A/N: More specific thanks are in order for AncientTeenager and the wonderful PoetzProblem for mentioning this story on Tumblr (and to jock for guiding me to the post).
.
I guess I am a scout
.
Hands wrapped around a thermos of coffee, Santana glares at the sky, which is tinged with dawn, as Brittany drives them over to Rachel's house. Santana's car is already there, with a few things shoved into the back. Everything else is in the truck Rachel's parents will be driving.
As they pull up, Santana is surprised to see Quinn's car there—or rather, her mother's car that she's been borrowing all summer—just behind hers on the curb. She frowns. It's so early (did Quinn stay at Rachel's overnight?). She and Brittany had driven over to Puck's in Brittany's car yesterday, and Quinn and Rachel had taken Rachel's car (it had made sense, since Brittany lived on the other side of town from Rachel and Quinn, for them to take two cars from packing at Rachel's to Puck's). So Santana is trying to remember if Quinn's car has moved. She's honestly not sure.
She had expected Brittany to be the only one to see them off, honestly. She'd said her goodbyes to her parents the day before, after they'd packed her things into the truck and were about to take it over to Rachel's (it had been easier to pack Santana's things, since Rachel's parents were providing more of the communal furniture). She'd hugged both her parents, but especially her mom, had given them an exceedingly rare "I love you," and had told them under no condition to show up today because it would be too hard to say goodbye to them and Brittany all at once.
But Quinn's here. Even though she's pretty sure she hugged Quinn goodbye the night before as she and Brittany left, but it's hard to say, because it's all so hazy; they'd all stayed longer than they had anticipated. And when they knock on the front door and Quinn answers, her appearance gives Santana no clues about whether or not she stayed the night. She's dressed, in jeans, a small, plain t-shirt that Santana doesn't recognize (could it be Rachel's?), and with her letterman slung over her arm (would Quinn have packed that in anticipation of a cold morning? Or does that indicate she came over this morning? But it's really not a cold morning, and Quinn's hair looks messy? Would she leave her house with it like that?).
Santana stops thinking about it when Quinn ushers them in, to find Rachel in the kitchen, pouring coffee into four thermoses. "I've got one," Santana intones, and Rachel nods, but fills the fourth anyway "just in case." Her fathers are loading the dishwasher with, presumably, the breakfast dishes, but Santana doesn't pay enough attention in time to count whether there were three or four of anything (but would that tell her anything anyway; Quinn could have arrived early enough to be offered breakfast, and why is she so fixated on this anyway? Is she jealous of their friendship? That makes no sense).
"We're just about ready," Rachel broadcasts, her manic energy already making Santana wince. Rachel races up the stairs, each footstep thudding loudly in Santana's sleep-deprived headache-y skull, and Brittany wraps a sympathetic arm around her when she sees her expression. Quinn seems to be wincing slightly as well, but she turns and gives Santana a shrug and a fond smile, then moves to her side and slides an arm around her shoulders, so that Santana is being held lightly between both blondes. She closes her eyes and basks in their affection for a moment, and Rachel's parents brush by them to head up the stairs in a much more subdued manner.
Rachel comes racing down the stairs not long after, wearing a backpack and clutching a small bag—perhaps a toiletry bag—relaying, "My dads will be down momentarily. Do you have anything to throw into the car, Santana?"
Santana nods, and Rachel produces her car key (left there just in case the car had needed to move for any reason) and they put Rachel's bags, and Santana's bag from Brittany's car into Santana's black Toyota. Then they stand awkwardly on the sidewalk, all staring at each other.
Finally, Rachel breaks the silence to say to Brittany warmly, "Back in uniform, I see?"
Brittany nods, "Cheer camp starts today. I think I'm gonna be head cheerleader." Santana smiles and winces simultaneously. She's proud of Brittany, because she's sure she'll get it, but frustrated that she's repeating a year. And more frustrating, cheer camp is one reason Brittany can't come help them move. It's two and a half weeks of non-stop cheerleading until the first day of school, which is different than previous years, which used to have the cheerleaders there staying over Monday through Thursday, with weekends at home, for the entire month of August. Santana supposes it's Roz Washington's influence, or maybe, god, did Sue Sylvester spawn yet? She has no idea when the baby is due, but maybe it was pushed back for that.
