I couldn't decide whether to put this under Santana + Brittany or Santana + Quinn. I decided on Santana + Quinn in the end because although there are strong Brittana themes included in the story I'll most likely keep the focus around Santana and Quinn's experiences.

This is my first future fic and I'm really excited to see how readers of my other fic will like it as it's kind of the opposite in a lot of ways!

Anyway, here's part one, enjoy.

It was literally a perfect day for a wedding. It was spring, but warm enough that the ceremony could be held outside in the bright sun, surrounded by new flowers and twittering birds. Quinn Fabray, knowing the couple well sat in the front row wringing her hands in anxiety. All of her friends from high school were sitting around her, chattering excitedly while she tried not to hyperventilate.

Eventually the talking died down as the band began playing the traditional wedding march. Everyone's heads whipped round to take in the sight of the bride walking down the make-shift aisle, Quinn's joined them and she didn't quite prevent a gasp escaping her throat.

Brittany strode confidently and happily towards the altar, a delirious smile plastered on her face looking absolutely beautiful and because it was Brittany, Quinn smiled too.

Then all too quickly she was at the altar; the vows began and Quinn's head began to swim, she couldn't believe this was happening. She tuned back in to what was happening in front of her just as the words "...do you take Brittany Susan Pierce to be your lawfully wedded wife?" were uttered by the priest.

"I do."

Quinn swallowed and she felt as though she was going to cry.

"And do you Brittany Susan Pierce, take Santana Lopez to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Brittany's smile if possible, grew wider. "I do."

And in that moment a single gunshot rang out and the world stopped spinning.

"Ms. Fabray, Ms. Fabray?" a voice was saying in her ear as a hand gently shook her shoulder. She opened her eyes slowly and with a euphoric rush of relief she realized the wedding, that goddamn wedding had been a dream. Her new secretary Rose was standing over her with a worried expression on her face.

"Sorry Rose, I had a late night. Did I miss something important?" Quinn mumbled, sitting up straight in her chair and taking the coffee Rose was holding out to her.

Rose had taken the job a few weeks ago after Quinn's last secretary had hit her big break on a prime-time television show, ironically through Quinn's rival agency. That had pissed her off. On the other hand, as timid and clumsy as Rose was Quinn could already tell she was dedicated and loyal, two qualities she wish were present in more people in her life. And she made near-perfect coffee, a quality she valued even more.

"Um, Rachel Berry called. She sounded kind of mad." Rose stuttered. Quinn closed her eyes and cursed loudly, she'd been wondering when Rachel was going to find out about Quinn passing on an audition she'd wanted to another client.

"How mad are we talking?" Quinn asked, blowing lightly across her coffee. Rose sat down in the chair opposite Quinn's desk and clasped her hands.

"You remember that time Noah Puckerman called in to that talk show she was on and pretended to be her imaginary girlfriend?"

Quinn shifted in her chair nervously, "Less mad than that time?" she asked hopefully.

"I'd say twice as mad." Rose replied.

"Fuck, I didn't realize she wanted the part so badly. Seriously though they specifically asked for tall athletic types, what did she want me to do? Put her on a steroid program and hand her a pair of stilts before the audition?" Quinn wondered aloud, half to Rose and half to herself.

"I don't know, I had to hold the phone away from my ear most of the time while she was talking to me or, or rather-"

"Talking at you, yeah I can imagine." Quinn finished for her.

"She threatened to find another agent." Rose continued, casting another worried look at Quinn. Her boss simply chuckled however and lifted a pen from her desk; wheeled her chair across to her noticeboard and added another stroke to a very long tally chart entitled 'Berry's attempted diva-strops'.

"Is that accurate?" Rose asked, gesturing towards the chart. Quinn looked closely as though searching for some sort of mistake.

"Forty... three. Yep, that's correct, this is the forty-third time she's threatened to replace me."

"Wow, do you think she ever will?" Rose asked with curiosity. Quinn gave another chuckle and picked up her phone.

"I've known the girl since high school, I doubt it. I'll call her back now." she replied, signaling that Rose give her some privacy.

"Sure thing Ms. Fabray." the girl said, standing up and smiling slightly. Quinn called her name just as she was about to shut the door.

"Yes?"

"Please Rose, call me Quinn. And thanks for the coffee."

"Sure thing, no problem Ms. Fab- I mean Quinn." with that Quinn was left alone in her sound-proofed office and she began dialing one of the many numbers she knew off by heart. When it rang out and she heard the answering machine however it wasn't the bossy tones of Rachel Berry greeting her ears.

