A story I previously posted on the Brittana LJ community, now to be picked up and continued here.

-octopunk

Quinn didn't know how long the girl had been standing there before she had appeared but she looked as if she would have been willing to wait as long as it took for something to happen. The blonde clasped her hands against her skirt and looked at her toes, now and then bouncing onto the balls of her feet or rolling her neck as she mouthed words to some song and wiggled to the imagined beat. She looked too benign to be the thing she had been dreading. Quinn enjoyed her space and as such had taken special measures to ensure that she wouldn't be forced to cohabitate with some immature party-girl, as such her single dorm was much appreciated and now it was being stolen from her by a girl too harmless to blame.

"Why're you waiting outside?" Quinn had found the girl there, surrounded by her luggage, after returning from psychology class, "Didn't they give you a key?"

"I lost it."

Quinn rolled her eyes and opened the door, turning on the light as she waited for her new roommate to follow her in.

"Don't make a habit of that, I can't come help you every time you need to get in. What's your name?"

"Brittany."

For someone so tall she noted that she was exceptionally graceful, wheeling her luggage in and around the dresser that intruded an inch or so into the doorway. Now and then even Quinn forgot about it and got tripped up but Brittany maneuvered like a ballerina.

"Quinn Fabray," Quinn offered her hand, wincing as Brittany dropped her duffle bag rather flatly onto the floor and returned the gesture, she had a soft handshake.

"You get this side of the room, that's your dresser, bathrooms down the hall."

Quinn set her backpack down on her bed and placed her hands on her hips, watching the girl unpack.

"Is that all you brought?"

"No, my sister's bringing the rest of it tomorrow."

"Your sister?"

"Yeah, she went here."

"Is that how you got in, legacy?"

Quinn hadn't meant for that to come out as insulting as it did, but she already had serious doubts that this girl had gotten in on her GPA.

"No, I'm in the dance program."

That explained the grace, and the legs. Quinn had been eyeing her legs, there was strength there, physical strength, pick you up and never drop you strength. Her calves were compact and muscled leading into toned thighs, which were mostly visible beneath her short skirt. Quinn put on a smirk; Brittany only looked at her confused, not realizing the degree to which she was being studied, "What kind of dance?"

"Uh," Brittany looked to her left, unnecessarily baffled by the question, "The moving kind mostly."

Brittany was saved from further explanation by a knock on the door, which she for some reason snapped to answer feeling rather uncomfortable with the sudden scrutiny of her figure. She thought she felt Quinn staring at her ass; it bothered her for about a second before she opened the door. The girl on the other side stood a few inches shorter than her with a large amount of unconfined shiny black hair. The angles of her face appeared round and yet found themselves whetted in the venom of dark suspicious eyes. Her skin was the color of caramel candy, Brittany licked her lips.

Santana's eyes widened for a second realizing that this blonde was not the one to which she was accustomed, the first hint was that she was tall, like 'five feet eight inches staring down at her with big blue eyes' tall. This made it impossible to shoot her half-jealous/half-questioning look over her shoulder and instead she had to lean around her to get a glimpse of Quinn who, sure enough, was wearing the most impure, shit eating, 'look what I got' smirk she could muster.

"H-hi."

Santana refocused on Quinn's new roommate as she put on her pretty little tight-lipped smile, "Hey, I'm Santana."

"Brittany."

"She's in the dance program," Quinn cheeped from behind her, Santana paid a bit more attention to the muscle definition as she dissected Quinn's self-promoting tone, she wanted to flip her the bird but Brittany was already looking between the pair of them trying to get the joke she was obviously missing.

"Nice, well, sorry for interrupting, I was just coming around to…de-stress."

"She's got a gig tonight."

Brittany, finally picking back up on the conversation, turned to Santana smiling. She felt the tiny rush of adrenaline flutter just below her ribs, be still her heart, this girl was adorable.

"You're a musician?"

Santana felt the snarky remark regarding the obviousness of that fact burning like bile in the back of her throat, she swallowed it and traded for a simple, "Yep," with only a bit of that frustrated sarcasm. Brittany felt Quinn's arm around her shoulders and looked down to see the girl smiling, "Oh, she's being modest. She's really good, you should come, it can be like a welcome to campus experience."

