So I ended up writing another Brittana fanfic. I'll post this chapter to see how you guys like it. Please leave a review so I can decide whether I finish the story or not. I hope you enjoy it!
Brittany let out a deep sigh, in the hope of Rachel finally noticing that her patience was at an end, but, of course, Rachel was too busy to notice. Or she just didn't want to notice.
''All right, let me try another one.'' Rachel thought for a moment before she looked at the homeless man, which asked them around thirty minutes ago for a few dollars to buy weed. And they still weren't back at their apartment. ''You're gonna love this one.''
''Aaand we got nothing to be guilty of,'' Rachel sung, louder this time, in an attempt to convince the man, but to her disappointment he picked his mustache and shook his head, again.
''Who doesn't know Guilty?'' Rachel spoke in an almost annoyed voice while she raised her eyebrow at Brittany, as if she wanted her to agree with her.
Brittany thought it was best to just agree with her, since she wanted to get out of here. People were starting to look at this weird going-on and Brittany couldn't blame them. The man had simply asked them for a few dollars to buy weed, and Rachel, with her gift to change every random subject of conversation in 'Barbra Streisand', had struck again.
She swung the bag with 'healthy food', as Rachel called it, to draw her attention. ''Tacos are getting cold Rach.'' They ordered for three people, just in case their new roommate arrived early, but Brittany wondered if anyone who didn't know Rachel and her rare eating habits would dare to eat the biological, environment friendly looking food.
Rachel slowly came back to earth. ''Right.'' She tossed a few dollars towards the homeless man and gave him a pitiful glance. ''You should Google her, you don't know what you're missing out on.''
Brittany linked their arms and started walking, dragging along a still not convinced looking Rachel. She was tired after a long day of classes plus, more or less, mandatory hanging out with Rachel because she locked them out again (''Really Brittany, I ran into Andy and he really needed my help choosing a tie for his au pair's wedding. What did you wanted me to do? Let the poor boy leave with a hideous tie with pigs on it?'') In reality Rachel just had a big crush on their neighbor but Brittany didn't have the heart to tell her that he clearly was exuberant gay. It kind of surprised her Rachel herself didn't notice yet since she was surrounded by gays almost every minute of her day, but okay.
''I just can't believe he doesn't know Barbra Streisand,'' Rachel chatted cheerfully. ''I mean, who doesn't know Funny Girl? It´s legendary.''
''Not everybody is obsessed with her like you Rachel.''
Rachel raised her head haughtily. ''It should be part of every children's education.''
''Of course,'' Brittany muttered as they walked up the staircase to the sixth floor. This building really needed an elevator, or at least a wheelchair lift so they didn't had to lug their groceries all the way up to the top floor.
To their surprise, but also confusion their front door stood wide open, which probably meant their new roommate had arrived earlier than expected, or that their psychopathic Polish neighbor broke into their house. Brittany just hoped for the first option since the last time Marcela broke in they weren't able to sleep for five days because she destroyed their radiator which led to freezing their asses off until the mechanic could come over to fix it. Besides that, Rachel was afraid to death of Marcela, she always put on a spurt when she passed her apartment.
But their apartment was empty and just when Rachel wanted to unpack their bag, a loud noise emerged from the bathroom.
Rachel squeaked and immediately ducked away behind the kitchen unit, protecting her head with her arms by wrapping them around her face, and pointed towards the bathroom.
''I bet it's Putin again. It's your turn to check Britt,'' her voice shoot up.
Brittany frowned. ''I'm pretty sture Putin isn't Polish.'' She grabbed the five days old baguette from the kitchen unit to, just in case, use as a weapon since it was hard like cement and then slowly stealed towards the bathroom.
As she got closer, the noise got louder and louder, and –after a deep inhale- she swung open the door by hitting it with the baguette to find a girl on the bathroom floor, kneeling in front of a suitcase.
The Latina girl looked up with an annoyed expression on her face and rolled her eyes when she noticed Brittany.
