Brittany awoke in a daze, vaguely registering the persistent beeping of her alarm, her head clouded in a haze of leftover alcohol and lingering flashes of memories. Last night came back to her in scattered fragments; the sour, acrid taste of her drink hitting the back of her throat; the way her breath hitched in her throat when she first saw Santana; the feeling of the brunette's oh-so-delicious lips upon hers. She found herself smiling as she thought of Santana as she reached over to retrieve her phone from her bedside table. Her smile grew wider as she read the words stamped across the brightly-lit screen: One new message: Santana.

She quickly swiped across the screen, typing in her password hurriedly, swallowing heavily as she waited for the message to appear.

-Hey you :) I just wanted to say that I had a really great time last night, and I hope I wasn't being too forward when I asked for your number.

Brittany grinned, her stomach fluttering involuntarily as she read and re-read Santana's words, taking a good few minutes to deliberate on how to respond. She eventually replied with:

-Hey! I had a great time too. And no, you weren't being forward at all. If you hadn't asked, then I know I would have. But I'm glad you did :)

She then placed her phone back on the nightstand, a satisfied smile lazily gracing her stunning features. A few minutes later, she mustered up a few grains of energy and rolled out of bed, swinging her legs onto the floor, wincing as her bare feet met the cold harshness of the floorboards. She was constantly wishing that she could carpet her small apartment, but being a college student meant she didn't really have money to be wasted on interior design fantasies, not when she had to pay for her own food and accommodation. Her parents were already paying for her tuition fees, so she had insisted that she would get a job and pay for other expenses herself, which was why she was begrudgingly leaving her bed at 9am on a Saturday, to get ready for her shift at the book store that was located in the centre of her college campus. Many people wondered why she didn't just stay in her college dorms like most of the other students, but she refused to share a kitchen and bathroom with people who would most likely provoke her and prompt her to, as she kindly stated to her mother, kick their stupid, immature butts.

See, the thing about Brittany was, she was never really like the other kids her own age. When they were all reading books about hungry caterpillars and things that go bump in the night, she was delving into the magical, enchanting world of Harry Potter. Then, as she entered her teenage years, her peers would be down at the local cinema, excited to see the latest Final Destination movie, whereas Brittany would be huddled in her room, watching movies like The Perks of Being a Wallflower and The Breakfast Club. Her mother described her as an 'old soul', as she always had an interest in things deemed too 'mature' for people her age. And now, while kids she remembered from high school, like Finn Hudson, were frantically trying to find their niche in the world and where they fit in, she was in her second year of studying journalism at Northwestern University in Illinois.

She stretched, letting out a soft sigh as her bones clicked in a wonderfully gratifying way, before making her way over to her bathroom, turning on the shower and waiting for the water to warm up. She hopped in a few minutes later, losing herself in the feeling of the hot water caressing her body, feeling the silky droplets run tantalisingly through her hair, dripping down until they landed on the porcelain floor with a soft plink. She closed her eyes, lathering up her hair, savouring the soothing sensation, and soon found her mind wandering, thoughts of Santana seeping in through her subconscious. She pictured the brunette, smiling happily, as she danced by her, occasionally grasping her wrist or threading their fingers together. She thought back on how the night had ended, with her driving Santana home and escorting her to her front door, making sure she was able to make it to the elevator, before planting a light kiss on Santana's cheek. Brittany remembered Santana watching her car until it turned the corner, the headlights winking momentarily before disappearing into the darkness; Brittany saying goodbye. She relished the memory of her lips brushing against Santana's soft cheek, then on her own lips, and found herself blushing at the thought.

She shook her head, attempting to bring herself out of her impromptu reverie, feeling as though she had been caught doing something she shouldn't have been doing, even though she was alone. She scoffed at herself, realising how silly she was being.

'Honestly, you're over-thinking things.' She scolded herself. 'If anything, she probably just wants to be friends. And even if she wants more than that, how are you going to fit seeing her in between college and work?'

As she got out of the shower, dressed and quickly chomped down a bowl of cereal, she continued trying to convince herself not to get too attached to Santana. But all thoughts of taking a step back were completely wiped from her mind and her will power shattered as she heard her phone beep once again, signalling the arrival of a text message.

-I really hope I get to see you again Brittany. Oh, and one more thing… you're the most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.

"Damn it."

Santana and Brittany continued on like this for the next few weeks, texting and talking via phone or Skype whenever either of them had a spare moment. They found out general details about each other, for example, Brittany discovered that Santana was 21, and that she had just begun a career as a teacher, and had a deep love for musicals and Broadway shows, while Santana in turn found out that Brittany was a 19-year-old college student currently studying journalism with a wide interest in books and writing short stories. But they also shared more intricate information, things that they didn't tell many people; Brittany admitted to suffering from a bout of depression as a teenager, due to being bullied when she had first started high school, while Santana confessed that she had almost been thrown out onto the streets when she came out to her parents at the age of sixteen. But, despite these intense conversations, they always managed to end their conversations on a light note, the sound of laughter often reverberating round Santana's apartment, much to the annoyance of Quinn, with whom Santana shared the flat with.