"You are," Rachel and Quinn say simultaneously, the former encouragingly, the latter decisively, then make eye contact and smile a little bit stupidly.
Rachel's fathers come out of the house shortly afterwards, carrying small rolling suitcases that they tuck into Santana's backseat. Depending on their timing, they may attempt to catch a late train or flight home that night if they can get one, or they might stay in a hotel and leave the next day, but they've made it clear they're not staying with Santana and Rachel, which, Santana appreciates their courtesy, even though she feels like she's reeling and the presence of parents may actually help for once…
"Are you ladies ready?" Leroy asks them with a sympathetic smile.
"We'll give you a few minutes," Hiram cuts in before they can answer and gives a mirrored smile, and he and Leroy hop up into the moving truck to wait.
Santana turns to Quinn and leans in to wrap her in a fierce hug. Neither of them have necessarily been huggers their whole lives, but it's comfortable, resting her cheek on Quinn's shoulder and squeezing so tightly she's nearly nuzzling the girl's neck. Quinn expels a soft sigh into Santana's hair and says, her voice tight, "I'll see you soon, San."
"I know, Q. I can't wait," she says honestly.
Meanwhile, she hears the same kinds of murmurs from Rachel and Brittany, and she and Quinn part in time to see Brittany lift a surprised Rachel (who responds with the appropriate squeal) and spin her once before saying, "I'm so excited for you, Rachel! I'll see you for Thanksgiving?" Rachel giggles and nods. Brittany turns to Quinn and grins widely before enveloping her into a huge hug, gushing into Quinn's neck, "I might not get to see you before you leave, because of cheer camp, but I love you, Q, and you're gonna be amazing!"
Quinn breathes in deeply and a, "Love you, head Cheerio," barely passes her lips as she again attempts to hold back her tears. Brittany chuckles and pats Quinn's hair affectionately as they pull apart.
And then…Santana meets Brittany's eyes, sees the bright ocean blues mist slightly and takes the quick strides to her before flinging her arms around her and holding her so tight she's not sure it would even be possible to produce the breath to cry. Brittany clings back just as tightly and after several very long moments, they kiss, a rough, clumsy kiss with clacking teeth and bumping foreheads, before Brittany whispers tremulously, "I'm going to be late for cheer camp, but I don't want to let go of you, baby…"
Santana holds her tighter for a few more moments and then pulls back slightly and swallows, "I don't want you to have to watch me drive away. You should go now, baby. I love you, Britts. I'll see you so soon. I'll call you tonight."
"I love you, Santana," Brittany responds, and Santana feels the gravity of her words, feels how much different they are than the same words spoken to Quinn. Brittany sends a wave to the side mirror of the moving truck and one to Quinn and Rachel, who seem to be too engrossed in each other to notice, and steps gracefully into her car. Santana stares at the champagne-colored car as Brittany pulls away, watching until it's out of sight.
When she can no longer see Brittany, she starts toward her own car, but then it registers that Rachel and Quinn are still saying goodbye. She watches, half-annoyed that they're managing to take longer than her and Brittany, and half-fascinated by the way Quinn is holding Rachel's shoulders lightly and Rachel's hands are resting on Quinn's biceps. She can't see Quinn's face, but Rachel's eyes are wide and dark, and she can barely hear Quinn saying, "I'm so proud of you, and I'm going to see you so soon, Rachel. You're on your way to an amazing life." Rachel looks as though Quinn has just told her the most important thing she will ever learn, with the way her attention is completely held by the girl, by the way her eye contact never wavers in the slightest. Santana tries not to huff and inspects her nails out of sudden discomfort. She feels like she has intruded on something private.
