AN: There you go. I give in to the quotation marks to indicate dialogue. Have fun.

Other work: Fate's Hands is going somewhere, but slowly. Bear with me. If you look on my Tumblr, there's a ficlet there, though. I couldn't resist Dianna's photos with pink hair and I was toying with the idea of a historical fanfiction, so you will find there a little something I might develop into a full multichapter fanfiction, because it is just so much fun to imagine this story. Just to make you more curious, I give you its the prompt/summary: College. Quinn has pink hair. Rachel is fascinated by her. Also, it's the 1970s.


07

Santana looks at Quinn, who looks at Rachel and squeezes her hand. Santana rolls her eyes and drinks her mojito in big gulps, half because it is half assed and half because Rachel is more overwhelming than a pack of hyenas and she just can't stop talking. And she's all Oh Santana how nice it is to have the three of us here getting to know each other, not that we are strangers, mind you, as Quinn and I have been dating for a while and you and I have had a marvelous however brief time together when you painted that mural on my wall, but I told Quinn last week we should hang, the three of us, now that our romantic relationship has recently come to your attention, so I can get to know you as a friend and go beyond our previous professional relationship.

Santana tries not to be hostile with Man Hands. But it's hard, and Santana wants to die. She drinks more of her mojito as Berry goes on about her two gay dads – really, like she cares – and how they taught her to live a life unafraid of other's judgment, so when came the time in Julliard when she desired to experiment with her sexuality, she felt comfortable to do it, and when Quinn crossed her way at that party she absolutely felt drawn to her friend. Santana makes her stop right there face, and Quinn luckily enough understands it and cuts of the story. Santana couldn't love her more. One thing she does not need to know is the intimate details of her friend's adventures in lesboland.

Quinn apologizes for not telling Santana, but she didn't know if it would last more than that one encounter and it was nobody's business and Santana stops listening, because she knows Quinn has slept with women before but refuses to be open with her sexuality. How tight can a girl remain, after all those years past Catholic school? Santana knows Quinn is, very much, a bisexual, but it always feels that admitting to be in any kind of relationship with someone of the same sex would be the start of World War III to her friend. And, really, Berry, of all three billion women in the world? She was short, obnoxious. And what was wrong with that nose of hers? Didn't she stop to breathe between sentences, ever? Santana prefers the distanced proximity of listening to her sing. Having Berry's full attention was a little too much and she hadn't had sex in days so she's already an irritated cat. Thankfully, Quinn distracts Shortie with a conversation Santana doesn't have to be a part of, so there are a few moments of peace of mind. But then of course Midgety turns to say something and Santana drinks some more, because it is going to be a long night. At least, Berry pays the bill.

She calls Brittany when she arrives home, and the woman is at some fancy restaurant with friends. Santana turns down the invitation to pass by, because she's trying to lower her budget and make her money last a few weeks more. Blonde is a good but expensive company to have, with her restaurants and clubs and parties and her high-earning circle of people, and Santana does not fit into the category. She's starting to worry how she'll keep up with their relationship. She finds out the city of NY was going to choose a young artist to paint some murals and create some art interventions, and well, she's young and she's an artist, so she signs up for it. She needs the money, and it wouldn't hurt to have her work out there.

Santana ends up deciding to leave the apartment and go to a friend's concert at an obscure pub, because this is a Friday night and she's too young to be dwelling on parties she can't afford. She puts on her leather jacket, miniskirt, and out she goes. She still gets a thrill of living in that town, of its beauty of concrete and lights, even after living there several years. There's always something to do, there's always somewhere to go and nights are never ending possibilities. Santana takes the long way to the pub, enjoying the breeze and the loneliness.

When she arrives the place is packed and loud, with dangerous blondes and their guitarist boyfriends and skinny brunettes and their vocalist girlfriends. Santana smirks her Santana smirk, because she loves the atmosphere and the loud thumping on her ears. Someone's going to pay her drinks and someone is going to try to get her in bed, and if she was lucky this someone would be a woman and the drinks would be plenty. She gets herself a beer and goes straight to the stage, very aware of the looks in her direction and feeling hot as hell.

"Santana!" Mohawk yells her name and eyes her from top to bottom. She likes his amount of bad attitude. "Long time! How's Quinn?" They toast and Santana answers Quinn is busy with Law School and they engage in conversation, because Santana doesn't know the band playing and he's fun. He says he's with Zizes now, who is a singer too, and when Zizes arrives Santana almost chokes on her beer, because the woman is large and tall and large and for someone who was dating Quinn this Zizes is surely a whole lotta woman.