The phone call she was currently having with Brittany involved the blonde telling her all about her cat, Lord Tubbington, and his crazy antics of the week, which included joining a street gang, putting all of Brittany's socks in the freezer, and getting arrested for illegally selling catnip on street corners.

Naturally, Santana had tears streaming down her face as she shook with laughter, head lolling back as she lounged across the sofa in the living room. Quinn waltzed in from the kitchen, rolling her eyes as Santana continued to giggle. The brunette noticed this and stuck her tongue out at her disgruntled best friend, before telling Brittany that she had to go and putting the phone down after a sickeningly sweet game of 'No, you hang up', much to Quinn's further annoyance.

"Jeez Q, your face is so sour, you make lemons look sweet."

"Ha ha, very funny." Quinn drawled.

"What's up with you today?" Santana griped, sitting up and watching Quinn accusingly. "You and Berry spend ninety percent of your time together sucking each other's faces and you don't hear me complaining."

Quinn huffed, rolling her eyes once again before fixing her gaze on Santana.

"It's not that I don't find it cute or whatever, albeit slightly irritating, it's just…"

"Yes?" Santana pressed impatiently."

"I don't know San, I just don't want you to rush into things. I mean, you met this woman, what, a month ago? And you're already acting like, I don't know, like you've known her for years."

"Aw, you jealous?" Santana smirked.

"No!" Quinn protested, a little too quickly, Santana thought. "I just don't want you falling head over heels for this girl then getting hurt."

"It's a little late for that." Came the mumbled reply.

"What?"

Santana averted her gaze, feeling her cheeks burn self-consciously.

"Well, like you said, I know it's only been a month, but I… I really like her, Quinn. Besides, you're the one who's always encouraging me to get out there and settle down!"

Her tone turned accusatory.

"Yes, but I didn't mean settle down with some random woman you met in a club!" Quinn exclaimed.

Santana's face dropped, and Quinn's expression immediately softened, her voice apologetic.

"Sorry, San. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just looking out for you, you know that, right?"

Santana nodded, smiling appreciatively.

"I mean, we've been like sisters since high school. It's my job to make sure no hoes be upsetting my baby girl!" Quinn joked, adopting the stereotypical sassy black girl voice that always cheered Santana up no matter what was going on.

True to form, Santana chuckled, before standing up and yawning.

"Well, thanks for the talk Q, but I've got to get to bed. Got an early start tomorrow."

"Oh right, the new job!" Quinn squealed. "You nervous?"

"Extremely. But I'm also really excited." Santana grinned.

"Don't worry San. You're going to kill it." Quinn beamed proudly. "You go girl!"

Santana giggled at Quinn's pseudo-voice once again, before entering her bedroom with a smile. She had a quick shower, then hopped into bed, sighing as she sunk into the soft mattress, swathing herself in her plump duvet. She closed her eyes, her mind settling on an image of a smiling Brittany before she was lost to the world of dreams and illusions.

Santana awoke with a start to the sound of her alarm honking obnoxiously, blinking to clear her eyes before groaning inwardly. She leaned over and slammed the off button, grumbling as she reluctantly heaved herself up and out of bed. She heard a clatter outside her bedroom door and, opening it slowly, was met with an image of Quinn frantically attempting to mop up a spillage of some sort of brown liquid.

"Uh, morning San! I was going to bring you coffee, but…"

"Don't worry about it Q." Santana chuckled, before making her way into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, and Santana was perched at the kitchen counter, enjoying a slice of toast smothered in Nutella, as Quinn nibbled on a banana while reading the morning paper.

"So," Quinn mumbled, mouth full of potassium-infused fruit, "Jou all eggy bor joday?"

"Sorry?" Santana asked, stifling a laugh.

Quinn made an effort to swallow before speaking again.

"I said, you all ready for today?"

Santana nodded, but Quinn could sense her hesitation.

"Don't stress so much, S. They're going to love you. You'll be their favourite teacher by the end of the day, you'll see."

Quinn smiled reassuringly, and Santana returned her smile, feeling slightly less nervous about the upcoming day. They sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, until Quinn had to leave for her part-time day job, where she worked at a small coffee shop until it was time to open her club. Santana waved goodbye to the blonde, before gathering up her stuff and placing it in the sink. She gave herself one more check up in the mirror, scrutinising every aspect of her carefully chosen outfit; she had donned her favourite black fitted blazer, and paired it with a white shirt and a black pencil skirt, complete with black kitten heels. She had opted for no tights today, as it was relatively warm outside, so her legs were naked, her caramel skin shiny and smooth.

She smiled confidently at her reflection and took one last calming breath, before grabbing her bag and keys and making her way down into the streets below. She walked the short distance to the train station and didn't have to wait long before a train arrived, ready to escort her into this new chapter of her life.