For a second they were all left smiling at one another in some weird ritual of confirmation before Quinn relinquished her somewhat possessive contact of Brittany and grabbed Santana's wrist. "Well, you can go ahead and change or whatever, I'll give you your privacy." The door shut on Brittany looking down at her outfit, contemplating why exactly it needed to be altered. The second the lock clicked Santana's face dropped and Quinn covered her mouth, trying to keep in giggles that she knew would earn her injury.

"How jealous are you right now?"

Santana gave a kind of smile-scowl, her eyes narrowed, it was an expression quite common to her face, "Shut up, aren't you meeting with your boyfriend in half-an-hour?"

Quinn bit her bottom lip and tugged on the top of Santana's jeans, she got close and worked her magic on dark brown eyes, one of her eyebrows quirked in a suggestive kind of way. Except Quinn Fabray was never suggestive, so it was more like an ironic joke. Like, you felt bad for thinking it was a sex thing, even if it was.

And Santana had realized it always was.

"You're the one who came here to 'de-stress'."

Quinn was like this slender blonde galactic force, if she got close enough to you there was nothing you could do against the gravitational pull, unless of course you're Santana Lopez. If you're Santana Lopez you get close enough to smell her strawberry shampoo, close enough to feel heat on your lips, you look her in the eyes and without a second thought you turn and leave, saying something insulting over your shoulder like, "You're boyfriend's waiting, slut."

Quinn furrowed her brow and gave a disbelieving kind of laugh as she watched Santana sashay her way down the hallway without a glance backwards.

Brittany, unknowing of what dress code she had broken in her previous outfit, had been anxious about choosing a second one but when she emerged in a pair of slim jeans and a striped tank top there was no dissent from Quinn. Then again she appeared too distracted to care.

Puck didn't really like coming to these things, they were infested with all of the art kids who just sat around drinking coffee and being pretentious. It made Finn and him stick out like two big sore jock thumbs, not to mention he wanted to knock every single one of them down a peg.

"Come on man, I don't wanna be here."

Finn was swaying beside him cluelessly to some kind of weird poetry session that was being put on by a bunch of losers, "Why? I mean, Quinn's not here yet and won't Santana be angry if we, you know, ditch?"

Santana's wrath was something to fear, but its not like she could really do anything, besides she understood that this wasn't his thing. They got each other. Quinn was a different kind of thing, sure, he'd pretty much stick around anywhere to get to spend time near her but watching her all over Finn? Not his idea of a fun night on the town.

"I'm not scared of Santana dude, come on."

If he pestered Finn enough and played the Bro card he was sure he could convince him to find a party or a frat house to hang around at and he was already wearing that beat-up puppy look that marked inner turmoil.

"Come on, this is lame."

"But Quinn…"

"What about Quinn?"

Speak of the pretty blonde devil and she shall appear, dragging along some hot clueless-looking girl. Puck rolled his eyes; there goes any chance of getting out of this. He felt his stomach drop into his hips as Quinn set her palms against Finn's hulking shoulders, the pair of them kissed hello and he and Brittany were left to make awkward eye contact. He was so distraught he didn't even remember to put on his sex smirk.

"Hey Puck," He was bathed in her attention for a mere moment before Brittany was pushed into him, "This is Brittany, my new roommate."

Puck knew a peace offering when he saw one. Quinn did this sometimes, requested his permission to watch him squirm and then threw some pretty girl at him. It was a cruel practice but he didn't always mind, he got sex and she got whatever sick kicks she was going for. It's not like the girls were complaining either, after all, he was a stud. This girl however seemed a bit off, instead of twirling her hair or laughing at everything he said she just kept looking at the stage like she was actually interested in what was going on. When the poetry session was done she even clapped and hooted a bit in a ditzy good-natured way. Quinn and Finn had gone found a couch near the front to snuggle on and Puck managed to ignore the mocking glances Quinn kept giving him long enough to be a gentleman and get Brittany a drink.

She took one sip and her face screwed up, "Fruity."

"Yeah, girls like that stuff right?"

