girl's hand with her pencil. "The girlfriend?" she repeated, biting off a smile that probably looked like a grimace.

It wasn't the thought of two girls dating, hell, it wasn't even the fact that she was rooming and therefore somewhat forced to sleep in the same room as a chick that dug other chicks, that bothered her. She was totally supportive or whatever, and no, she didn't bat for that particular team but to each their own. Right? It wasn't like it effected her anyway, so long as the other girl kept her hands to herself that was.

Santana wasn't above cutting a bitch for getting handsy. But that applied to both genders.

"Oh!" Quinn looked down at the device in her hand like she hadn't realized it was there until that moment. "No, that was…" she frowned and narrowed her eyes as she looked up to catch her roommate's eye. "You know, it's really not any of your business who that was."

Aaand there it was. Santana felt her proverbial hackles rise and she was sharply reminded of why it had been four weeks without any roommate 'bonding'.

Quinn Fabray was a Grade A bitch.

Not that Santana was all that innocent, per say. She was actually pretty far from it in fact, as her own title of HBIC had gone undisputed for the entirety of her high school career. But if she had learned anything in those years it was that you couldn't place two Alphas together without expecting some sort of throw down. She would have set it up herself, get the bloodshed out of the way so to speak, if her father's checkbook wasn't footing the whole of the college bill and he hadn't threatened to stop the gravy train completely should she get into any sort of trouble.

"Whatever," the darker girl finally muttered and turned back to her homework, wondering if homicidal inclinations were grounds enough for dorm reassignment or if actual blood had to be drawn first.

The opening to Britney Spears' You Drive Me Crazy burst forth from the recently disengaged phone and Quinn fumbled to answer before the song got too far along. It was a ringtone Santana had become used to over the last month as was the "Hey, baby" cooed into the mouth piece whenever it cut off. The voice was the same, but the tone was completely different from before, making the Latina pause from her work. "Sorry I couldn't talk earlier, I was…" The Latina glanced up when the blonde stood abruptly only to fleetingly catch the look on her face before Quinn swiftly walked out of the common area and into the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

She smirked and ducked back down, tapping contentedly away at her calculator. Quinn could hide behind all the snark and saccharine smiles she wanted but that particular brand of guilt could only mean one thing.

Quinn Fabray was a cheater.

What do you know? Santana thought, now I have to use both hands.

Thoughts?