''Geez finally,'' she turned off her hair dryer and made a desperate gesture towards her suitcase. ''Don't you people have a tumble dryer?''
Brittany looked at the completely soaked suitcase she was pointing at. The suitcase, including its content was flooded. She tried hard to contain her laugh, which resulted in snorting loudly, clearly to the other girl's irritation. Rachel turned up behind her. Apparently she stated that it was safe to enter the bathroom since Brittany didn't get attacked by Marcela or Putin.
''Oh my god!'' Rachel exulted by seeing the girl. Before the girl could back off Rachel had already pulled her in a tight embrace, whether the girl wanted or not. Seen the surprised but –again- annoyed look she gave Brittany, Rachel had chosen the wrong type of greeting.
''Whoa-whoa,'' the girl pulled back to fix her hair. ''You'd better not fuck up this hairdo 'cause I pawned off my mother's boots for it.''
Rachel clearly didn't notice the girl's sarcastisch tone of voice because she got lost in her usual flood of words.
''I'm Rachel Berry, which you probably already knew,'' Rachel paused for a moment to grant them a delight smile with her perfectly bleeched tooth –seriously, who gives their daughter teeth whitening for Christmas?- before she continued. She put an arm around Brittany. ''And this is Brittany, also your new roommate. Oh and-,'' she grabbled in her back pocket to pull out a plasticized photo of herself and quickly provided it with her autograph, then handing it over to the stunned girl.
She took hold of the picture and just stared at it for a few moments, in the first instance too baffled to utter anything –or anything decent since the photo was hilarious, Brittany had to admit-.
''Okay wow,'' she spoke while she handed the photo back to Rachel. ''That photo is just creeping the shit out of me, you'd better keep it unless you want me to be awake every night. And I also have no fucking clue who you are.''
Brittany saw Rachel flinching just a little, which kind of made Brittany feel sorry for her. It wasn't her fault she couldn't restrain her word flood, yet her enthusiasm.
''I'm Rachel Berry,'' she said carrying it off. ''I'm currently playing Glinda in Wicked, on Broadway. Oh, and I also played Fanny Brice.'' The moment she mouthed 'Fanny' her eyes started sparkling and her cheeks turned red with excitement. It was only a matter of time for her to inform the girl about all the ins and outs concerning Funny Girl or Broadway.
The girl slowly shook her head. ''Nope never heard of. But just for now, I'll call you nose. Suits you better.'' She grinned at her own joke, probably mentally high-fiving herself.
Rachel gave Brittany a look which probably meant 'who the hell does she think she is? Say something Brittany' while she crossed her arms, but Brittany found the fact that – for once- somebody didn't know who she was priceless, so she wisely shut her mouth and leaned back against the door-post, enjoying the going-on.
''And who do you think you are?'' Rachel said haughtily.
The girl let out a deep sigh and stood up, hysterically running her hands through her long black hair. ''I'm Santana and I need a fucking tumble dryer, ASAP.'' She tossed her semi-dry clothes back in her suitcase and started lugging it across the tiny apartment with Rachel hot on her heels.
''Well it's not your lucky day, the laundromat is closed today,'' Rachel blurted, seeming satisfied she could boycott some of Santana's plans seen she just insulted Funny Girl and Broadway. And her nose. Nobody messes with Rachel Berry's nose.
Santana snorted, not looking a tiny bit impressed or intimidated by Rachel. ''Please go cry in the corner of this room while you enjoy all the free air that your nose is absorbing the goddamn time while you leave us-,'' she nodded towards Brittany, ''with nearly enough oxygen to even care about your childish problems, let alone our own.''
Rachel seemed upset, but recovered quickly. But before she could snap something back at Santana, Brittany intervened.
''We'll figure out something for your clothes Santana,'' she quickly said. ''In the mean time you can wear something from me.''
