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. Brittana Faberry Quitt

Rated: T for some language

Ha, really wasn't expecting that kind of response but damn, I love it. I hope this lives up to the expectations everyone has for it. This would have been out sooner but life kind of got in the way and even though I could have posted it yesterday, but roommate offered to buy me shots and, well, I like shots. Yummy, yummy pop rocks shots. Unless you're underage and then: no, drinking is not good for you! A public service announcement from yours truly.

Hey I forgot the disclaimer last time! Which might have confused a couple of people, like 'wait, does she own the rights to Glee?' But, alas, I do not. Sadface, I know, but what can you do?

Hope you enjoy.

It was a Wednesday night, little more than a week after Santana's discovery of her roommate's adulterous double life, when Santana found herself in one of those precarious situations that marks a tipping point in someone's life. She hadn't realized it at the time of course, no one ever does, but it was the point she would look back on months later and realize that she had indeed made a choice.

In that time things hadn't warmed up between the two girls, in fact Santana was willing to call their interactions both incredibly infrequent and downright frosty. If she cared to (and she didn't) she could probably recall all of the seventeen words that had passed between the two of them since that night.

It didn't bother her as much as her mother seemed to think it should, however, as she was used to being mostly on her own. As the only child of medical professionals, Santana had been raised with a healthy sense of independence to where she never really needed the connection of people her own age. Legitimate friends were a commodity that wasn't easily available to her growing up on the Upper East Side and although her parents doted on her like a princess, they weren't exactly steadily available. In addition, the private schools she attended for more than a decade and as smokin' hot as she was only served to reinforce the knowledge that girls were back-stabbing bitches and boys were only after one thing. Armed with that knowledge and her own penchant for manipulation, Santana made her way through her first eighteen years with hanger-ons and minions but no true friends to speak of.

People were only ever going to let you down and there was no one in the world you can trust with all your secrets but yourself. So her and Quinn Fabray not being BFFs? Yeah, not something she was going to lose sleep over.

But that night, while Santana was flipping through her assignment for English and dying for Friday when she could stop with the coursework for a bit, the blonde changed the game.

Her phone was practically glued to the side of her face once more and she was working on placating the girl, Drive Me Crazy girl not Don't Rain on My Parade girl, and it didn't sound like it was working all that well. "No, baby, it's not that I don't want to be there… Please don't put words in my mouth, B, I just already have plans." She sighed heavily at whatever was being said and pinched at the bridge of her nose. Santana leveled a glare at the back of her head, willing her to take the conversation out of the study room and to some place more appropriate, like anywhere that she wasn't, but apparently her telepathy was a little off. Quinn swiveled her chair around, seemingly unable to look at work she wasn't getting done and the Latina quickly averted he dark look. No need to poke a fuckin' dragon when it was already spitting fire

"Because," the blonde hesitated and looked around, grasping at straws for an excuse, "it would be rude to cancel plans on such short notice." Santana snorted at the semi-desperate tone which had the unfortunate effect of drawing the other girl's attention to her. Quinn's golden-green eyes narrowed in thought and then lit up. "My roommate," she cut into whatever was being said to her, "I'm hanging out with my roommate."

Santana glanced up from Beowulf with an incredulous look. She figured that because she'd just been brought into the conversation she now had the right to comment so with a raised an eyebrow she asked, "Excuse me?"

The blonde leveled a glare in her direction while wacing her off with a single motion. "I'm just taking your advice, B, and getting to know her. I think you're right, we could be good friends. Yeah." The smile that had been turning rather self-satisfied, stopped suddenly and Santana rolled her eyes, grumbling as she found her place once more.

"What? No, she's, uh, she's studying right now, B, and I don't think she would… B, I'm not putting her on the phone. Why would you even want-" She looked up once more to find the darker girl watching her half-interestedly, and clenched her jaw. She closed her eyes and looked like she was mentally counting backwards from ten before raising a hand to rub her forehead with the base of her palm. "Hold on, B."

She lowered the phone and covered the mouthpiece with her other hand, regarded Santana with a frown.

"Look," the blonde's nostrils flared, "Could you talk to my girlfriend and tell her we're hanging out on Saturday?"

Finally cottoning on to what was going on, the Latina controlled her smirk and looked back down at her book feigning apathy. "I don't know," she turned the page even though she wasn't done with it, "My time is precious. I don't think I'm free this weekend."

"Trust me, we won't be hanging out." From the corner of her eye Santana caught the sour expression on the blonde's face. "Just tell her we are."

"Seems a little sketchy." Keeping her head down, the Latina glanced up through her eyelashes, "What's in it for me?"

She wondered how someone could keep smiling with their jaw locked that tight but Quinn pulled it off like a champ. "I'll owe you one," she hissed, voice dripping distain, which was interesting because Santana was pretty sure with that tone her initial offer should have been 'I won't murder you in your sleep.'