The two hug one more time (and Santana does huff at this, but neither seem to notice), and they pull apart and Rachel starts toward the car. Santana can see her wipe away a tear, can see several fresh tears on Quinn's face, and Rachel turns to look at Quinn as she moves around the car and lowers herself into the driver's seat. Santana's in no mood to argue about who drives; she wants a nap before she has to drive her parts of their approximately 11-hour trip.
Rachel starts the car, tips the rearview mirror down slightly, and gives a short honk to let her parents know they're ready to go. They hear the truck rumble to life. Rachel fishes out a printed version of their directions and tells Santana it's also already input into Maps on her phone, and then they follow the truck as it pulls away from the curb. Santana can't help but watch Quinn in her side mirror, standing almost forlornly with her hands in her letterman pockets on the sidewalk in front of the Berry house, watching them drive away. She misses the way Rachel watches Quinn in her review mirror, too.
.
I hope your dreams are as good as mine
.
It's the day after what was probably one of the most exhausting and stressful days of Santana's life, and both she and Rachel managed to sleep until eleven—which is about twelve hours of sleep. But that only made sense considering they'd been up very early, drove for almost twelve hours—caravanning with the truck slowed them somewhat—and spent over an hour unloading the truck. Rachel's dads stayed just long enough to help them put together their beds, since that was the most important furniture, and then took the truck to its drop-off location and checked into a hotel. They had probably left town already.
Santana's room is filled with boxes and bags and furniture at the moment. Nothing is where it should be yet, but at least her bed is comfortable. Both she and Rachel bought new twin beds—in fact, Rachel got all new furniture—when they'd realized their current beds were probably going to be too big for the space they had. Santana had brought some of her own furniture from her room, so it was a little mismatched, but Rachel's all matched—it was all blonde wood. Santana didn't really care about the matching, but she appreciated that Rachel had also sacrificed to downsize on her bed; her room—she had taken the larger room—was big enough that she probably could have brought a larger bed.
Shuffling out into their kitchenette, Santana groans upon realizing their coffee machine is still in one of the boxes stacked in the corner. She starts to dig through them, grumbling all the while. There's a lot to do today. Santana had assured Hiram and Leroy that she could handle putting together the rest of the new furniture and they'd given her and Rachel a small tool kit. Santana had smirked and joked that now she would be expected to take care of minor household repairs, which did make Rachel's dads laugh and Rachel frown slightly at the implication that she'd be incapable, but ultimately, she laughed too. But there will be unpacking, assembling, helping each other move furniture…They also need to buy groceries. Rachel's dads left them a gift card to the nearest grocery store as another housewarming gift. They brought a few dry goods with them—some cereal, coffee, a few cans of beans, a loaf of bread…but there's so much else to buy.
And Santana can't face any of this shit if she can't have coffee. She's digging through the boxes when she hears the light footsteps behind her and stands and turns, folding her arms. Rachel regards her warily through bleary eyes, clearly sensing her frustration, and folds her arms over her chest guardedly. Santana vaguely notes that Rachel's wearing very small cotton shorts and a tank top, and if she weren't so exhausted and frustrated, she'd probably mildly appreciate the sight (what, she's in love with Brittany, but she's not blind, and Rachel isn't unattractive). She also remembers that she's wearing Cheerios shorts with a matching tank top and wonders vaguely if this outfit is adding to Rachel's anxiety, but whatever. "Any idea where the fuck the coffee machine is?"
"There's no need for that kind of language, Santana," Rachel chastises, and the way it trails off into a yawn dulls Santana's annoyance. "And yes. I think it's in this one." Rachel crouches down in front of a different stack of boxes and opens one, soon extracting their new coffee machine. It's nothing fancy, only makes about six cups, but neither of them are that picky—Santana just needs morning caffeine, and Rachel rarely drinks coffee, though she anticipates she'll develop the habit by living a student's lifestyle.
"Thanks," Santana grunts begrudgingly.
Rachel beams and hesitates, requesting softly, "Can you make me a cup? I'm still exhausted from yesterday."
Santana nods absently, reminding her, "Lots to do today."
"Ugh," is Rachel's response, but as she stands on her toes and tugs a loaf of bread down from a cabinet, asking Santana if she wants toast, Santana can't help but smile through her caffeine withdrawal headache. Their simpatico in the kitchen feels auspicious.