So, a few hours later, the peace was all but restored. Brittany had given Santana the Grand Tour, including her room, the roof garden and balconey, and Rachel had calmed down by taking a therapeutic shower, which for her meant showering for about one hour long while singing the most annoying Broadway songs ever. Now they were hanging on the couch, pointlessly staring at the TV, Santana wearing one of Brittany's fluffy sweaters with a bright animal print. Brittany glanced at Santana from the corner of her eye, and she had to admit it looked sort of cute.
''What are you laughing at Blondie?''
Shit. She really noticed everything.
''Uh you know. That sweater's shape does really good things to your figure,'' Brittany muttered. ''Accentuates your strong, uh, features.'' She had blurted it without thinking and now realized she would probably get the works. But she didn't.
Santana didn't look up from the TV but sniggered. ''I know right?''
They continued watching TV in silence, although Brittany wasn't really paying attention since she wasn't really interested in programs about musicals, but Rachel seemed to enjoy it. Most of the time Brittany hogged the remote to watch programs about animals, so it was fair to Rachel.
''Okay I'm sorry,'' Santana broke the silence. ''I'm bored to death and I think I'm not the only one.'' She gave Brittany a meaningful glance, but rolled her eyes when Brittany shrugged.
''Can we please watch Tiaras and Toddlers? I'm sick of Gay Channel.''
Rachel sighed and dropped the remote on Santana's lap on her way to the kitchen. Santana immediately zapped to TLC and turned around so she could face Brittany.
She ducked her head to the kitchen. ''Is she always like that?''
Brittany caught herself in a split second knowing what Santana meant, and she kind of had to do with Rachel. What Santana meant was Rachel's enthusiasm about practically everything, which resulted in word floods, what characterized her. Strangers or people who didn't know her well mostly had to get used to her behavior, just like Brittany had to in the beginning of High School.
''Yeah,'' Brittany stated. She didn't see the point in beating about the bush. ''She's really nice. You just have to get used to her though,'' she added quickly. And people have to get used to your bitchy personality too.
Santana just nodded and went back to watching TV, leaving the object of discussion.
''So what's the deal with you anyway? Where are you from?'' Brittany couldn't contain her curiosity about the mysterious girl. They didn't' get any information about Santana before she moved in with them.
''San Franciso,'' sounded the very explicit answer.
Well, at least it clarified her relaxed attitude. And her harsh choice of words. If they'd have a jar in which they would put money every time someone cursed, Santana would've already –in the little time she spent in their apartment- raised enough money to provide ten families in Africa with necessaries for the next few weeks.
''What are you here for?''
Santana sighed and pulled away her glance from the TV. ''Are you cross-examining me or something? I'm here for business.''
''Business,'' Brittany spoke slowly, letting the words come down on her. What kind of business would a young woman like Santana possibly be interested in? She couldn't come up with anything except of shoes. Or maybe fashion seen Santana's excellent choice in clothes, when she wasn't wearing Brittany's sweaters of course.
''Uh-uh, that's right.'' Santana sniffed and pulled a grossed out facial expression. ''Oh my god, did nose burn her hair? 'Cause it'd be a pity if I missed that.''
As if on cue, Rachel emerged from the kitchen, desperately clamping a casserole between oven gloves, and followed by pitch-black smoke. She tossed the casserole on a coaster on the coffee table and wiped off the sweat from her face.
''I decided to make a casserole from the tacos,'' Rachel panted as if she just ran the New York City Marathon without any workout.
''Sweet,'' Brittany already grabbed a plate from the table to dig in but Santana decided to throw a spanner in the works. A spanner in Rachel's works, properly speaking.
''Nah-ah,'' Santana waved her hands. ''I'm not gonna eat that vegan crap. I needs my meat.''
Rachel stared at Brittany in disbelief, her ears crimson. A scenario popped up in Brittany's head in which Rachel gently told Santana to shove that meat up her ass, but of course Rachel would never say something like that. Instead of that, Rachel just waved her hand and slumped down on the couch as if she had already given up on being friendly to their new roommate.