She looked back at her book but she had turned so many pages without looking that she couldn't figure out where she had actually left off. She closed the novel without marking her spot and sighed, curling her fingers to indicate Quinn should pass her the phone. To the blonde's credit, she was able to marshal her features into what Santana thought was a good facsimile of a grateful look, if only it weren't for the ice in her eyes.

She was tempted to make the other girl say 'please' before she actually took the phone, but stopped herself when she thought about how often she was willing to bait death in such a short period of time. The device was pressed into her hand with the dry instruction to "Keep it short."

The Latina rolled her eyes heavenward as she took the phone, beneath a backlit photo of what looked like a ballerina in the arabesque position was a timer stating the blonde had spent the last twenty four minutes trying to convince one of her girlfriends that she wasn't a horrible person. And Santana was now going to aid in that charade.

Eh, whatever maintained the peace, right?

"Speak."

There was a pause like the person on the other end of the airwaves wasn't used to such a direct manner of greeting then, just as she was taking a breath to change tactics, a twitter of laughter reached her ear. Santana grinned.

"Oh wow," the voice spoke in soft tones that contained the thinnest remnants of delight, "I didn't know someone could just sound like a straight up bitch."

Now, normally, this is about the time that the Latina would go off because that right there was straight disrespect, except that the girl sounded so damn impressed that she had to laugh at the audacity of the statement. "Speak for yourself, sweetheart," faux-sweet sarcasm clung to the words like a coating as she glanced away from Quinn's questioning look.

The girl giggled again, "You're the roommate, I hope?"

"Depending on who asks I guess. But I usually just go by Santana."

"Santana," she repeated slowly, like she was just tasting the syllables on her tongue for the first time and the dark girl felt a curiously hot sensation on the back of her neck at the sound of it.

"I just said that, didn't I?" From the corner of her eye she caught the way Quinn was watching her with hawk-like intensity and resisted the urge to turn away.

"Yeah," she could practically hear the shrug from across the line, "but Q's only ever called you 'the roommate' so I wanted to make sure. Santana's a super hot name though."

"I," Santana blinked at the almost blasé delivery of the compliment, "Thank you?"

"Welcome!" the girl chirped before her voice grew serious. "So you're the reason I won't see my girlfriend this weekend?"

"Yeah, sorry about that," she swallowed heavily, a cold shudder ripping through her upper body at the lie she was telling. She narrowed her eyes at herself, curious because she'd never had that reaction to lying before. Ever. And she did it all the time.

"S'ok," the feminine tones ripped her back to the matter at hand, "Is Quinn being nice to you?"

"Uh," she looked up at the blonde in question but the girl's attention had been drawn away from her and was now on an open instant messaging conversation on her computer. "Sure, she's been a real peach."

A snort of amusement reached her ears. "Well, that's a lie."

"What?" she frowned as she crossed her arm under the one holding the phone to rest at a more comfortable position.

"Oh, honey," the endearment dropped from her tongue like silk and felt just as good, "I've known Q since we were kids, nice isn't something she does very well or, like, at all if she can help it."

"So if you already knew the answer, why ask me?" Eyes on the back of her roommate's head, Santana tried to picture the blonde as a little girl with crossed chubby arms and a prominent scowl across childish features. It was surprisingly easy. And if the girl she was talking to now knew her for that long it meant she was probably the original girlfriend.

"To see what you would say."

"Like a test?" There was a pause and Santana could see some faceless, non-descript girl shrugging in her mind's eye. She was going to have to ask Quinn for a photo or something to fill in the details. Or a name at the very least. "Did I pass?"

"Why don't you tell me about yourself, Santana the Roommate, and I'll let you know."

Beowulf lay abandoned on the floor as she settled back further into the small common room couch. She made sure to keep Quinn in her peripheral vision but once the blonde slipped head phones over her ears she gave up even that pretense as she tried to think of what to say to the girl on the other end of the line.

!

It was later, after someone else on the other girl's end pointed out the time, that Santana was able to take stock of her situation. Quinn's girlfriend - seriously, she was going to have to ask what the hell her name was- wished her sweet dreams and asked that she extend the farewell to Quinn and hung-up with a cheerful "Night!"

Reclining lengthwise on the common room couch with one arm tucked beneath her head, she looked down at the screen as it lit back up to reveal the timer just tipping passed two hours, but for the life of her she couldn't imagine what she just talked about for so long.

"Have a nice conversation with my girlfriend?" Her voice was just as sharp as Santana was used to hearing when it was directed at her, but there was a softening in her eyes as she took back her phone that was probably brought on by the dazed look on the Latina's face.

"I, yeah," she rubbed her hand across her forehead and sat up to find a clock to confirm the time. "She just kind of keeps you going, you know?"

