Notes: Cross posted to Tumblr and ao3.

Based on Seafret's "Wildfire" music video! Also, you can thank thewafflewhat for this fic because my ideas were bone dry before she sent me this idea.

This Got Away From Me, so there I'm splitting it into 3 parts (plus an epilogue)! (So it's not like a single 10k long post/chapter lol.) Also, this is A Lot more dialogue heavy than I'm used to, so it was actually a pretty fun challenge!

Title from "Wildfire" by Seafret.

It's Mercedes who convinces her to sign up for the research project, some revision of an old psychology experiment from the nineties. It's late October, and Santana's finishing assignments and starting midterms and she has no time for things like research for some old, psych profs, but Mercedes is insistent. She heard about it from the psych class she's taking to complete her social science requirements, and she immediately went home to prod her roommate into doing it.

"You need to get out," Mercedes complains for the third night in a row, "This whole lesbian hermit thing you've got going on is bumming me out."

"Ha ha," Santana says dryly. "I'm sorry that my studying is depressing you."

Mercedes rolls her eyes. "It's less the studying and more the fact that you haven't left the apartment in, like, three weeks."

"I got groceries on Monday," Santana protests half-heartedly, "And I go to my classes."

Mercedes doesn't dignify that with an answer, she just keeps bugging Santana about it throughout the rest of the evening and into the next day, until Santana finally concedes, ignoring Mercedes' obnoxious cheer with a fond eye roll.

"Great!" Mercedes calls as she heads for the kitchen, "Because I've already signed you up!"

Santana throws one of the couch pillows at her roommate and best friend's retreating back, and only succeeds in eliciting a burst of laughter.

In the end, Santana only does it so she can shut Mercedes up, and because she could use the money. She doesn't really expect anything to come of it, which is probably why it works out like it does.

/

Set I

/

She arrives at the research centre with about thirty other strangers, all nervously shuffling around and making small talk. Santana stands at the edges of the group and listens to the head researcher explain what they're about to do. She half pays attention to the research and half studies the crowd, wondering who her partner will be; she had to fill out an initial questionnaire and now that she's actually here, she's nervous about the answers she wrote down, who they'll pair her with based on what she wrote, if she's already screwed this up. The researchers explain how they've selected pairs based on the initial questionnaire, how they'll split everyone into two different groups for the sets of questions, how they are allowed to introduce themselves with names, ages, and jobs before they start, how they are to alternate reading each question or activity to their partner so they can both answer and then move on, how they have have up to an hour and a half to complete the thirty-six questions they'll be presented with, how every half-hour the researchers will come and tell them to move onto the next set of questions.

Santana's randomly selected for the closeness-generating procedure, the one implied to be the most intense, and before she knows it they're calling her name and leading her down a hallway and into a small room. There's a small table in the middle with two chairs across from each other and some recording equipment set up; the researcher who led her to the room quickly crosses the room and flicks a couple switches until the equipment quietly whirls to life. There's also a couple water bottles and three piles of cue cards carefully stacked in the middle of the table. Santana hesitates just inside the doorway after the researcher leaves, wondering if she's supposed to wait for her partner or just go ahead and sit down.

"Do you normally like blocking doors?" a voice asks, "Because that might be a bit of a dealbreaker."

Santana jumps and spins around to find a tall blonde woman on the other side of the doorway, a soft, teasing smile on her face. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a slightly messy ponytail, bangs falling softly over her forehead and partially obscuring her raised eyebrows. There's a faint spattering of freckles across her nose, her cheeks scrunched up against the brightest blue eyes Santana has ever seen in her life. She's dressed even more casually than Santana is, in a loose shirt patterned with tiny birds and ripped jean shorts, and Santana's eyes quickly dart down long, smooth legs and land on old, well-worn sneakers, before she meets the woman's eyes again, flushing at the slight sparkle in the bright blue.

Santana tugs on the bottom of her leather jacket, wondering for the billionth time since she asked Mercedes that morning if she is too worried about this whole experiment (much to Mercedes' amusement and Santana's chagrin). She's only dressed in her black skinny jeans and a t-shirt under her jacket, but this woman looks relaxed and casual and good.

Those blue eyes are still sparkling at Santana, and her smile widens, a little lopsided on one side and Santana's heart does this weird spasming thing at the softly teasing look. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" the woman asks, and her lips twist from that teasing smile into a slight pout at the question. "It's not that much of a dealbreaker if you block doorways, but I do prefer a gentlewoman."

Santana kinda forgets how to breathe and just nods wordlessly instead, stepping to the side. She tries to find her voice but the woman is just— She's just really pretty, and Santana is really hopeless when it comes to pretty girls, and she curses Mercedes for talking her into this. (But she also reminds herself to thank her, because, well—)

"Hi," the woman says as she crosses the threshold.