The day goes about as well as can be expected. Santana assembles their furniture, with some help from Rachel, and they help each other move the furniture where they want it. They head to the grocery store in Santana's car, which is stressful as hell. Santana hopes traffic won't be this insane when she's heading to work.
It's amusing, though, because the fact that they're both famished because they had just peanut butter sandwiches for lunch means their cart is ridiculously full. But at the meat counter, Santana gnaws on her tongue and stares at the thick slabs of beef and chicken. Her stomach roils, but not from hunger this time. She turns to Rachel, who is watching her, biting her lip uncertainly. Finally, Santana sighs, "I'm just now realizing I really don't know how to cook any of this shit."
An amused exhalation, and Rachel responds, "Language, Santana, and well, as you know, I am vegan, so I am of no help there."
Running a hand through her hair, Santana questions, "Would…the smell of it bother you, anyway? I mean, I don't know how often we'll be eating together because of our schedules, so I'd probably be making a lot of my own food anyway, but I wouldn't want to…make you feel nauseous in your own home."
A shrug, "It might, slightly. But I want you to eat what you want."
Santana eyes the wet-looking flaps of chicken and that disgust fills her belly again. She imagines trying to cook it and messing it up and getting sick. She turns away, "I'm sticking with hotdogs and lunch meat. Only ordering that stuff from restaurants. Congrats, Berry. Your new roommate is an occasional vegetarian." Rachel beams at this and Santana rolls her eyes, smiling slightly herself, and they attack the organic aisle to a degree that shocks Santana.
After putting away a literal car-full of groceries—managing to spend the entire gift certificate and then some, because shit, groceries are more expensive here—Rachel makes spaghetti and salad for dinner (nothing special, a box of whole wheat spaghetti, a jar of sauce and a plastic container of mixed greens), and they devour that. The next step is actually unpacking boxes, and neither of them are quite ready for that, so they flop onto their new-and-used living room furniture with their laptops (Santana silently thanks Rachel's foresight in calling the cable company far in advance, because their internet had been set up just before they left for the grocery store).
Santana is scrolling absentmindedly through photos of Brittany on Facebook when she hears Rachel gasp. Eyebrows quirking, Santana glances up to see Rachel's face matches the outburst—her hand is over her mouth and her eyes are wide, staring at her screen. "Everything okay?" Santana tries to sound casual to mask her curiosity and—she'll admit it, but not out loud—concern.
Rachel meets Santana's gaze and questions softly, "Did Quinn tell you about the gift she gave me before school ended?"
Santana shrugs in response, "Can't say it ever came up."
Biting her lip, Rachel deflects her gaze and quietly states, "You have heard us say that we're going to be visiting each other a lot, I'm sure." At Santana's nod, she continues, "It's because of the gift. Quinn got us each Metro-North passes. So we can go see each other whenever we want."
"Huh," Santana responds, sensing that it's required. "That's pretty awesome, actually." She waits for Rachel to continue with whatever shocked her.
Nodding, Rachel agrees, "It's very sweet. I told her as much. But I never thought much about…the cost. And I was just looking it up, to have an idea of what it will cost to replace when it expires, and, Santana…they're…well, I knew they must be somewhat pricey, but…they're nearly two hundred dollars apiece. And she bought two…she…I didn't even know if I'd be in New York at that point! And she was already spending that kind of money on me when we'd barely been friends for a few months, at most!"
Staring at Rachel, Santana feels a flash of…jealously, initially. Quinn had certainly never exactly been frugal when giving gifts, but this…this was huge. But then that fades and is replaced by puzzlement and a kind of strange feeling, like she's forgotten about a close family member. It does seem strange for Quinn to do this, especially if things were still up in the air for Rachel. And though clearly Quinn and Rachel had become close this summer, Santana wasn't aware that they'd been close enough to warrant this kind of promise of continued contact when school was still in session.