"Not all the time." She took another sip and made the same face as if she'd expected the taste to change, she eyed Puck's glass, "It's Jack and Coke"

Brittany smiled as her eyebrows shot up, Puck laughed.

"Knock yourself out."

She took a swig of it and looked at him, "How did you get booze?"

"Don't question the way of the badass darlin'"

"Is that like…karate?"

"Sure, yeah whatever."

Quinn was looking at him over Finn's shoulder again and he couldn't concentrate on what was being said. Brittany took another drink of whiskey, "So are you and Quinn, like messing around behind Finn's back or what?" Brittany deadpanned regaining Puck's attention in its entirety.

"Where'd that come from?"

"I watched this thing on the discovery channel about birds who do this dance to mate or whatever, that's what you guys look like."

He couldn't tell if that was an insult or not, but just being so easy to read made him want to sulk, he leaned against their table, "Yeah I wish, she won't even give me the time of day."

Brittany intercepted one of the sex-glances Quinn was giving out, "I think it's like, ten o'clock."

Puck rolled his eyes, for being so insightful she sure was scatterbrained.

Someone onstage was introducing the next act and Brittany's ears perked up when she heard the words 'Santana Lopez.' Once again she was sent into an exciting hooting fit to such a point that Puck had to grab her by the shoulders and wrestled her back to her seat to calm her down and even then she fidgeted in place.

Santana brought an acoustic guitar on stage, fully dressed for the role of expressive musician. Brittany and Puck wore the same expression of awe and neither knew who said it as the thought was shared between them, "She's gorgeous." With the origin of the comment unknown both of them found it suitable to nod. Her stage presence was one of confidence; one of expectation for the upcoming show and neither her nor Puck could stand to comment, for fear of missing a word.

Santana's voice wasn't gentle; it wasn't something you could really compare to honey or something because it wasn't honey. It was sandpaper in the good way, it was like some weirdly deep cave and there weren't any lights and you wanted to go explore but you had to risk cutting your knees on rocks or tripping now and then and it felt real. It felt like something you could hold onto and carry with you and by the time her first song was done and her guitar got quiet Brittany returned to her whooping excitement and not even Puck could manage to pull her back to sanity. Santana rolled her eyes but couldn't force her grin back down her throat. The interaction repeated after each song and by the end of it, it wasn't just Brittany participating in the fanfare. Quinn had walked back to accompany her in supporting her best friend and even Puck clapped as enthusiastically as he could, assisted by a bit of alcohol. Having traded drinks with Brittany he'd downed the fruity cocktail as quickly as he could in an effort not to taste it. He felt it taking effect, rising like a vapor in his chest, he ballooned with it, smiling and putting his hands on Brittany's hips, she kind of looked like Quinn after all. Brittany didn't mind, she never minded she danced with him to Santana's last song, hardly feeling him. Only listening to that sandpaper touch, like being tied with silk, like falling into a dark place.

When it was done Quinn came over and gave her this little look of encouragement and she was confused for a second until she realized that the warmth she was feeling wasn't just the music but Puck's head buried in her hair.

"Oh."

"If you guys wanna go back to our dorm you can, Finn and I were gonna head to his apartment."

Puck returned to some semblance of his senses at the sound of Quinn's voice and he pulled himself away from the body he suddenly realized wasn't her. What he found was hardly pleasing, Finn and Quinn fused to each others sides like some Siamese sex twin, their intentions were obvious, or at least Finn's were. It was impossible to accuse Quinn with her light-eyed god-loving ways of any serious impurity. He wanted to punch Finn as hard as he could in the face but cemented his hands back on Brittany's waist instead, "Sounds good."

He pulled her back against him and steered her towards the door even as she looked over her shoulder to see Santana approaching where she'd been only moments before. She wanted to knee him in the groin just to go speak to her but was out the door before she could put her plan to action. By the time the door closed she couldn't argue much with Puck's tongue down her throat and all, he pressed her against the wall and had his hands all over her in about three seconds flat. When he pulled away to breath, or look at her breasts or something, she managed to say, "I'm not Quinn."

Puck stopped cold and let his hand slide off of her hip; he gave off a ton of heat, like some weird walking energy-ball. He looked at their shoes, "I know."

"So, we can just like, say we did? Then you can go and get drunk or whatever guys do when they're sad."