"Hi," Santana manages, and she inwardly applauds herself for not sounding like a croaking frog, which is what she thought her voice would sound like based on how dry her mouth has become.

The woman just keeps smiling at her as she crosses the room to sit in one of the chairs, Santana trailing slowly behind her.

"Are you nervous?" the woman asks as they sit, and Santana finds herself saying yes before she can even comprehend the question.

The woman tips her head to the side a little, curious and open. "Why?"

Santana shrugs and shifts awkwardly on her chair. "I dunno. We're complete strangers and we're supposed to tell each other really personal things. I just think it might be kind of awkward or whatever."

"I'm Brittany, I'm twenty-one, and I'm in my fourth year at Columbia University on a math scholarship," the woman says in response, and Santana blinks in confusion before the woman's — Brittany's — face somehow softens even further. "Now we aren't strangers anymore," she explains.

Santana finds herself smiling softly at that and nods once. "I'm Santana," she says, offering her hand for Brittany shake. Brittany's hand is warm and soft in hers and, not that Santana wants to be a complete and utter cliché, but she feels something tingle along her fingertips where they brush Brittany's wrist. "I'm twenty but my birthday's in a month, and I'm also a fourth year. I'm in music tech at NYU."

Brittany smiles again and nods. "See, not strangers?" Santana smiles and chuckles and she feels a prickle of curiosity trickle through her chest when Brittany ducks her head down to hide the pink blooming in her cheeks.

"Do you want me to go first?" Santana asks without really thinking about it, and Brittany meets her eyes from below her lashes and nods, chewing on her bottom lip. Santana settles more comfortably in her chair, scootching it a little closer to the table before she reaches for the first cue card on the stack labelled One in front of her and flips it over. "Given the choice of anyone in the world," she reads aloud, "whom would you want as a dinner guest?"

"Dead or alive?" Brittany wonders aloud.

Santana shrugs and rereads the question to herself. "It doesn't say, so, either?"

"Then Bernhard Riemann," Brittany answers easily. "I just want to pick his brain on where he came up with the prime-counting function and how he feels knowing that his hypothesis still isn't proved. Ooh, also I wanna know his thoughts on Einstein's theory of relativity and Stephen Hawking's gravitational singularities. Though he is German," Brittany says thoughtfully, "I don't know how fast I could learn German." Santana has no clue what Brittany just said, but there's this addicting sparkle of passion in her eyes and Santana finds herself nodding and smiling at Brittany. "What about you?" Brittany asks.

Santana thinks for a moment, before she gives a half shrug and half smile. "Stevie Nicks," she says. "She's just— Her music meant a lot to me when I was growing up and I would love to be able to talk to her about her writing process and just— Just ask her about everything she's done."

"That would be really cool," Brittany agrees with a soft smile.

Santana tosses the card on the table and it slides until it's almost at the recording equipment. "Discard pile," Santana says sheepishly.

Brittany laughs and picks up her own cue card. "Would you like to be famous? In what way?"

Santana chews thoughtfully on her lip, but she already knows the answer. "Yeah," she mumbles, and when blue eyes turn curious she swallows thickly. This is somehow so much more intense than Santana thought it would be, sharing her desires and aspirations with a complete stranger, but there's also a heady rushing throughout her veins at how rapt and addicting Brittany's attention is. "I've wanted to be a musician since I was really young," she finally elaborates.

Brittany tips her head slightly to the side; not challenging, just curious. "What stopped you?"

Santana shrugs and looks away from Brittany's too bright gaze. "I dunno. Money, work, luck, life in general. I went into music tech because I figured it would be as close as I could get to the industry."

Brittany nods thoughtfully. "I think you would make a good musician."

"Yeah?" Santana asks, and she can't quite squash the little flicker of hope under her sternum.

Brittany nods definitively. "Totally. You've got the whole look and everything. And your talking voice is really pretty and nice to listen to, so you probably have a really beautiful singing voice." Santana blinks and opens her mouth to respond, but that hint of pink is in Brittany's cheeks again and she quickly continues. "I wanted to be a dancer when I was young, but I got a full ride math scholarship instead. And, I mean, apartments and New York."

Santana laughs and focuses on that little blossoming of warmth in her stomach. Brittany is bright and earnest and thoughtful, and Santana feels more at ease with her than she's felt in a very long time. "Tell me about it. My friend and I share an apartment and half the time we're living under threat of our electricity being shut off," she laughs and reaches for the next cue card. Brittany's eyes remain bright on her face and she fights off her own blush. "Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?"

"Never," Brittany answers with a smirk.

"Never?" Santana laughs and sets the card down on the discard pile.

"Nope," Brittany says, popping the p. "I really like to wing it."

Santana laughs. "Oh I do it every time. I rehearse what I'm going to say when I answer the phone."