Santana is sure she's missing something. That there's some piece of information about the friendship between Quinn and Rachel that will make Quinn's behavior make sense. But she doesn't have it, and clearly Rachel doesn't either, and Santana feels instinctively that asking Quinn why she spent that kind of money to ensure her friendship with Rachel stays strong would just be…awkward somehow. So instead she shrugs and says, "Quinn must've had faith in you and New York, and in your friendship. That sounds like her. So how long are they valid?"
Rachel shakes her head and chuckles, "I can make ten trips in six months, starting over the summer and so ending in December, unfortunately, but if we each have ten trips, that's five there and back, and since school is generally about sixteen weeks long, we can expect to see each other more weekends than not!"
Santana laughs, kind of uncontrollably as the absurdity turns into hilarity in her mind. "Damn, Berry. Quinn must really like you!" She shifts her gaze back to her laptop, figuring that's the end of the conversation, and misses the way Rachel bites her lip hard at Santana's words and then soothes it with her tongue, eyes puzzled.
.
I could sleep for a thousand years
.
They get the boxes in their apartment unpacked the next day, although there are a few boxes shoved into the back of their surprisingly deep hall closet of things that don't really fit at the moment. Santana likes her room, even though it's small, and Rachel's larger room has just enough space for her desk and elliptical. Their living room is a bit bigger than they realized; the couch, armchair, coffee table, entertainment center and bookshelf aren't as crowded as they thought they might be. Santana reflects that she could have brought a desk and it would fit in the room, but she doesn't regret her choice. She really doesn't need one at this point. She mostly uses her laptop on the couch or on her bed.
Now, Santana is attempting to stay up as late as she can, since she starts her first work shift in two nights. Even though she was frequently awake until two or three in the morning during the summer, it's become unusually difficult. The excitement of the new apartment, or perhaps the unfamiliarity, or the stuffy heat in her room, had forced her awake at around eight that morning, even when she tried to sleep in. Plus, their walls are a little thin, and occasionally, if Rachel drops something, or hits a high note in the shower, it wakes Santana up.
Her eyelids are drooping, out of her control. She glances at the clock. 1:30. This is pathetic. Santana opens YouTube and starts playing music, but not too loudly. She's scrolling through pictures of Brittany again. They'd only been able to talk on the phone for a little bit the past few nights—Cheer camp is really exhausting and Brittany needs her rest. Santana misses her. She's listening to some music Puck sent her awhile ago—Metric, because it's pretty upbeat and bass-heavy, and "pretty good for chick music," as Puck said—and staring at Facebook and…
Apparently, it didn't work very well, because Rachel shakes her awake at about 7:00am. She's sprawled back on the couch with her laptop balanced on her hips—thank god she didn't turn over in the night—YouTube stalling out on a video where the plugin refused to load, Facebook open to a picture of Brittany holding Lord Tubbington and winking at the camera.
Santana groans loudly and closes her laptop, setting it on the coffee table, "I might've made it to 2am," she grunts, shuffling to her room and laying back down in bed. Even though Rachel isn't keeping her awake—Santana can't hear her at all—Santana can't fall back to sleep, and by 7:30, she huffs and grumbles obscenities as she kicks off her blankets and drags her feet to the coffee machine.
They spend their first day not unpacking exploring their neighborhood a little more thoroughly than they had on their earlier New York trip. There's surprisingly little to see, as it's mostly residential, but there are some restaurants and convenience stores and coffee shops around. Santana accompanies Rachel to her campus—she won't start orientation for another week—but they walk all around and Rachel maps out where her classes are and where she'll have to go for orientation. Santana smiles at her enthusiasm, but has to admit she's mildly jealous of Rachel's future opening up in front of her. Santana's future right now is retail work. It makes her stomach roil.
That night produces similar results. She wonders if maybe she should've stayed home and relaxed rather than explored with Rachel, but the truth is, she enjoyed exploring and the company. But Santana finds herself dropping off on the couch at around 2am. She sighs and goes to bed, managing to sleep until about 10, which…could be worse.
