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

AN: oh. Oh, oh, oh! I am so very sorry about how long this took! I just, I was dealing with stuff and then I was talking with people and then I was very, very distracted by, knowing me, something very shiny. The last time I posted I was about to go to Philly, no? Yes, my Uncle's. God love the man. When he drinks, lordy, his filter gets turned all the way down and, in between cutting the sleeves off my shirt (while I was wearing it) he made some rather off handed comments that put my head in a weird place and made me genuinely think. Which was a good thing, for me, I hope because it lead me to act out of character and actually talk to people I wouldn't normally talk to. Which brought two very different people into my life that I hope will be there for a while. But I am sorry this took so long. Molly told me not to post until I was satisfied with what I wrote, but I don't think she thought it would take quite this long.

Hope you enjoy

Midterm week happened in much the way Santana assumed it would. There were extra hours huddled away in a lonely, moderately well lit corner of the library, a slight increase in her already dizzyingly high caffeine intake and that first inkling of 'holy-fuck-I-haven't-learned-anything' that comes whenever any major test looms on the horizon. But other than that, once the study sheets had been put away, the papers turned in and the tests actually completed, it was much like any other week she experienced since the start of term in early September.

She still attended classes the same as before, still saw all the same people, still texted Brittany through nearly all of their shared free time. Still turned down Puck every time her called her mid-week to go out partying. Still rolled her eyes unimpressed whenever Quinn spoke to either of the girls she was somehow tricking into liking her.

In fact the only thing Santana thinks she's going to look back on as different about that week is when her phone lit up for the first time with a picture of bright blue eyes and smiling lips when Brittany called her Tuesday afternoon after the blonde's own intro to sociology midterm. (It was also the first time her phone had ever rang with Shakira's Hips Don't Lie and the subsequent first time she ever vowed to never let Mike play with it ever again.)

But it would stick out to her, that fluttering feeling in her chest and the almost painfully wide smile that stretched out across her cheeks, when she was asked later when it all started to hit her. Because that was the moment. It wasn't the visceral dancing from the weekend before, it wasn't the way her palms started to sweat or her heart hammering in her chest when they first said hello face-to-face, it wasn't her first sight of the blonde, or hearing pet names slip like wet soap across the airwaves, or even hearing her voice for the first time and the way she was instantly at ease. It was that moment then, for the first time looking down, knowing who it was going to be, and seeing the girl smiling up at her from the unfulfillingly small screen like she meant something. That was altogether new and unexpected because Santana knew all about carnal pleasures, knew about how voices could be stimulants and about highs brought on by physicality, but what she didn't know until right then was how thrilled she could be about something as simple as a phone call.

Of course she didn't recognize it as such and it didn't stand out to her when it happened. She just answered the phone with the usual "Hey Brit-Brit" and went about the call like it was any other week.

!

It was a short conversation, just a quick catch up over things that probably could have been discussed in a text message, but for whatever reason Brittany had wanted to hear Santana's voice. It was like there was something soothing about the dark girl's raspy tones and sharp tongue, something that calmed the storm in her head, and made it easier to think. She figured she could probably listened to her for hours without ever growing bored, like listening to the ocean or rain on a window or traffic.

When Santana had to leave for her own class, Brittany couldn't help but notice that the darker girl said "see you later" instead of "goodbye" so with the goofy grin that the sentiment brought about she repeated it back and hung up. She liked the idea of seeing Santana again.

She paused and looked about her room, eyes skimming over the obvious differences between her bright but messy parts and Tina's meticulously ordered and much more subdued portions. There was probably a list of things she could be doing in at the moment -studying for her next test, or prepping for rehearsal the next night, or packing to go home for Thanksgiving- but she felt calm for the first time in weeks and she wanted to hold onto that feeling for as long as possible.

Idly, she fiddled with the phone still in her hands, until she was skimming through the pictures she'd taken. The most recent ones were from Saturday night and were any combination of the four of them, although the number of ones that featured Santana far outnumbered any that didn't, and she gave a brief thought to posting them on the web but it was gone the further back in her digital memory cache she went. The next few were of her and Mike, with Tina popping up every once in a while, just after they'd moved into the dorms and were seeing the sights around NYC and almost all of them were of the two dancers pressed cheek-to-cheek and grinning like fools. She went further than that though and the more she dragged the tip of her finger across the touch screen the more she saw the familiar faces of all three of her sisters. Aubrey and her crystal blue eyes framed in thin black glasses, Kate's 'I know something you don't' smirk, and Joey's stretched out frame that towered over all three of her older sisters.

Intermittent with the four other blondes, and only standing out because her eyes reflected darker light, was Quinn. She smiled softly and continued to move through the pictures at more sedate rate until it seemed that every photo she looked at featured her girlfriend prominently and then stopped on a particular shot.

There had always been something so absolutely fascinating about Quinn Fabray, something so utterly perfect that Brittany had always felt a little out of breath around her. It was there in the twist of her lips and the steel in her eyes, something in the way she carried herself with such confidence and held herself to too-high standards even while she held the world at arm's length. But Brittany had gotten in early, had been there since skinned knees and baby teeth, and she'd gotten close enough to touch, close enough to see. And then when things changed and that avenue was closed to her she had moments like the one she captured on her phone months ago. Her finger and thumb twitched on the screen, zooming in slightly on the at-peace features of a sleeping Quinn.