They end up dragging her to the stage on the allegation she knows way too many rock songs to forget its lyrics. That's a truth, and she rocks out with Puck and his guitar, Zizes and her crazy vocals and it's good to be up there singing some fine music, closing her eyes to focus on the instruments and opening them to see a crowd jumping and having fun. And God, is she good with her deep, raspy voice.

Drinks show up in her hand when she's finished and she takes them but doesn't give much for anyone to engage in conversation with her. Taking someone to her place seems just wrong after so many times Blonde has slept there, naked as God made her. Flirting is nothing, though, and accepting some beers here and there isn't hurting anyone, is it? Puck is there too and they dance together, and they shout some lyrics together when Santana's friend goes to the stage and they rock out like crazy.

She arrives home sweaty, exhausted, and with four phone numbers she tosses in the trash with no regrets. Puck's invitation to sing with them more often linger on her mind as a temptation, because she knows it doesn't make nearly enough money and she should be focusing on painting, but damn it is fun. She has just taken a nice, long shower when Brittany calls. It's late, but she lets Dirty Dancer come over. She brings hamburgers, the blessed woman, and Santana's heart grows a little. She watches her set the table and get the glasses and something in the way she moves moves her like no other lover.

"I wanna try a little something," Indecently Short Dress Blonde says, back turned to Santana, and when she turns she walks to Santana and she kisses Santana. There's the sigh and the instant melting against her body that Santana loves. Blonde parts her lips, and when Santana's tongue enters her mouth there's the pleasant surprise of a thick and utterly delicious layer of chocolate. Santana immediately comes to the conclusion that what is perfection if not Brittany and chocolate all at once? She moans and pulls Chocolate Sensation Blonde closer, renewing her effort to explore Brittany's mouth.

Santana's not tired anymore, but Blonde pulls away and giggles "Your hamburger will get cold," cleaning a smudge of chocolate on the corner of Santana's mouth with her thumb and licking it afterwards. "Tease." Santana answers, savoring the taste of chocolate in her mouth and trying not to rip Chocolate Factory Blonde's dress off right there right then. "Eeeeeat." Brittany says, pulling Santana by the hand and sitting by her side, hand running on Santana's hair. Santana eats, her grumbling stomach thanking her for that. Brittany's all smiles and funny stories, and Santana forgets how much she needs money just to keep up with her and she talks and laughs and spoons the blonde when they finally go to bed.

Santana wakes up and the sun creeping in her window announces a lazy day. Sleeping Beauty Blonde is naked beside her, leg over Santana's body. She smiles and wakes up the other woman by caressing her back, earning the soft mewls Blonde always makes when she's sleepy as she tangles herself in Santana even more and cuddles. Santana kisses the top of Brittany's nose and she crunches it in response, asking for five more minutes.

Another hour passes before they finally leave the bed, Sleeping Beauty in a green t-shirt and underwear and Santana in shorts and a top. Santana stays in the bedroom for a while even though she's starving, because she has to make her weekly call to her abuela. Talented Hands Blonde heads off to the kitchen. It's a surprise, and Blonde has been mysterious about it, so when Santana actually leaves her room, there's a delicious smell in the air and Brittany is cooking waffles, for the love of God. The woman is cooking waffles and she's beautiful from head to toe, with her disgruntled hair and distracted humming of a song.

Santana hugs her from behind and kisses her neck. "I love your sweet lady kisses", Blonde Cook says with a sigh. "It's surely a nice break from all that scissoring", Santana answers. A quiet moment passes like this, with the feeling of Brittany pressed against her and the smell of waffles – that Blonde bought all the ingredients and brought the waffle iron, that beautiful human being. Hey, she finally says, "I'm in love with you." It's out now, out in the world, and her heart beats faster in apprehension and anticipation. From the day before Brittany was officially a single lady, press statements issued and publicists properly oriented, so what was there to hold her back?

Brittany turns around and steps closer. She's smiling like she won a prize as her arms wrap themselves around Santana's neck loosely. "I'm in love with you," Santana gathers the courage to repeat, enjoying the sheer feeling of pronouncing the words looking in Blonde's eyes. "I'm in love with you too, San", Blonde says, and Santana asks herself who gave permission to that woman to go around creating cute little nicknames for her. She is far from cute: she's fierce and determined, she's a storm in the brewing, but Brittany is kissing her neck and what was she thinking anyway, what is there left to think when there's warm lips on her skin and God that is a sensitive spot and she's shivering and throwing her head for better access and Maria madre de Dios what is Aphrodite's leg doing between Santana's with not nearly enough pressure-