A/N: So, I actually managed to update in lessthan a month! This is the final chapter, and I hope you all enjoy it! Thanks for reading, and all of your wonderful reviews, they really have made writing this so enjoyable!
I also wanted to note that I've received a lot of requests about writing their college years set in this universe. I'm hesitant to do so because the college years would mean writing the Justin years (for those of you who have read my other story). I was considering doing a couple of one-shots, but I've also been toying with the idea of writing an AU set during WWII. I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts on these options.
Anyway, sorry for the long note, and I hope you enjoy!
"This is totally weird," Brittany says, taking Santana's cup out of her hand and sipping from it.
"You know, just because we're dating doesn't give you the authority to simply take my drinks whenever you see fit, Britt."
"You rhymed," Brittany says, smirking because she knows that she had the right to simply take drinks from Santana way before they officially started dating. They interlace their fingers together and continue to share one drink, watching their friends goofing off around Puck's backyard. "Don't you want to know why this is weird?" Brittany asks, finally. Santana smiles, raising her eyebrows in surprise.
"Oh yeah, I forgot!" She says, gently tightening her grasp around Brittany's fingers. "Why is this weird?"
"Because this is the last time we'll all do this." Santana turns so she can look Brittany in the eye. "This is the last time we'll all be together."
"Hey, that's not necessarily true," Santana says, bumping her shoulder into Brittany's. "And, yeah, obviously I'd be perfectly okay if I never had to see Puckerman again because he never gets his pool cleaning company out of Lima, or if I don't have to see Quinn after Freshman year because you know she's just going to meet some douchebag football player and get married, or if Berry moves to New York and I never have to hear that name again, but there's no way you won't see them again! Plus, aren't Kurt and Berry already planning that lame winter break reunion? You can go to that!" Brittany gives Santana a look that stops her talking immediately. "Yeah, I know, I'll probably go too."
"That's not what I meant, San. I meant, that we'll never be in the same place again, like, inside ourselves, you know?" Santana looks at Brittany patiently, but obviously expecting an explanation. "Like, for most of our lives, we all have been working toward the same thing, and now, all of a sudden, we'll all have completely different lives. Like, no matter how much you hate Rachel, you both shared a hatred for Geometry and a desire to leave here. You both worked on college applications and fought for solos. Next time you see her, she'll have a life in New York and we'll have our lives in LA and even though we'll see each other, our lives won't be with these people anymore."
"I think the glee club people will always kind of be with us, Britt. Even if Rachel and Finn are in New York married with nine children and we're living a super glamorous life in LA and Quinn's stuck back in Lima with Puck, we'll still always have each other, in some way."
"I hope so," Brittany says.
"I know so," Santana replies, gently kissing her.
"You know, five-seconds ago you two were just talking and I thought it would be fun to join you and talk about how much fun it's going to be when we're in LA in A WEEK, but, I swear, if I get within a 3 foot radius with you two, you start making out."
"That wasn't making out, Q. Maybe you haven't done it in so long that you've forgotten what it looks like?" Santana smirks at Quinn.
"Just so you know, there will be no making out in our dorm room." Quinn said.
"Q, we're going to be in college. Making out is, like, what they invented dorm rooms for."
"That and storing your alcohol," Brittany adds.
"Speaking of," Quinn says. "Who wants some shots?" Brittany and Santana make eye contact and nod simultaneously.
"I can't believe I agreed to live with them," Quinn says, a few hours later, nervously eyeing Brittany and Santana ferociously making out on a lawn chair. It's the gross, drunk kind of making out and Quinn is a little concerned that they might actually eat each other. She grimaces at her unconscious double entendre.
"Well, technically, you're only going to be living with Santana." Rachel tries to help, playing with the end of the straw in her wine cooler with her lips.
"They're a package deal, they've always been a package deal," Quinn sighs.
"To be honest, I was surprised to hear that you chose to room with Santana next year," Rachel says, "your friendship with her has always been," Rachel pauses to take of sip of her drink, "antagonistic…at best."
"It works for us, somehow." They sit in silence, not sure what else they have to say to one another. "I'm going to get in line at the keg, do you need anything?" Quinn asks Rachel. She shakes her head as Quinn rises to leave.