Brittany was lounging back, chuckling at something her best friend, Kurt, had just said. Her head was resting on his thigh as she lay stretched across the desk, legs lolling over the side, taking some time to wind down after their first lecture of the day, which involved learning how to edit an article and how to know when it was fit for publishing. She was currently hanging out with her small group of friends who she had met during her first week at Northwestern, and everyone across the campus simply knew them as 'that group'; their gang consisted of Kurt Hummel, a witty, flamboyant young man with a love for fashion and sarcastic quips; Sugar Motta, a girl who was just as sweet as her name suggested but sometimes lacked the common sense a person is expected to have; Artie Abrams, who was one of the best dancers Brittany had ever seen and who also had a secret passion for comic books; Mercedes Jones, a sassy young woman with the voice of a diva who was fiercely protective of her friends; and, of course, Brittany Pierce. They had all met when they had gone to audition for the college's show choir club, and through a mutual love of dancing, singing and just having a good time, they had bonded and were now inseparable.

"So, you guys heard the news?" Artie said, his arm slung around Sugar's shoulder.

"Huh?"

"What news?"

"No, what is it?"

"What's crackalackin', home boy?"

"Apparently, Mr Jenkins quit because he got offered a new job teaching English at Yale, so we're getting a new teacher for Media Studies."

"Huh."

"Yeah, and I also heard that she's like, insanely hot."

"Artie!" Sugar exclaimed.

"What?!"

Brittany just rolled her eyes, giggling as she observed her friends. A few more minutes passed until it was time for them to go to class. Mercedes stood and stretched, prompting the others to do the same. They gathered their belongings and traipsed up to the building, shuffling up the stairs until they reached the second floor where their classroom was located. They piled in, taking their respective seats. Brittany brought out her phone, planning on sending a quick text to Santana wishing her a good day, when the sound of heels softly clicking entered the room. Her eyes were glued to her phone, but they shot up when she heard a voice that was all too familiar resonate through the room.

"Hello everyone. My name is Miss Lopez and I'll be your teacher for the rest of this semester."

Brittany's jaw dropped. She stared incredulously as she watched Santana stride across the room and set up her things on the desk in the left-hand corner.

Santana hadn't surveyed the room fully yet, and it wasn't until she had set down her bag and her Styrofoam coffee cup that she glanced up.

Blue eyes locked onto brown.

Santana gasped audibly, almost tripping over her bag in her astonishment.

The other students watched her curiously, some following her line of sight and seeing Brittany's expression mirror that of their new teacher's. But Santana quickly remembered where she was and she shook her head slightly, clearing her throat before averting her gaze and smiling awkwardly.

"So, uh, like I said, I'm going to be your new teacher for this module. Now, why don't we start by going over what you all looked at last week, which was investigating how the media can have an impact on society, and who is the most vulnerable when it comes to victims of such widespread broadcasting…"

The lesson seemed to drag on and on, but finally, the hour was up. The students were dismissed, and they all raced out, eagerly anticipating their lunch break. All students apart from one.

"You coming Britt?" Sugar asked, as she noticed Brittany lingering around by her desk.

"Uh, yeah. In a minute. I, uh, I have a question for Miss Lopez."

Brittany didn't miss Santana's half-smirk from where she stood behind Sugar as the blonde addressed her in such a formal yet necessary manner.

Sugar waved and bounded from the room, leaving a thick silence to settle over it. Brittany shuffled awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

"So…"

"Brittany."

The blonde looked up, eyes bright, loving the way her name sounded rolling off Santana's tongue. She walked over to the slightly shorter woman, smiling as she slyly reached down to toy with her wrist.

"Yes?"

"This can't happen."

Brittany immediately stopped her movements, head snapping up violently.

"What?"

"This. Us. It can't happen. Not if I'm going to be your teacher. It's just… it's wrong."

Brittany simply stared at Santana, eyes panicked, mouth open but no words were coming out.

"But- I mean, you can't just drop this on me, this is, I don't understand-" Brittany was babbling, tears beginning to build in her ocean-blue eyes.

Santana's heart felt like it was being wrenched out of her chest, but she knew she had to nip this in the bud before they were in too deep.

"Brittany, I'm your teacher now. It would be wrong for us to… we could both get into serious trouble. It could be worse, I mean, at least no serious feelings have been developed yet-"

"WHAT?" Brittany cried. "How can you say that? How can you stand there and say that there are no serious feelings between us? All those texts, the late-night phone calls, you don't class that as serious? What's your definition of serious, me on one knee with a ring in my hand?"

"Brittany, calm down-"

"No! I can't believe you've just decided to end this, like you've got all the power! This is unbelievable, I can't even look at you right now."

Brittany turned away from Santana, curled in on herself, shoulders shaking.

"Britt-"

"Don't call me that." Brittany snarled.

Santana recoiled as if Brittany had physically slapped her, the venom in the blonde's voice wounding her more than she ever thought possible.

"Brittany, please, just look at me."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"It hurts too much."

And with that, Brittany walked out, managing to make it a few steps down the corridor before she sunk down against the wall, her body wracked with sobs that sounded as if they were being torn from her very core.