In regards to the length of this story, I honestly don't know. I have scenes in mind that I want to write, we're a while off from them, and given how some of these are short chapters, I'm thinking at least 20. Don't hold me to it, though.

*0*0*

Goodnight From Me, Good Morning To You

*0*0*

The late nights were taking their toll. You really needed a better way to handle the insomnia, and while listening to Rosario at night was good way to pass the time, it didn't help you sleep. Maybe if you were making up for the hours lost elsewhere, it wouldn't matter, but you weren't. You were running on four or three hours of sleep a day, and it was slowly becoming obvious.

Or so you were told.

"You look like shit," Santana said, coming to stand next to you. You were looking through cds, trying to find one Adam was asking for, although he couldn't recall the name of it, or the band, just that it was blue and a cactus was on the front. So helpful.

"Thanks, way to make a girl feel special," you grumbled in reply, knocking her arm slightly as you moved onto the next rack of cds.

"You want to feel special? Cause I have some sure fire ways of making that happen," Santana teased, and you shot her a look, which was the worst mistake ever, because she was giving you a look of sin, eyebrow cocked, biting her bottom lip, before peeking her tongue out to wetten them.

"Fuck off," you barked, turning away abruptly, not wanting her to see the blush on your cheeks, or the way you couldn't help but lick your own lips.

Immediately, Santana was laughing, and then her hands were on your waist, gentle, coaxing you back into her body so that she was right behind you. Front pressed to back.

"If you ever change your mind…" she chuckled, and you could hardly function with her hands on you, pressed against you, let alone hear what she was saying. "Anyway, I've got my own music to find. Enjoy." Santana let go of you, moved away, and gave you a nod goodbye, that infamous smirk on lips, as she went.

You let out the breath you'd been holding, suddenly feeling lightheaded, and shook your head. She was a nightmare. She could play your body like a master pianist at the piano, and you were a complete idiot for falling under her charms. She probably did that to all the girls she liked to wind up. She probably had long list of girls she frequently flirted with that meant nothing to her.

And you were just another one on that long list. Fantastic.

Needing to put Santana out of your mind, you went back to the task at hand, and silently cursed Adam for this impossible task. You were either going to find the CD, and have him not want it anymore, or not find it, and have him be annoyed. So it really felt like a lose lose situation, and quite frankly, you'd had enough of them to last a lifetime, thank you very much.

But you kept looking, bin after bin, shelf after shelf, you kept going. It had to be there somewhere. It had to exist. You just hoped it wasn't going to be in the last rack available to search, or you'd probably cry, because this was taking hours, and whoever was putting the CDs away was crap at it. You'd found more than needed to be reorganised in one shelf than what had been correct.

And then, it was blue, there was a cactus, and it was like the holy grail of CDs.

"I found it," you said, holding it, trying not to look too pleased with yourself, when Adam came out the booth a few moments after your discovery. And rightly so, you shouldn't have been pleased, because Adam wasn't paying attention. He was too busy looking down at his phone, his thumbs frantically typing away.

"Great, take a note of it. I might need it at some point," he murmured, and you wondered if he had really heard what you said, because earlier he had been so set on finding it, desperate to have it, and now he didn't care.

The buzzing of his phone in his hand as he was typing caused him to stop, and then he grinned, nodding to himself.

"I need you to cover the booth, I've got to do something. I'll be back soon. Don't screw up!" Adam called, moving past you quickly, leaving you standing there like a deer in headlights, as he went straight for the door.

What was going on? Where was he going?

You hadn't even had a moment to process what had happened, where he went, that he had left you in charge, before panic smacked into you like a freight truck.

He had ditched you. He had just walked right out. What? One moment he was there, you had found the CD!, and then he was gone.

What the fuck were you going to do?

You assumed he'd left a song running, but you had no idea, and you'd have to check. But that meant going in the booth, and you'd never been in there. You'd looked in, occasionally passed Adam water when he needed it, but you didn't have a clue what went on! What if the music ran out? What if you hit the wrong button?

You knew the number one rule was never to have silence, you couldn't let it go blank, let there be nothing, or that would be a major screw up. So you needed to do something, but you didn't know what.

"Is anyone here?" you called, hearing the panic in your voice. Your voice carried around the room, and you were just waiting for someone, anyone to answer your plea.

God, you hoped someone was there.

Then, you heard their footsteps before you saw them, and let out a sigh of relief that you weren't alone. Maybe it was Adam coming back. Maybe you were saved.

Or maybe not.

"What's going on?" Santana asked, vinyls in hand, looking confused. Then she looked past you, to the empty booth and moved forward quickly.