"Hi, it's me. Are you working tonight? I need to talk to you, it's uh... it's kind of important. I'll try your cell later I guess, but call me back if you get this Santana."


When Santana Lopez awoke that afternoon the first thing she noticed was that she had new messages, the second thing she noticed was that Claire had left half of her clothing behind for the third time that month. Sitting up slowly she rubbed her eyes and squinted at her answering machine. Three new messages.

Her fat tabby cat lazed on the other pillow, Santana smiled and scratched her behind the ear. Woofer purred deeply and rolled over on to her stomach. Deciding she'd better listen to her messages when she was properly awake she stood up and stretched, then padded to the kitchen in her bare-feet and underwear. Claire had brewed a pot of coffee and it was still hot, Santana smiled. She knew she kept that girl around for a reason.

Pouring her first, but by no means last coffee of the day Santana sauntered in to her tiny living room and flicked on the television. Was that Rachel Berry on day-time T.V. again? She groaned and muted it, standing up again and walking back to her bedroom. Draining her coffee cup she pulled out fresh clothes and stepped in to her en-suite.

Half an hour later Santana stepped out of her shower, feeling refreshed and somewhat ready for her shift at Valerie's that night. As she slipped in to a pair of tight black jeans and an ivy-coloured tank top she remembered the flashing "(3)" on her answering machine.

Sitting down on her bed again she hit the play button and went about brushing her long, dark hair whilst Woofer pawed at her lap.

"Hi San, I think I left my bra at your place again. And my socks. And maybe my jacket." Claire's voice purred through the speaker, sure enough Santana saw the afore mentioned items scattered around her bedroom.

"I'm working tonight anyway, would you be able to swing by the club later if you're working the earlier shift?" the message continued, Santana hit the 'Next' button, knowing some sort of affectionate end to Claire's message was coming and not wanting to hear it.

"Lopez, it's Skillet. Would you be able to do me a huge favour and cover my shift on Saturday? I finally asked Sara out and she said yes to dinner, I'll owe you big time." the next message was shorter and Santana rolled her eyes

"Yeah I bet you will." she mumbled, standing up to get another coffee.

She'd almost forgotten about the last message but as she was about to walk through to the hall Quinn Fabray's voice met her ears and she whipped round, Quinn never left her messages. She knew Santana hated them and always waited till she was available on her cell or at work.

"Hi, it's me. Are you working tonight? I need to talk to you, it's uh... it's kind of important. I'll try your cell later I guess, but call me back if you get this Santana."

Santana frowned. What had she done this time? It wasn't even her fault the last time her and Berry had caused a scene, Berry goes to Santana's club, she plays by her rules. End of story. Though something in the tone of Quinn's voice hinted that it was more important than Santana getting Berry bad press somewhat intentionally.

She checked her watch. 15:37. Quinn always had her calls screened between two and four and Santana hated Quinn's secretaries by default. So she fumbled around in her bed till she found her cell and sent her a quick message before picking up her keys and shoes and heading out.

'Hey Fabgay, I start work at 8, Joe's on the doors tonight so you can just head straight in and get me at the bar. See you tonight x'


At 9:30PM Quinn stepped out of a cab and headed towards Valerie's, wincing as she always did at the already inebriated men loitering outside smoking. Santana's favourite bouncer Joe gave her a toothy grin as she approached and yelled at the line of people having IDs checked and such to stand the fuck back and let the 'pretty lady' through.

"Hey Joe, how are things?" Quinn greeted.

"Oh you know, same old wankers, different night." he replied. Quinn smiled, like Santana she loved Joe's London accent and dialect. "Is Santana busy?"

"N'more than usual I think."

"Alright, thanks." Quinn said and she stepped through the double doors in to LA's most infamous strip club. She spotted Santana immediately, which was surprising considering she was surrounded by no fewer than six of her regulars. For a bartender in a strip club she certainly got plenty of attention.

Making her way delicately through the crowd of men (and women) wolf-whistling and cheering at the women on stage Quinn tapped a regular named Steven on the back and he whirled around irritably. Upon seeing it was Quinn however he made a space for her at the bar and called Santana over.

"Hey Satan, Blondie is here." he said with a grin. When Santana didn't turn round immediately he added "And she wants to buy me a drink, the randy bitch!"

Quinn blushed but giggled nonetheless as Santana's head whipped round faster than the speed of light.

"Piss off Steven, you can flirt with Quinn later." Santana said affectionately as she made her way down to their end of the bar. "Hi." Quinn half shouted over the noise.