But understandably, as the evening comes closer, Santana is freaking out. She's wearing the clothes required for her uniform and is sitting on the couch staring at the wall. Rachel comes back from grabbing a few things at the grocery store—bread was the necessity that forced her to go—and frowns when she sees Santana. "Santana? Did you eat dinner? And what are you packing for your lunch?"
Santana rubs a hand over her face and repeats uncertainly, "Packing my lunch?"
Frowning, Rachel lectures, "I know you were on quite a restrictive diet throughout high school, but you can't expect yourself to make it through an eight hour work shift without replenishing your energy. Especially as you are quite likely going to be exhausted."
"Ugh. No, you're right. I guess I thought I might buy something there."
"Which is both unhealthy and not economically feasible in the long run," Rachel affirms. She opens the refrigerator and, frowning, says darkly, "I am about to do something for you that goes against my morals."
Forehead wrinkling, Santana watches silently as Rachel takes out a carton of eggs and puts half of them in a pot of water, then sets it on the stove to boil. She shudders and, unnecessarily, washes her hands.
"Hard boiled eggs?" Santana questions.
"Yes. You'll need protein to keep yourself functioning tonight. Just sugar won't be sufficient, though you'll need some of that, too."
Santana watches with her mouth parted in surprise as Rachel makes her a cheese sandwich with lettuce and tomato, and tucks an apple, a few vegan cookies and a bottle of water in a paper bag. She sets up the coffee machine, and then asks, "Quesadilla?" Santana nods dumbly, still on the couch and feeling unable to move, and can see into the kitchen as Rachel cooks a quesadilla for her, finishing the eggs in the meantime, then brings the quesadilla to her and sets it on the coffee table. "I'll start the coffee in about an hour so it's hot when you have to leave." She smiles while Santana stares.
"I just…" Santana starts. Rachel looks puzzled, so she continues, "I just don't understand what happened to my life. I used to torture you, now we live together and you just made me lunch and dinner. A non-vegan lunch and dinner."
Rachel's smile is a little shaky now, "I forgave you for that so long ago, Santana. I know you're nervous about your first day" (Santana, automatically, tries to scoff, but it barely comes out) "and I want to help. Besides, you were kind enough to come to the NYADA campus with me the other day."
Santana shrugs and lifts up a triangle of quesadilla, scooping salsa onto it, "Thanks," she mumbles, mouth full, and Rachel beams and bounces off to her bedroom. Santana reflects that she's rarely had friendships that weren't also either love affairs or power struggles. And even though Rachel mentioned that she appreciated Santana's company the other day, Santana knows that her help this evening isn't reciprocation, and that she doesn't expect anything in particular in return. Which…when did Berry become so much less selfish? She really doesn't know how to deal with that at the moment.
.
Four football fields of Chinese crap
.
Luckily, it turns out traffic is fairly light in the evening, and she can make it to work in about fifteen minutes if the stoplights are favorable. She steps through the main entrance to the building and heads toward where her interview was, before stopping, and realizing she doesn't know the code to get in the door.
The vague sense of anxiety and confusion—new, and unfamiliar, and totally throwing her off her game—continues. She manages to get inside when someone opens the door from the other side and get clocked in on time—after fishing around in her wallet for the string of numbers she had been given that now identify her—but then has no idea what she's supposed to be doing. She supposes there must be some kind of orientation. She hangs around the time clock for awhile, listening as a woman with a slight accent announces that the store is closed, but that it will be open later tomorrow (it's Sunday, Santana remembers, the hours must be different), but when, after ten minutes, no one says anything to her, she walks out of the employee's center and approaches the first guy she sees in uniform. He's short, white, middle-aged and, she soon learns, has a thick Brooklyn accent.
"I'm new," she states, trying not to sound as anxious as she feels, but knowing that her eyes are wider than they ever are normally, "And I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing. Who can I talk to that's in charge?"
The guy's expression is sympathetic, but he quips, "In charge? Way things go around here, I dunno if anyone's really in charge."