"Quinn," Rachel calls before she gets far away. Quinn turns to face her. "I know we've never been the best of friends, but, in case I don't see you before you leave next week, I just wanted to say, goodbye, and good luck, and have an amazing time in California."
"Thanks, Rachel. Good luck in New York." Quinn's not sure if she's supposed to go back and hug Rachel and Rachel doesn't move so she opts for a small wave of the hand.
"Maybe I'll see you at our reunion this winter?" Quinn nods.
"Maybe. Good luck, Rachel." She turns and walks toward the line, linking arms with Mercedes as they try to weave their way to the keg. Rachel watches them laugh and Mercedes pulls a framed photograph of some kind from her bag. Quinn stares at it for a moment and then pulls Mercedes into a tight hug. Rachel looks at her feet, feeling a little like a stalker, and wanders away to find Finn.
Quinn and Santana are lying on their stomachs in Santana's bed the next day, looking over the schedule for Orientation. Well, Quinn is looking at the schedule, Santana is on the phone with Brittany.
"Put her on speaker, bitch." Quinn says, not looking up from the calendar in her hands. Santana glares at her.
"Why would I do that?"
"Because, one, it's rude to talk on the phone when you have guests, and two, I want to talk to B too."
"You hardly qualify as a guest, Q," Santana says, but puts Brittany on speakerphone nonetheless. "B, you're on speaker now."
"Hi, Quinn!" Brittany's voice yells through the phone.
"You don't need to yell into the phone, Britt, I'm right here," Quinn says.
"Sorry!" Brittany says in a normal volume. "I wasn't sure if Santana was enforcing that rule where she didn't want you to get your preggo germs on her bed."
"That's fair, B. I think she's past that," Quinn says, glaring at Santana who just smirks.
"Do you think I need to bring anything other than dance clothes?" Brittany asks.
"Yeah, baby," Santana says, readjusting the pillow she has curled under her chest. Quinn raises her eyebrow at the term of endearment and Santana glares at her.
"Why?"
"For when we go on dates. Or when we go to Weho." Brittany squeals.
"Can we take Quinn to Weho with us?" Brittany asks.
"Definitely," Santana says. "She'll love it there."
"What the fuck is a Weho?" Quinn asks.
"It's a magical place," Brittany says, "where all the Los Angeles' unicorns live." Santana smirks and Quinn just looks confused. "Okay, honey, I'm going to keep packing."
"Okay, B. Have fun!"
"Bye Britt!" Quinn says into the phone
"Bye Q, have fun with San! And I'll see you tomorrow, San, love you!"
"I love you too, Britt. See you tomorrow, baby." Santana hangs up the phone and looks over at the schedule in Quinn's hands. Quinn, however, has her eyes focused on Santana.
"What?" Santana says finally, feeling Quinn's gaze on her.
"You've turned into such a cheeseball."
"Fuck you, Quinn. Let's get back to deciding which of these lame orientation events we're not going to."
"I love you Britt-Britt," Quinn says, batting her eyelashes at Santana. "You're so cute, baby! I love you too, baby." Santana takes her pillow out from under her and hits Quinn over the head with it.
"You better get used to it because you have to live with it starting next week."
"I know. It's gross." Santana rolls her eyes and they resume poring over the schedule.
"There's a GSA mixer next Friday." Santana says. "I think I might go."
"You want me to come with?" Quinn asks.
"If you want." Santana says, nonchalantly, but Quinn can tell from her eyes that Santana is anything other than nonchalant. Quinn just nods at her.
"Are you nervous?"
"No," Santana says. Quinn raises her eyebrows at her. "I mean, what do I have to be nervous about? You're going to be there, Britt's going to be there, this is going to be fun."
"I'm nervous that you and Britt are going to totally ditch me and you're going to spend every night at her apartment and I'll be all alone."
"Hey, Q, I would never do that to you. If anything, Britt is going to be spending a lot of time with us instead of at that crappy studio she's living in. At least we'll kind of have built in friends because we're in school."
"We're both pretty bitchy, Santana. We may not have any friends."
"That's true." Santana looks at Quinn like she's deep in thought. "Well, that's why B is part of the unholy trinity, right? We act like bitches to make sure everyone knows we're on top and to weed out the losers, and B attracts the friends with her sparkling personality." Quinn laughs.