"I'm taking my break now Skillet!" Santana yelled behind her at a tall young man with more piercings than muscles.

"Sup Fabgay." she said more quietly, lifting up the bar and gesturing for Quinn to follow her in to the staff room. Quinn rolled her eyes and took a seat across the table from her best friend who had opened the window and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

"Firstly, stop calling me that. I'm not gay. Secondly, do you really have to smoke around me?" Quinn whined. Santana closed her lighter again but the cigarette she had placed between her lips remained dangling there.

"Firstly, I'm not the devil incarnate but I'm still stuck with the name. Secondly, what's this about?" Santana replied as she stretched her legs out and crossed her arms behind her head.

"I beg to differ, even your regulars know-"

"That's purely because of last year's Halloween costume." Santana interrupted with a scowl.

"Bullshit, you've had that name for years." Quinn countered. Santana threw a cushion from the patched sofa at her but Quinn ducked and continued speaking.

"It's about you and Brittany." she said quietly. Santana paused as she was closing the window and pushed it open again, fumbling for her lighter.

"What about us?" she asked, once she'd lit her cigarette and taken a long drag.

"I think you two might get back together." Quinn said, then immediately holding her breath. Santana frowned for a moment and inhaled another lungful of menthol smoke.

"That's not fucking funny." She spat.

"I- I just have this feeling." Quinn said lamely. Santana snorted and walked over to the refrigerator in the corner, pulling out two bottles of mineral water. She threw one to Quinn then took a gulp from the other before sitting down again.

"You're Quinn Fabray, you don't go by feelings." she said eventually.

Quinn toyed with the cap on her water and wouldn't meet Santana's eyes.

"When was the last time you saw Brittany?" she asked. Santana looked confused and took another sip of water before answering.

"Um, a couple of weeks ago or something? We went to see the new Harry Potter movie and got take-out afterwards."

"You two are so fucking weird." Quinn stated flatly, finally unscrewing her water and taking a drink.

"What do you mean?" Santana asked with an amused smile on her face.

"You spent four years of high school fucking every other night-"

"Five." Santana interrupted in a bored sounding tone.

"Five, whatever. And a year dating when we moved here, now you're both with other people and act like hanging out regularly is completely normal." Quinn finished looking irritated.

Santana looked thoughtful; stubbed out her cigarette and crossed her legs before answering.

"You didn't believe in contraception or using the word 'fuck' when we started high school, but you're hardly a devout Catholic now, things change. People change. And for the record I'm not 'with' anyone, I just like getting my chain yanked regularly."

"I'm a Protestant." Quinn replied shortly.

"Really? When did that happen?" Santana asked with genuine surprise in her voice.

"When we were eighteen. At your church. On my birthday." Quinn said rolling her eyes.

"My family's church." Santana corrected.

"I was never the religious type as you know."

"Whatever, you were still there." Quinn said curtly.

"Right okay I'm sorry, what does all this have to do with me and Brittany getting back together? I think I would know something about that." Santana replied, setting her water down on the table and lying full length across the sofa.

"It was a dream." Quinn confessed. Santana let out a groan.

"Another one of your fucking dreams Quinn? Really? That's why I'm spending my break listen to you natter on about Brittany instead of chatting with my girls?" she asked.

"They're not your girls." Quinn opted to point out instead of answering Santana's question.

"Claire is." Santana replied with a wicked grin.

"Clarissa? I thought you weren't dating."

"Oooh I love it when people use her work name in normal conversation, makes me feel so trashy. And sex isn't dating." Santana said with a smirk. Quinn rolled her eyes and took another sip of mineral water.

"Point is Satan-" Santana scowled at the nickname. "-that I'm usually right about this kind of stuff." Quinn said completely seriously. Santana sat up and stared Quinn down.

"Dreaming the Red Sox would lose three games in a row and it happening, does not make you a psychic." Santana stated bluntly.

"It was the Cubs actually ." Quinn corrected snidely.

"Whatever, I read that all psychics are just delusional." Santana retorted.

"You spend too much time on the internet."

"You spend too much time not getting laid." Santana said innocently.

"Whatever Santana, but when Arthur-"

"Asshat?"

"-calls me up to tell me him and Brittany have broken up, I have every right to say I told you so." Quinn said standing up and fastening her coat.

"Don't worry, I'll be too busy enjoying multiple orgasms courtesy of Claire while you're masturbating with your office supplies." Santana replied lazily as she too stood up.

"You're so gross, and I am not in my office that much." Quinn replied defensively with a look of disgust on her face.