The muscles in her chest tightened uncomfortably as the calm she was feeling is slowly replaced by the tiny niggling at the back of her head. It was a sort of distress that began when she woke up Sunday morning and crept slowly whenever she was left alone with her thoughts, like something was off in her own body. She felt it echo a bit when she closed the picture file on her phone and opened a new text, tapping out a message gingerly. Curious and a little put off, Brittany frowned at the words before hitting send.

She should be better at reading her own emotions (they were hers after all) but this was just a little out of her league. Because Quinn had been part of her for so long that the other blonde was practically part of her identity, but what did it mean that her girlfriend was featured so far back in the memory of her phone and all her recent ingoing and outgoing texts were under the name San?

!

Mike tugged at the right side of his oversized headphones and glanced up from his notebook. Tina was pacing back in forth in front of him, arms crossed and her bottom lip caught thoughtfully between her thumb and forefinger. He kind of didn't want to address it, whatever it was that had her so in her own head. He wanted to stay out of it and pretend that she actually had come over to get some last minute studying in before their calc test. But he knew if he wanted to continue his streak as most awesomest boyfriend he had to ignore that survival instinct and stick his hand into the viper pit.

"Something on your mind, T?"

She continued to pace and his lips pressed into a frown. Now there were two ways this could be played. He could act like he hadn't said anything and continue on in blissful ignorance, or…

With a sigh he pulled the headphones off completely, letting the wide plastic strip rest against the back of his neck, and sat up. "T?" he asked a little louder, leaning into her line of sight and catching her gaze with his own curious one. "What are you thinking about, babe?"

"Lesbians," she replied absently, flushing when she realized what she'd said by the way his dark eyebrows tilted in response. Embarrassed by her own candidness, which she was willing to blame on sharing a living space with Brittany, she bit her knuckle to stop herself from making it worse by trying to cover it up.

But he just grinned at her, and the mad twitching of the corners of his lips told her exactly how hard he was working to keep from bursting out in laughter. After a beat he sat up completely and settled his feet on the floor. "Don't be embarrassed, T," he shrugged and swung his hand out to hold hers and confessed, "sometimes I think about lesbians too."

She threw him a dark look, but he was smiling in a manner that she could hardly be mad at so she settled for rolling her eyes at him and sitting down on the bed next at his side, nudging him sharply with her shoulder on the way. "Sorry," he pressed back playfully and when she finally smiled up at him he readdressed the question. "Now, is there a specific set of lesbians you have in mind or just lady lovin' ladies in general?"

Tina kind of wanted to laugh at the question, but she repressed the urge. There was level of formality she knew she had to use because the particular set of lesbians she was pondering involved Brittany. Because while Brittany was her friend and roommate on top of being the girl who hooked her up with Mike she was -first and foremost- Mike's best friend. And he was terribly protective of her. She tried to think of a delicate way to address her concerns, but gentle words eluded her then as they had for the past two days, and she dropped her shoulders and bit the bullet, "Brittany and Santana."

From the corner of her eye, Mike looked contemplative. "Definitely an interesting combination," he nodded, bringing a hand up to his face to stroke a nonexistent beard. "An interesting blend of light and dark, good contrast, and the hotness factor is off the charts. I wonder who would to-oomph!"

The gothic girl flexed her stinging fingers and knew that her backhand to his stomach probably hurt her more than him, but he made a nice show of pretending otherwise that she was grateful for. "Not what I meant," she stated lowly. And it wasn't. Well, not entirely any way.

"Okay, okay," he grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together, "what did you mean then?"

"What do you think's going on with them?" She brought her leg up on the bed and twisted to face him, "I mean, Britt says they're just friends and I know she has a girlfriend, but I was def feelin' some intense vibes at the club and-"

"No," he interjected quietly but firmly. He tugged at her hand, cupping it between both of his and brought it to his chest. "I really like you, and I'll be your friend and your boyfriend, but I'm not doing that, Tina."

She blinked at him, "Not doing what?"

"Gossiping," Mike shuddered his shoulders and gave an exaggerated wince, "Meddling."

"It's not meddling."

"Except that it is," he dropped her hand to the bed top and glanced longingly at the forgotten notebook on her other side. "B's my best friend," he told her like it was something she should already know. It was something she already knew. "And," he emphasized with a light squeeze of his hands, "if she says they're just friends, then I'm leaving it at that."

"Mike, come on, you saw them dancing together the same as I did. They were lost in each other, like nothing else existed. It was beautiful."

His lips quirked up at the corners almost involuntarily, "You're such a romantic."