"Really?" Brittany asks, and there's this bright smile scrunching her cheeks up against her eyes.

Santana nods. "Unless it's, like, my mom, I always have about six different scripts of what I'm going to say in any given situation."

Brittany's smile turns lopsided again, teasing and warm, and Santana feels that weird spasming in her chest again. "What would constitute a 'perfect' day for you?" she reads from the next card.

Santana thinks back to how she's been spending her days lately, stressed out and locked in the apartment, and how much she enjoyed herself when her and Mercedes both have days off in the summer and they can wander down to the park by their apartment, a guitar in one hand and a busking permit in the other. Santana explains it to Brittany and worries that she's not describing how magical it is, her and Mercedes' voices harmonizing together and people pausing for a moment or two before throwing some change into their guitar case, but with the way Brittany's eyes sparkle and her small smile scrunches her cheeks, Santana knows that Brittany understands. Santana flushes and feels a little overwhelmed by the soft look on Brittany's face. "What about you?" she asks quickly.

Brittany tactfully doesn't say anything about the quick question and instead just shrugs a little. "I love spending the day at the dance studio," she says as she reaches for the next cue card, "Or even just running dumb little errands with my friends. I dunno why but there's something fun about wandering around a Drug Store for no real reason." She flips the next card over and Santana watches as her eyes dart across the card to read it quickly to herself before she reads it aloud. "When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?"

"Well I sang to myself in the shower this morning, obviously," Santana answers quickly.

Brittany giggles and Santana smiles involuntarily at the adorable sound; she's quickly finding herself becoming addicted to the warm feeling in her chest whenever she makes Brittany laugh. "Me too, obviously. The last time I sang to someone was probably to my neighbour. Our cats like to hang out and I think Lord Tubbington has a crush on his cat so I like to provide the serenading for him."

Santana tries not to laugh, she really does, but— "Lord Tubbington?" Santana asks incredulously around her giggles, watching as Brittany takes on a mock-admonishing look.

"Tubbs is very sensitive about his weight," she says seriously, and even though Santana has known her for probably about fifteen minutes, she can already see the amusement in Brittany's eyes despite her serious frown; it's in the way her eyes crinkle up at the corners and turn catlike and sparkling, and Santana just giggles harder when Brittany's face breaks and she bursts out laughing too. "Actually," she adds through her giggles, "It was my sister's birthday on Tuesday so it was probably then. Tubbs and I did a very beautiful serenade to her. She hung up halfway through."

"Mercedes and I sing around the apartment a lot actually," Santana finally manages through her amusement, a smile still stretched across her face.

Brittany smiles in response and Santana quickly ducks her head and grabs the next card. She's not sure what it is, but there's something about Brittany that makes it disarmingly easy to be honest, something that makes her want to crack herself wide open in front of her; she wonders if the other research participants are feeling this way, if that's the whole point of this research, to see how vulnerable you can be with a stranger, hoping and trusting that they won't make you regret it.

Santana hasn't known Brittany that long, but she has a feeling she won't regret opening up to her.

(She briefly wonders if all this is to test the idea of love at first sight. Santana's never believed in it before, but Brittany's open and easy and kind and her laugh makes Santana's chest spasm and now she's starting to wonder—)

"If you were able to live to the age of ninety," Santana reads, and her heart sinks as her eyes dart to the rest of the question; she already knows that her answer for this one will hurt, "and retain either the mind or body of a thirty year-old for the last sixty years of your life, which would you want?"

Brittany hesitates for a moment. "The body."

"Well with legs like that," Santana agrees, and then immediately flushes.

Brittany flushes too and ducks her head with a smile. "If I could keep dancing until I was ninety years old I would die happy," she says, "I don't need all the math stuff up here." She gestures to her head and Santana manages a small smile. Brittany seems to sense something different with Santana's answer and lets her hand fall to the table, leaning forward slightly with her brows drawn together in concern. "What would you choose?"

"I'd want the mind," Santana says quietly.

"Why?" Brittany prompts just as softly.

"My abuela had Alzheimer's and she— Well let's just say I had to re-come out to her a lot because of— This—" Santana hesitates and sighs, digging her nail into the edge of the table and picking at the cheap plastic surrounding the small edge. "This dumb thing. And she never took it too well."

"I'm sorry," Brittany whispers, and when Santana glances up Brittany looks so earnest that something in Santana's chest eases. "That really sucks."

Santana shrugs and manages a small smile before reaching for her water bottle. "Yeah, it really does," she agrees softly, covering the lump in her throat with a gulp of water.

Brittany swallows and reaches for the next cue card, glancing up at Santana for permission to continue, and Santana's chest does that spasming thing again. She nods and screws the cap back on her water bottle. "Man these last two are dark," Brittany mutters before clearing her throat slightly. "Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?"