''The Thai down the street is great,'' Rachel simply answered.
Santana shot Rachel an 'are you fucking kidding me' look, but Rachel ignored her and leaned forward to use the buttons on their old TV to change the channel to her favorite again.
''Okay. Fine,'' Santana tossed off loosely.
She grabbed her jacket and disappeared before Brittany could point out she was still wearing the pink fluffy sweater; eventually she would notice herself. Santana actually stayed away all night and came back next morning, right after Rachel had left for rehearsal, not saying a word and immediately slip into her bed.
And that's how the first two weeks went. Every now and then Santana disappeared –most of the time after a bitchfight with Rachel or just when she was moody-, to come back in the middle of the night, or next morning. God knows what she was up to but Brittany didn't really want to know, unlike Rachel who was dying to find out (''Maybe she's a prostitute Britt!'').
But, besides the bitchfights and numerous disagreements, mostly about diner, TV channels and Rachel's outfits (''Please don't wear that nose, I've got to walk next to you''), the roommate-life was going just fine.
Until the night Santana had an announcement to make.
''Blondie, nose, I wanna throw a house warming to inaugurate this apartment. It'll just be like, five, or ten people.''
That was what they agreed on, five to ten people. But, based on the sound coming from the living room, there weren't ten people in their apartment. It was a hell lot more. Santana probably had every single one of San Francisco's inhabitants to visit her.
So Brittany had given up after the twentieth guest had arrived, and just went to bed since she had early classes next morning. She considered skipping classes to join the party but she liked her professor too much. Luckily for Santana, Rachel wasn't home tonight because she was on some kind of rehearsal weekend with the cast; otherwise she would've already had a treble fit because of the mess in her house.
But, after a few hours, the noise started getting less until the peace was restored again. Brittany was just about to attempt to sleep for the umpteenth time when she heard a muted voice coming from the bathroom.
''Fuck.''
Brittany slipped out of her bed and made her away through the havoc in their living room. A small beam of light emerged from the bathroom. Not to her surprise this time, she found Santana in the bathroom.
''Uh Santana, what are you doing?''
Santana turned around at a stretch. ''Fuck Blondie, you scared the shit out of me. Don't creep up on me.'''
''Sorry I guess.'' Brittany stared at the blanket and pillow in the bathtub. Was she about to sleep in their bathtub? ''Why are you sleeping in our bathtub?''
''I've got to disinfect my sheets before I can sleep in my bed again since I know for a fact some gross people had a planned orgy in it and somebody puked all over the couch, so this,'' Santana gestured to the bathtub, ''is the only option left.''
''You can sleep in Rachel's bed?'' Brittany suggested carefully but she already knew the answer to that question.
''Hell no.''
''My bed is also pretty huge. It fits three people,'' Brittany counted. ''Oh and Tubbs,'' she added.
Brittany grinned when she thought about the moment Santana first met Lord Tubbington. He pounced her from the top of Santana's closet, which led to a grumpy Santana for days but it was worth it. Ever since that happened Santana stayed at least seven feet away from him, calling him names in Spanish, which actually sounded pretty awesome.
''If even that fatass fits into it, it's pretty huge, yeah. But no thanks,'' Santana scowled. She lay down in the bathtub and disappeared under the blanket; in Santana language it meant 'now get the fuck out', so Brittany went back to her bed.
Just when she was about to fall asleep, somebody knocked on her door.
''Yeah?''
The door opened and immediately closed again. Footsteps came closer until the blanket next to Brittany shifted up and somebody slipped into the space next to her. It felt silent again but Brittany couldn't contain the victory she felt.
''Didn't like the bathtub that much?'' she grinned at the lump next to her.
''Shut up,'' Santana muttered in a muted voice, but Brittany could hear her smiling into the words.
Brittany turned around to face the wall and pulled the blanket a little higher. ''Goodnight Santana.''