"Where's Adam?" Santana growled, and gone was the easy bantering mood from earlier, but replaced with a stern frown as she pushed past you, heading into the booth. You followed, and shook your head, answering her question.

"I don't...he took off." Your brain had understood that much.

"And he left you in charge?" You nodded, tucking hair behind your ear as you did so. "Do you know how any of this works?" she waved her hand at the equipment before you, and you shrugged. She looked at you for a split second before shaking her head.

"Sit your ass down and I'll run you through how this works," she said, flicking dials and checking stuff on the screen, taking Adam's seat.

"Thanks for this," you replied, knowing that without her, you were, for lack of a better word, fucked.

"Whatever. He shouldn't have ditched you like that." You thought so, too. A few more clicks, a few more seconds, and then she was turning back to you. "You won't need to speak on air, unless he doesn't hurry up. But I think you can play two more songs before then. After that, you'll tell them who the bands were, what the song was, and move to adverts."

You really wanted Adam back.

"What if I mess up?" That was your biggest worry, and you could see Santana's gaze soften as she looked at you.

"Are you going to curse?" she asked, and you frowned, wondering what that had to do with anything.

"What? No." Of course you weren't.

"Then you're not going to mess up. Now, hit this button, and then push that," she explained, and you nodded, waiting for her to give you the signal. She did, and you did as you were told, and in the speakers she had crookedly placed on your head, you heard the change, the old song end, and then the new one begin.

"Okay?" she asked, and you nodded, now moving to take the headphone off your head for now. You didn't need them. That song was five minutes long. You had time.

"What next?" you asked, and Santana shot you a smile, before going into how everything worked, and what was required. Some of it was complicated, some of it was easy, but she was there, supporting you, and when you finally had to actually speak on air, she was right beside you, nodding in support.

"You did great. You didn't sound nervous or anything, so relax. You're good." All you had done was tell them who the band was, the song, and what was coming up. Santana had pressed the buttons for the jingles and the commercials, which were playing, and you were trying to calm your racing heart, and steady your breathing.

"It's quite a rush, isn't it?" she asked, and you nodded in return.

"I take it, it's not always like this."

"Nah, sadly not. But it's still fun." You could see why, minus the mini heart attack you were having.

Gradually, the stress of the situation eased away, and you kept going, with Santana encouraging you, telling you certain ways to help ensure you didn't get tongue tied over your words, and then Adam was back outside the booth.

"Wait here, just keep doing what you're doing," Santana said, getting up before you even had a chance.

You thought it would just be a simple switch. After all, you'd see how the changeovers worked after a DJs set. So this was new.

Watching, you observed Santana indicate Adam should follow him, and the two of them moved further away from the booth. Not that it mattered, because you weren't going to be able to hear them anyway. It was soundproof for a reason.

Their postures suggested it wasn't a friendly heart to heart they were having, and then Adam was waving his hand dismissively, which Santana looked ready to kill him for. And okay, now you wanted to know what the hell was going on.

However, it was time to change the song. So, getting back to the task at hand, you stopped peeking out the glass windows, and went back to it.

Once the new song began to play, Santana was coming back in the room, looking as if nothing had happened whatsoever. You wanted to ask, but then thought it probably was best not to. She'd explain.

Or not, as she took a seat next to you again, like Adam hadn't come back at all, and now you had to ask.

"Where's Adam? Is he not going to finish his set?"

"No. You are," Santana said, not looking at you as she spoke. "It's yours right now. He forfeited it the second he walked out the booth. You've got forty minutes, and while you have to stick to his set playlist, you're still in charge." Well, that was unexpected.

"I don't know what I'm-" you stuttered, feeling very insecure with your ability to do this successfully.

"I'll be with you the whole time. Just do as you please, and I'll help out where I can." You bit your bottom lip, and Santana rolled her eyes. "Q, half the gophers in this place would give their right leg to be in your place right now. Enjoy it. You're doing great." You wished you had her confidence in you. But...it was kinda fun so...

"Okay. Okay." Santana's grin was worth the fear, you figured.

"Now, swap seats, you're the host, sit in the damn chair." She pointed to the nicer chair of the two, and you hesitated, but then her hand was in yours, and she was moving you herself. There really was nothing special about the chair, but it was more the significance of it.

"Alright, now, get ready for the next song."

Smiling, you did what she had taught you, and together, the two of you worked through the rest of the set. You signed off, explaining Adam would be back tomorrow, and was relieved when you saw the next DJ outside the booth, just waiting to take over.

When it was over, and you were back in the music library, feeling your whole body relax, you broke out into a crazy grin. God, that was exhilarating. you needed to tell Rachel. She's be so proud.