Santana frowns as she thinks. "I have absolutely no clue. Old age probably? I dunno, I can't say I've ever thought about it before." Santana glances at Brittany and sees her eyes still focused on the cue card. "What about you?" she prompts.

Brittany shakes her head and shrugs. "Cancer. Isn't that how everyone dies these days?"

Santana wrinkles her nose. "Morbid," she says.

Brittany shrugs and seems to hesitate for moment before she sighs a little, and Santana's chest aches at how sad she sounds. "All of my grandparents died of cancer," she explains emotionlessly, as if she's thought about this a lot before, "So I'm at a higher risk than most people."

Santana wants to reach out and take Brittany's hand, but she settles for offering Brittany a smile she hopes is sympathetic. "I'm sorry," she says, and she thinks of what Brittany just said to her and hopes that it's enough, "That really sucks."

Brittany cracks a tiny, knowing smile and glances up at Santana. "Thanks," she murmurs.

Santana reaches for the next cue card and hopes it's not as heavy as the last two. She wants Brittany's eyes to light up again with a desperation she doesn't quite understand. "Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common," she reads. She only has to think for a moment before she offers, "Music. You're a dancer and I'm a musician."

Brittany hums and looks thoughtful before she gets this sharp, wicked gleam in her eyes, turning them catlike again. "We both like girls," she says, and the way she emphasizes like makes Santana flush and makes Brittany look bright and proud.

"We, uh," Santana stutters, "We, um, we're both not from New York?"

"I'm from Indiana," Brittany agrees. "I grew up in Decatur."

Santana relaxes and brightens (and tries to ignore her still hot blush). "No way! I'm from Lima."

Brittany grins. "What really? We grew up, like, an hour from each other." Santana laughs as Brittany reaches for the next card. "If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?" she asks.

Santana hesitates and glances at the card in Brittany's hands. "I wish my mom left my father sooner. She— She wasn't happy, and he's a big part of why I fought with internal homophobia so much. But she thought I should have my father in my life, which, I mean for some kids they do need that second parent but, I dunno." Santana shrugs a little and glances up to find Brittany's eyes rapt and earnest on her. "I never really needed anyone but my mom. What about you?"

Brittany chews on her lip and Santana's eyes are drawn to the movement. Her cheeks flush again and she quickly looks back up to Brittany's eyes; she kind of feels like she's not going to stop blushing today, and it's a little embarrassing. But Brittany's eyes are on the cue card in Santana's hands and she's still chewing on her lip, and Santana's embarrassment fades completely away and she finds herself leaning closer to Brittany. "I wish—" she starts and then bites down harder on her lip. "I wish that my teachers and my parents realized I had dyslexia earlier."

"Oh yeah?" Santana prompts gently when Brittany trails off.

Brittany blinks and gives Santana a slightly lopsided smile. "Yeah. It's pretty mild, but I really struggled with school through most of elementary. It wasn't until my sixth grade counsellor tested me and got me the right resources that I actually started to understand my classes."

"That sucks," Santana murmurs, "but at least you eventually got it worked out. And now," Santana grins at Brittany, delighting in the returning grin it elicits, "Well, now you obviously do very well in school, Ms. Full Ride Math Scholarship."

Brittany flushes so bright that it obscures the freckles along her cheeks and Santana's breath catches. She's just reaching for the next card, one eye on Brittany's blush and one eye making sure she only picks up one card, when the door swings open and a researcher pokes her head in, causing Santana to jump and Brittany to start giggling. "It's been thirty minutes," the researcher announces. "It's time to move on to set two."

Brittany and Santana look at each other in shock as the researcher closes the door. "It's been half an hour?" Brittany says in disbelief, "It does not feel like that much time has passed."

"I thought we were doing good on time," Santana agrees, tossing the card still in her hand onto the discard pile. Brittany shoves the last two cards of set one over to the edge of the table, out of both of their reach. "That's crazy."

Brittany studies Santana for a moment, chewing on her lip again. "This might sound a little weird, or like, kinda creepy, but I feel like I know you, you know?"

Santana smiles and catches Brittany's eyes, the bright blue boring into her own eyes until Santana feels a little like Brittany is staring right into her soul. "No, I know what you mean," Santana finally manages when she feels like Brittany's eyes aren't going to make her crumble. "It's kinda weird how comfortable I already feel around you," she agrees.

"I, uh, I guess that's the point of this whole thing, huh?" Brittany asks softly.

Santana swallows thickly as she nods and the moment stretches out between them until Santana feels a little like she's falling. She blinks quickly and clears her throat. "Uh, we should probably keep going, so we don't run out of time," she tries to suggest but it comes out a lot quieter than she intended, and she thinks it's because her heart seems to have relocated to her throat to make room for the butterflies fluttering around her ribs.

Brittany nods and shoots Santana a small, shy smile as she reaches for the first card of set two.