"Whatever Fabgay, swing by on Saturday, I'm working the late shift." Santana said as she placed a strangely affectionate kiss on Quinn's cheek. Quinn pulled her in to a quick hug before exiting to the bar.

"It's your birthday this weekend you dumbfuck, everyone will be here on Saturday." she called behind her as she waved goodbye.


Six hours later Santana was being helped in to a cab by an attractive blonde woman in her early twenties.

"You drink too much at work sweetie." she whispered as she climbed in after her.

"That's because I can and you can't." Santana slurred, giggling slightly. Claire rolled her eyes and gave the cab driver Santana's address.

Santana leaned in to Claire as they drove on in silence. After a few minutes she poked Claire in the ribs and the other woman squealed. "Stop it! What is it? You're not gonna puke are you, because I'm really horny." Claire asked, tucking a strand of dark hair behind Santana's ear.

"Me? Puke? Bitch please." Santana said with another giggle.

"No, I was wondering if we could get some take-out on the way home."

"We're on the way home already, we'll be there in like two minutes." Claire answered patiently. Santana groaned.

"Right."

When they staggered slightly out of the elevator and in to Santana's apartment Claire noticed Santana had new messages on her answering machine almost straight away. Not in the mood for any interruptions however she began removing her clothes the moment Santana flung herself back on the bed with a satisfied sigh.

Claire slipped in between the sheets and pressed a kiss on to Santana's neck, who seemed to be revived by the contact and immediately flipped over on to her side and removed her own clothing with the other woman's help.

As Claire's experienced hands unhooked Santana's bra the bartender smiled for the millionth time at how easy the whole arrangement was. They had an understanding. They both liked sex and lots of it, Claire was hot, they got on well enough at work and their boss didn't give a fuck what they did as long as they didn't screw up the atmosphere at the club by dating and going through some messy break-up.

Through her drunken haze she remembered it takes two to tango and pushed Claire down on to the bed, pulling her hair back and nipping along her collarbone. A low moan escaped Claire's throat as her hips bucked and Santana lowered herself in between the blonde's open legs.

"Fuck San, it's been too long." Claire said huskily as Santana palmed one of her breasts.

"It's been twenty-four hours give or take." Santana replied with a bewildered tone, her hands working their way lower and lower down the other woman's body.

"Really? It feels longer." Claire replied, gasping as she suddenly felt Santana's deft fingers inside her. Santana didn't bother to reply and instead worked up a steady rhythm with her thumb on Claire's swollen clit, thrusting her other fingers in and out as the blonde raked her nails down Santana's back and whimpered.

It didn't take long for Santana to bring Claire to a shuddering climax and when she did she rolled over on to her side and mumbled a sleepy "Goodnight." once she had recovered Claire sat up.

"You're going to sleep?" she asked with confusion in her voice.

"I'm not in the mood, go to sleep." was all Santana said as way of an explanation. Still feeling confused Claire rolled on to the other side of the bed and fell in to a deep slumber.


When the alarm on her cellphone started buzzing, Claire automatically switched it off. Looking behind her she saw that the bed was empty. Strange, Santana rarely left her bed till at least noon, especially after drinking the night before. Her cellphone told her it was 10AM however and Santana was nowhere to be seen; judging by the lack of car keys on the bedside table she probably wasn't in the apartment at all.

After searching every room (Woofer glared at her when Claire disturbed her in the boiler cupboard) and brewing a pot of coffee Claire decided Santana had something to think about judging by her lack of interest in sex last night. She took her coffee back in to Santana's bedroom and wrapped herself in the sheets again, feeling cold.

She sipped her coffee slowly and wondered how many messages she would going home to later. Her eyes flicked to Santana's answering machine and she saw a vivid "(1)" glinting next to the New Messages label.

After the unexpected visit from Quinn Fabray at work last night and Santana's strange behaviour last night Claire couldn't help herself and hit the 'Play' button. A voice she recognized as Santana's ex filtered nervously through the speakers.

"Hi San, it's me. Brittany." There was a pause.

"I was wondering if you could meet me early on Saturday? I kinda want to talk to you about something, it's important. Call me back okay? Love you." After replaying the message three times Claire registered the surge of jealousy rising in her chest and took a deep breath.

She liked fucking Santana, she liked it so much she was willing to look past the fact that's all Santana wanted her for. But she didn't like fucking Santana enough to cater to that stupid ex of hers needs. Her hand hovered over the machine for a few minutes before she pressed down firmly on the delete button.

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