He pushed off the wall and turned his back, storming in the other direction, "Fuck this, I can't even manage a hook-up anymore. I must be really messed up."

Brittany looked after him, not fully comprehending and choosing instead to focus on the sudden rush of cold that filled the space where Puck had been. She had always hated the feeling of being suddenly left alone and thought for a second of calling him back, of taking him back to her new bed and sleeping with him because she didn't really like being alone and she knew he wouldn't turn him down. That wasn't right though was it, new school, new way of thinking, isn't that what everybody wants?

"Was he hurting you or something? Cause I can talk to him, he's kind of an ass."

Brittany spun around so fast her hair smacked her in her eyes. Santana stood there with her acoustic guitar case over her shoulder as if she'd just walked out of some classic rock song.

Santana quirked an eyebrow, she still hadn't figured this girl out.

"He's just drunk."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"What?"

"Did he hurt you?" She sounded a bit more impatient, how does someone get impatient about helping you?

"Oh, no, he just ditched me," Brittany shrugged then realized that being ditched didn't sound much better than being hurt, "But it's fine."

"Being ditched is fine?"

"Yeah, cause I wanted to stay and tell you how awesome you were anyway."

For the first time she could remember, whatever words Santana had been planning to say were lost in her open mouth as she looked at the girl smiling at her. She choked on some sort of mixed sound before exhaling the air she'd been planning on turning into speech and ending with a small sounding, "Thanks."

"Welcome, I usually can't dance to acoustic stuff."

"You were dancing?"

"Kinda, with Puck, but he can't really dance dance, he just kind of pushes into you and smells you and stuff. That's how most guys dance, except for like, the gay ones."

Santana laughed before she even knew why, "Thanks for the visual."

They were quiet for a second; Santana adjusted her guitar strap before starting again, "So are you two dating or something?"

"Er, we just met."

"So?"

"So, I don't think so."

"Good, he's a jerk. He cheated on me like a thousand times."

Brittany felt a twitch in her shoulder and her back straightened up, like she knew she had to begin paying close attention.

"You guys dated?"

Santana rolled her eyes, "For like two weeks but I'm pretty sure he was into Quinn then too."

"Oh." When Brittany looked at her she looked her straight in the eye, she figured it had something to do with her not being afraid yet, but it was kind of nice, the only other person who looked at her like that was Quinn and she wasn't nearly as friendly.

"Don't date him."

Had they been standing this close together the entire time? Had they been looking each other in the eye? The intensity of proximity suddenly intimidated her and Santana nearly wanted to look away.

Nearly.

She was still Santana Lopez after all, but Brittany was biting her bottom lip and Santana could feel a layer of heat right below her skin. This was a familiar scene and yet the impression was different, they'd forgotten their lines.

"Don't worry, I didn't want to."

Brittany touched her hand, sliding her fingertips slowly from the base of her pinky across her palm, inching down so their fingertips ghosted one another and Santana felt like she'd just done heroin, she could feel her pupils dilating. There wasn't much contact; their bodies hardly touched besides maybe the toes of their shoes set against one another on the concrete but Brittany might as well have had her hands down Santana's pants with the way her heart was beating. The little bit of contact she did get was magnified, Brittany's other hand going to her wrist, the ghostly redolence of whiskey on her teeth as hot breath ran over her chin and down her neck right before they kissed. Despite the separation there was no chastity, Brittany's mouth was open just enough to let the warmth that accompanied a cavity of life pour into Santana like warm syrup.

It was like laying in sunlight.

"Santana."

Brittany pulled away, mostly because Santana wasn't going to. She turned to see Quinn looking at her with a scowl on her face and never had she wanted to punch that little blonde bitch out anymore than at that moment. Brittany's hand dropped and she turned too look at her roommate, staring for a second before whispering, "Go ahead."

Santana didn't need permission to do anything but she could feel her hands shaking like she'd overdosed, maybe she had, maybe being that close to Brittany, even when it wasn't nearly close enough, maybe it was dangerous. It sure felt dangerous.

She nodded her head and turned like a whip cracking, and as she fell in step with Quinn she couldn't help but mutter, "How jealous are you right now?"