"Is that why we keep her around? I thought it was because you love her, and she's perfect and her 'sparkling personality'," Quinn replies, resuming her mocking tone.
"I'm so going to fucking kill you before the end of the year," Santana says, laughing and grabbing the pillow she'd thrown at Quinn and resituating it underneath her chest.
"Likewise, bitch," Quinn says through a grin.
Their parents insist that they drive separately to the airport. Maria is crying and Santana is pretty sure her eyes are actually going to get stuck in the back of her head if she rolls them any harder because, really, she's the third child to fly the coop, so to speak, and, yeah, she's going to California and her brothers stayed in the Midwest, but most of her mom's family lives in LA anyway, and it's really past time she gets over this.
It looks like Caroline isn't faring much better by the time the families meet at the ticketing gate. She's clinging to Brittany's elbow as they stand in line with Brittany's bags and she chokes back a sob as the attendant asks for Brittany's driver's license.
"Can you believe she can drive?" Caroline asks the attendant. Brittany is looking from her mother to the attendant with a mix of embarrassment, fear, and shock at her mother's behavior. "She's just a baby, and we let her get a driver's license and now she's flying to California." She gently strokes Brittany's cheek.
"Well, ma'am, she won't be navigating the plane, if that's any reassurance," the woman says to Caroline who just starts sobbing more. "It's okay, honey." The woman says, looking at Brittany. "We get a lot of these this time of year." Brittany nods, but she looks a little nervous herself as she hands her bag over to be checked and clutches her backpack tightly on its straps. Santana sends her a reassuring smile from her position a few people back in line. She forbade her mother from coming with her. She's grown now, and she can pick up a damn airplane ticket on her own.
"You promise to call everyday," Maria says, squeezing Santana's face between her hands as they stand just before the line for security check. "No matter what. And check in with Aunt Rita once a week."
"Yes, Mami! Jesus! I'm not going to war, it's just college!"
"I love you, mija." Maria pulls her into another hug. "I can't believe you're so grown-up, so beautiful."
"Okay, Maria, let's let Santana breathe." Her father says, gently pulling Maria off Santana. Daniel is suddenly wrapped around her, in a hug like he was still seven almost seventeen. Santana is surprised at first, but then gladly returns it.
"I can't believe you're leaving me with them, Tana. They're crazy. They're going to drive me crazy."
"Curse of the baby," Santana laughs. "You had it so good up until now, but they're not going to have anything to focus on for the next two years, other than you."
"I hate you." He whispers.
"Oh, you love me," she says as he pulls away.
"Santana?" Caroline says, approaching the Lopez's, her arms wide. Santana hugs her, albeit a bit awkwardly. "Good luck, my dear. I know you'll do wonderfully!"
"Thank you," Santana says quietly. Caroline pulls away, beaming at Santana. Mitchell approaches her, his hand extended. Santana awkwardly shakes it.
"Oh, we might as well," Mitchell says, timidly wrapping Santana in a quick hug. "I know you'll do very well at USC, Santana. Britt tells me you're thinking about pre-law?" Santana nods. "Well, you can always give me an email if you need any help, even if it's getting a little rusty in this noggin.
"Thank you," Santana offers with a small smile.
"And do me a favor, will you? Keep an eye out for that one, okay?" He asks, nodding over to Brittany.
"Of course, Mr. Pierce." She looks over at Brittany, who is currently engulfed in a bone-crushing hug from Maria. "Okay, we have to go or we're going to miss our plane," Santana announces to the group. Her mother bursts out in sobs again and Santana gives her a quick hug and then one to her father and brother. Brittany says her last goodbyes to her sisters and her parents and they make their way down the winding line toward security check. They get shuffled into separate lines and when Santana finally gets through the X-Ray machine and the pat-down (she's, like, 90% sure that woman was a lesbian), Brittany is sitting down putting on her shoes. Santana puts her own on, struggling a bit with the complicated laces on her boots because, hello, she's not going to look like a bum when she touches down in LA to start her new life. She glances over her ticket to figure out which gate they have to head toward. When she looks up, Brittany is standing in front of her, her pinky extended from her left hand. Santana grins and tightly wraps their pinkies together.
"Here goes nothing, right?" Santana says as they make their way through the terminal, pinkies wound together.
"Here goes everything, Santana," Brittany replies with a grin.