Santana smiles tightly, but his sense of humor doesn't really quell her nerves, and the guy ambles back toward the rear of the store, introducing himself as Johnny while they walk. They head through some swinging double doors into—god, what is this even? Ten or so people—mostly black men ranging in age from late twenties to early fifties, she notices—are sending boxes down a conveyor belt of some kind and stacking them, seemingly randomly, onto different black plastic pallets. A tall, broad-shouldered white man is shouting something at the end of the line, and Santana looks past their heads to see a few other guys pulling boxes down from what it takes her a moment to realize is the back of a truck, absolutely packed full.
Johnny gets the attention of the tall white guy, who regards Santana intently, "I'm Stu. And you're?"
"Santana Lopez. I was hired a few months ago, but had to move to town first. They told me this was to be my first shift."
"Huh. They must've forgot to pass the message along to me," Stu shrugs, "What did you get hired on to do?"
"…Overnight?" is the only answer Santana has.
"Hmm. You been trained?"
She shakes her head. He regards her for another minute or so, then says, "Well, I know where they need help right now. Let me introduce you to Helen."
She follows him back out into the store, listening uncertainly as he spouts off numbers at her. They're open late, but not all night. They're an extremely high-volume store, and get trucks every night, sometimes multiple trucks, just to keep their shelves stocked. They're also a high-theft store. Most of this doesn't matter much to Santana, she just wants to know what they want her to do while she's here all night.
Eventually, over in the shampoo aisle, they find an exasperated-looking brunette, probably not much older than Santana, saying something to a tall, confused-looking guy. Stu nods and calls, "Helen? This is Santana. She'll be helping you out," and then walks away. Helen, still in mid-conversation with the confused guy, barely spares Santana a glance and a quick greeting, before continuing to explain something that makes no sense to Santana to the guy—about sections, and tying something up, and resetting something. She stands awkwardly and watches. She notes a group of guys, probably mostly in their mid-twenties, are working on something at the end of the aisle. They're mostly black or Latino, and some catch her eye and smile in greeting, which Santana returns somewhat awkwardly, most of her attention still focused on Helen.
Helen finally turns to her and says, her voice calmer than when she spoke to the man, "Hey. Are you new, or did you just switch to overnight, or…?"
"New. Brand new. First night," Santana responds.
Helen nods, and Santana notices she doesn't quite meet her eyes and her expression remains stoic through their conversation, "What did they tell you you were supposed to be doing when they hired you?"
"Overnight was the only thing they said," Santana shrugs.
"Well, if Stu put you with me, I guess he wants you to help with the remodel."
"Remodel?" Santana asks, knowing her voice just rose slightly in register. She knows she's a lesbian and may have just put together an apartment's worth of furniture, but if they're going to ask her to do construction…
When Helen does smile, it's warm, and lingers on her face. "It's not as bad as it sounds. We're nearly finished, in fact. They expanded the store a bit to improve the grocery section, but had to rearrange just about everything to do it. There are contractors here to do the major stuff, but we put the shelves back together the way they're supposed to go."
Santana nods and follows Helen to the employee area and watches her print something out, which takes a lot longer than it should because the printer seems to be cheap and awful, and Santana enjoys the chance to sit and relax, and then they head over to the toy section to a completely empty aisle. "Luckily," Helen says, "I've got a perfect training example right here." She shows Santana the now-stapled pile of papers (she calls it a "planogram"), which contain blueprint-like pictures, and lists, and she tries to show Santana how to read the information to figure out where shelves go. And, it turns out, Santana gets it fairly quickly. She's always been good with numbers, and with spatial reasoning, and once she learns the trick to locking the metal shelves into place, and the ways to choose the best slot to get the closest to the required height (she borrows Helen's tape measurer for the project), she feels like she's got it. Helen's pleased, and graces Santana with that short-lived half-smile again, "Took the rest of my team a week to figure that out," she mutters.
Not long afterwards, Stu's voice hollers over the intercom that it's time for break. Helen meets her eyes, "I'm heading to Starbucks for a coffee. Want to come along?"
Santana nods, grateful because she doesn't know what to do during this break, and says, "I brought a coffee, but I'll come for the ride."