"That's Brittany for you," Quinn flicked her thumb across the screen of her phone and stared down at it, but whatever she was looking at she kept to herself. Santana nodded slightly and grinned. Brittany, yeah that totally fit. "Give her half a day and she'll have you spilling your whole life story."

The fond smile on Quinn's face flickered with guilt as she touched the phone once more and set it face down on the desk. Next to it, the laptop with a still open message window on the screen was blinking to indicate a new response.

Still reeling from the conversation with the girlfriend- Brittany, she mentally reminded herself- Santana felt the need to say something to return the room to it's normal icy equilibrium, of only because she knew her own footing there. Twisting to retrieve her long-forgotten coursework she pointedly avoided looking at the blonde in the room, "What about your other girlfriend? What's she like?"

Quinn dropped her jaw, bright denial on the tip of her tongue before the darker girl's words registered completely. She closed her mouth with a snap and blinked. Scenario after scenario ran through her mind but there wasn't enough information to figure out what angle her roommate was working. "It's not-"

"-Any of my damn business, I know." She waved a dismissive hand without pulling her attention away from the book in the other one. "You've used that one before. Look, I'm just fucking with you, if I actually cared I would have said something to your girl on the phone. But I didn't, so whatever."

There was more to it than that, Quinn knew there had to be. "But why not? Why would you spend an hour and a half talking to Brittany if you knew I was using it so that I could talk to another girl?"

"Fabray, it's ten on a Wednesday night and I've been reading this fucking book since Monday. I would have taken any excuse to waste an hour and a half. I was bored. That's fucking all." Despite the heat of her vernacular there was a cool nonchalance in everything else that made it feel like she was telling the truth. But the blonde's mind didn't stop processing, it never did, it was something that had always fascinated Brittany. Quinn had spent the better part of her life scheming and planning and assessing and she wasn't about to stop now.

"What is in it for you?" she asked finally, quietly reaching behind her to half shut the face of her computer without even looking at the blinking message that was waiting for her.

Santana sighed in an overly annoyed fashion and slammed the pages of her book shut with as much force as one can muster on a paperback copy. "Not being a lesbian," the Latina started and Quinn had to repress a rather unladylike snort, because she knew that tone of harsh recitation intimately. "I can't begin to imagine the stress of dating another chick because, let's face it, girls are bitches and that much estrogen in a relationship would make me strangle someone. But dating two of 'em? You're out of your mother loving mind. So, what I got out of it was self-preservation because the less insane you are, the less likely you are to murder me in my sleep because you can't convert me to you Sapphic harem."

She punctuated the end of her tirade by standing solidly and flipping her dark locks over one shoulder, as if to show Quinn exactly what she would never have. But the blonde was too busy calculating in her mind, eyes reflecting like ice to even appreciate the vision. Behind her the laptop ding-ding!-ed to indicate a new message and the blonde faltered, twisting back to it and shutting the electronic all the way.

Satisfied that she had all the information she was going to get for the evening, Quinn nodded once and murmured, "Thank you for not telling Britt."

"Whatever," Santana shifted, suddenly uncomfortable, "I was bored, s'all. Just, you know, remember to keep your hands to yourself and we won't have any problems."

"Don't worry," Quinn smiled to show her perfect pearly whites, "You're really not my type."

The Latina wanted to laugh, because fuck all she was hot and that made her everyone's type, but instead she just flipped off the other girl and made her way out of the common room, Beowulf tucked under one arm but otherwise forgotten once more. As she got ready for bed, she thought about Brittany's parting wishes to herself and the blonde, but when she poked her head out Quinn was already back on the computer, clicking away what she was sure was another apology. Used to her own good-natured moods lasting for rather short periods of time, she wasn't surprised when she closed the door instead and kept that piece of the night to herself.

your. kat no pressure, right? :P

Chocolataulait aha, don't worry I'll keep the lawyers out of it, plus I'm pretty much the last person who will judge your lesbian-ness. Don't worry though, I'm not much of a Faberry shipper, rather I'm not much of a Rachel fan, so it'll be only when necessary. Brittana is the main couple here. Thanks for giving it a shot though. :)

Caldecottlilrat like a boss! sorry, I just like that phrase. I'm the same way, no worries. Thanks for giving it a chance :)

MaxximumRide666. sorry I'll try and be better about it. Glad you liked it, and I'm just trying to switch things up a bit. Hopefully I can pull it off.

L done

breathe4her …. I'm sorry, I've just been reading your stuff for like three years and I just adore your writing. Thank you :D

Cassicio I had a legitimately smart-ass reply for you, but I thought I should be nice considering you were so kind as to review my work. I will say, however, that I agree, it is crazy ;)

musiqnilla18, mekux85, Jo, wkgreen, h-bomb, The King Cobra, steepe, Bill thank you! I hope you still like it!