"Am not," she grabbed his abandoned notebook with one hand and swung it at him. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

He caught the swinging object and used it to pull her into him, stealing a quick kiss. "Do you want to know what I think is obvious?" She lifted a dark eyebrow in the affirmative. "Brittany moves. Like all the time. She doesn't stop. Have you noticed that?" Tina nodded, knowing the truth of it because it was one of the first things she'd noticed about the blonde after they'd moved in. "But when she was with Santana, when she talks to her, or even about her, she calms down. She breaths differently. And Santana? You can tell by the lines on her face that she isn't used to smiling, but she could stop Saturday night. Did you see that too?"

The gothic girl could only nod, a little hypnotized by the low murmuring property of her boyfriend's tone.

"They're friends. And they might be really good for each other. But if you interfere and ask questions they aren't ready to answer then you could make it super awkward for them. Let them be friends, okay?" He waited until she nodded before leaning back in for another quick kiss. "Great. Can we please study now?"

Tina glanced around at the position they were in and pressed her lips at him, the look all the more intense by the dark quality of her lipstick, "Seriously?"

"Unless you can think of something else to occupy us for the next hour."

She grinned. There were, in fact, several things she could think of.

!

Quinn rubbed at her temples with the pads of her middle fingers and closed her eyes. She took one deep, cleansing breath and, with a forced clearing of her mind, opened her eyes again and flipped her test booklet open to the first page. Movement to her right drew her attention away from double checking her answers as Rachel closed her own booklet with a flourish and a quick grin in the blonde's direction.

The tiny brunette reached for her bag leaning neatly against the leg of the lab bench they were sharing and Quinn found herself distracted for an entirely different reason as the thick pleats of her plaid skirt lifted along the back of barely tanned thighs. She swallowed heavily and forced herself to blink, if only to distract herself long enough to bring her attention back to the answer sheet in front of her.

She looked down just as the other girl shimmied her way out from the corner she was seated in and for a moment she thought she was in the clear until she felt the feather light touch of fingers gliding along her back wear it met the top of her chair. She shuddered involuntarily and like it was drawn by a magnet, up went her gaze. But the brunette appeared more practiced at keeping her eyes where they were supposed to be, and would appear that much more in control if it weren't for the fact she couldn't seem to stop the smile that stretched across her face.

Rachel exited the room without glancing back however and the former cheerleader gave a small sigh of relief, hoping that out of sight really did mean out of mind. Except that her back was beginning to tingle in a straight line where the Theatre major touched her, and she had the stray wonder if it would burn more without the barrier of cloth and by the time she looked back down at her work the words were swimming like the thoughts in her head and she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

She closed the book with a half hearted snap, gathered her things and walked to the front of the room. The smile she flashed at the TA moderating the test was one from her Cheerios arsenal and had the grad student flushing brightly. He attempted a wink in return as he took the testing material from her and she was well on her way out the door to roll her eyes and fish through her purse for her phone. She found it, nestled at the bottom and blinking with a new message. From Brittany.

She came to a complete stop in the middle of the hallway and tabbed the message open with a concerned frown, she couldn't recall the last time the taller blonde had texted her. She usually just called, choosing to leave voicemails whenever she knew Quinn was busy.

hope ur week gon well ilu

Her frown deepened and she felt the strain above the bridge of her nose as her eyebrows pulled together, but before she could tap the call back icon she felt an arm slip through her own and Rachel was right there, propelling her into moving forward. She blinked and drew back, startled. "You waited for me."

"Of course I did," she all but scoffs, almost offended that any action otherwise would be entertained as a possibility. "I thought it only proper that I offer to take you to dinner, to make up for the fact that I left you high and dry, as it were, Saturday night."

"Only proper?" Quinn repeated back, voice gravelly with her desire to repress laughter at Rachel's roundabout way of asking her out. Bright eyes looked at her through impossibly long lashes and her breath caught unintentionally. "Well, if it's only proper."

She pressed the red end call button on the opposite side of the screen to close the open message and dropped the phone back into her bag. She could call Brittany back later.

!

The phone in her hand buzzed unexpected, still on vibrate from class earlier, and without opening her eyes she answered and brought it to her ear, " 'lo?"

There was shuffling on the other end, and indistinct voices in the distance and then, "Hey Britt."

"Hey," she relaxed further into the bed, "how was your test?"

"I rocked it, of course," the girl on the other end laughed, "but you won't believe what happened. This guy comes running in, like, half an hour after the start and, hey, wait... You're done for the day, right?"

"Um, yeah?" she answered, but the confusion in her voice made it sound like she was asking more than answering.

"I could totally do with getting off campus for a couple of hours. And I don't know, do you, uh, do you want to meet for dinner or something? I mean, you mentioned the other day that you were craving pizza and I know this place a couple blocks from your campus that has the best Hawaiian I've ever-"

"I can't believe you actually put pineapple on your pizza," the blonde interjected, laughing to herself at the mad rambling that poured from the other girl.

"Hey now," Santana defended deftly, "Don't knock it 'til you try it."

Brittany reached up and covered her face with the flat of her hand, trying to contain the smile that felt etched there permanently. Hadn't she just thought about wanting to she the Latina again? "You know? That sounds kinda perfect. But I'm not eating pineapples as a topping."

"Sure, Britt-Britt, whatever you say."

Thoughts?

You guys! So much genuine affection for all of you.