Getting your phone, you fired off a text, and then looked up to see that Santana was watching you. She had a similar smile on her face, and this time, you were blaming the heat in your cheeks on the fact you just had done a lunchtime set on the college radio, despite being a complete rookie.

"Give me your phone," Santana suddenly said, and you frowned, but she was taking it out your hands, and you were left looking at her like she was nuts. "There. Now you have my number, and I've now got yours. If Adam pulls this crap again, or you need help, whatever, just call me and I'll walk you through it. Or just call me whenever. If you want. To talk or whatever," she said, handing your phone back.

"Thanks," you replied, unsure what had just happened, and blinking a few times to make sure you were seeing it right, because Santana's cheeks were slightly red, and there was no way.

"Anyway, great set. See ya." Her words were quick, and you barely caught them, before she was out the door.

Okay.

Shaking your head, you laughed to yourself, because this day was ridiculous, and yet, it was great. What a nice change.

Now, now you needed to go to class, because that was why you were at Yale in the first place. The radio station could wait. Only, you knew you'd be right back there tomorrow, because you couldn't get the grin off your face.

It was completely surreal.

*0*0*

Despite knowing that you really needed to try and sleep at night, especially when you were tired, because the insomnia usually never granted you such a luxury, you still found yourself listening to Rosario's set all the way through that night. You were too amped up from the day you'd had, which was surely understandable.

Plus, it was four hours. It wasn't going to kill you, and you could sleep after it. Your first class wasn't until 11. You had time, until the clock ran down, and it was just shy of six a.m. and it was going to be another goodbye to your favourite radio host.

"Alright, tonight, we're ending the set with one of my favourites," Rosario began. "Well, they're all my favourites, but this is Blondie, so it's different. Plus, this song totally works with what I'm thinking about right now. I mean, hello, I gave you my number for a reason; call me." With an exasperated sigh, the intro to the song began to play in the background, and then Rosario was back. "It's goodnight from me, good morning to you. Here's Blondie with Call Me. Enjoy."

Color me your color, baby

Color me your car

Color me your color, darling

I know who you are

Come up off your color chart

I know where you're comin' from

Call me (call me) on the line

Call me, call me any, anytime

Call me (call me) my love

You can call me any day or night

Call me

While the song was great, because it was, you were stuck on what Rosario had said. Sneaking a glance at your phone, you frowned, and then shook your head.

It couldn't...it couldn't be, right?

You were insane. Of course it wasn't. It wouldn't be. It couldn't be. Rosario Cruz was not Santana. No way. The voice...the voice kinda sounded the same, now that you thought about it. But Rosario...Rosario was your salvation, while Santana was a thorn in your side...until now. Until that damn smirk, that damn chuckle (the chuckle!), and...and you were a complete idiot.

Grabbing your phone, you knew there was only one way to find out.

Desperate much? - You texted, listening as the song continued to play on.

If it wasn't her, which it wasn't, although it probably was, you'd pretend you'd sent that text to the wrong person. You could cover it up. You could easily lie. You'd done that for years. But if it was her…And then your phone buzzed, startling you. Opening the message, you found yourself breaking out into a huge grin. Christ.

About time! And I fucking knew you listened to my set! Stalk much? Santana replied, and god, it was really her. How could you have...how?

Please, you're the one who begged me to call you on air, you replied, typing back quickly.

It worked, didn't it?

What did you want? There had to be a reason for her giving you her number, for her wanting you to call her, now you just needed to know what it was.

Figure if I want to make out with you at some point, I kinda need to start being nice. So yeah. This is me being nice. Enjoy it while it lasts.

That text shouldn't have affected you the way it did. You felt your whole body react. And god, the thought. Jesus. She was going to kill you.

Awfully presumptions of you.

Please, I'm dedicating songs to you, that should at least get me first base.

You'll need to up your game if you think that'll do it. One mediocre song, not enough. It felt like blasphemy saying that, because please, Blondie was an icon, but you knew it would get you the desired effect. And it did.

Mediocre?! It's Blondie! This was quickly followed up by another text. Just you wait, I'll show you what Blondie can do. Mediocre my ass. There was no point arguing with her, she was riled up, exactly what you wanted, so now, you were going to sit back and enjoy where this was going to take you.

Goodnight, Rosario.

So...that might have just been the weirdest thing ever. Santana was Rosario. The girl who had kept you above water was also the one who had pulled you under. What that meant...you had no idea, but you were going to be in for one hell of a ride, that you knew for sure.

Whether you survived it, that was another matter.

But for now, Blondie.

*0*0*