The ride turns out to be a little red truck. Santana can't help but laugh, "Seriously? Okay, I'm from western Ohio, and these were like, as common as herpes, but here?"
"Hey, don't knock it," Helen responds, "You wouldn't believe how much free and cheap furniture I was able to furnish my apartment with because I could haul it myself! Besides, it used to be my brother's. Wasn't gonna turn down a cheap car."
On the way there, Santana asks, "So are you a manager?"
Helen snorts, "Nah. They'd never promote me, because I don't tend to play nice."
"But you seem to be in charge."
"That's out of necessity. I sort of am, tonight. That idiot you saw me talking to when Stu dropped you by is actually our executive manager. But he doesn't know the first thing about the work. The regular manager is actually a pretty good guy, but he's off tonight, and when he is here, they give him so much else to do that he has to rely on me a lot. I'm the most experienced because, unfortunately, I've been here for three years." She grimaces, and the short ride to Starbucks is over.
She stands awkwardly next to Helen as she orders her iced coffee, wishing she could file her nails, that go-to nervous habit that had turned out to be such a godsend when she started sleeping with Brittany, and eventually decides to check her phone. She sees she's gotten several messages, all spaced about an hour apart, from Rachel.
Berry: Good luck tonight!
Berry: I hope it's going okay so far!
Berry: They must be keeping you busy,
that's a good thing, right?
Berry: Have you had a chance to have
lunch yet? I hope it's good!
The last message was only a few minutes ago, and she follows Helen back out to her car, composing a reply as they get in.
Tana: Thx, Berry, doin fine so far. A lil
confusing at 1st. And I'll get to eat it in a
few mins!
She notes Helen watching her, and slides her phone back into her pocket. "My roommate. Checking up on me."
Helen's grin is conspiratorial this time, and absolutely transforms her face, "Roommate, huh?"
Eyes widening when she's struck by the implication, Santana exclaims, "Oh my god. Yeah, just my roommate."
Helen's smile sticks around a little longer as they sit in the truck and drink their coffees (Santana left her lunch in the refrigerator in the break room, and doesn't want to go in and get it, but, probably because she's so tired, she's not that hungry), and it occurs to Santana all at once that they practically just came out to each other. She eyes Helen surreptitiously. There's nothing really about her that screams gay—but then, Santana supposes there's nothing about her, either. The uniforms would probably make anyone look gay, since it's logical to choose loose and comfortable clothes. Helen's long hair is out of the way in a ponytail, but her impassive face is devoid of makeup. And that knowing grin, the innuendo. She must be gay, right?
It's a little thrilling, that the first new person she meets in New York might be gay, too.
.
Strange you should want it the same
.
Santana shuffles home blearily after her shift, cursing the sun that's already risen. She'd done more of the same, working with Helen, learning everything she can. She never felt hungry, but managed to down the lunch Rachel packed her anyway, and found that she must've been hungry without realizing it, because it was satisfying. Helen has a dry sense of humor, and is patient, and Santana thinks her first day could've gone a lot worse, but god, is she ever exhausted.
Pushing into the apartment, she's surprised to see Rachel sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, her eyes fuzzy as she stares blankly at a page in a book (Oryx and Crake, which Santana thinks she's seen at Quinn's house before). She sets the book aside and smiles, and Santana can't help but raise her eyebrows. "What are you doing awake?"
Rachel smiles, "Well, this is just about my normal wake-up time, although I will be getting a bit more sleep today."
Frowning, Santana remembers that her phone had been vibrating earlier, but she was too busy to check it. She brings it out now and sees she has four messages from Rachel.
Berry: I'm glad it's going okay! I hope
you enjoy the lunch.
Berry: Just checking in!
Berry: It's actually a relief you're not
responding, it must mean it's not awful.
Berry: Only an hour and a half left! You
can do it!
Santana looks up. "Did you seriously wake up every hour to text me?"
Licking her lips uncertainly, Rachel simply responds, "Yep."
Santana's eyes are suddenly no longer bleary, and they're boring into Rachel's. "Why?"
Rachel sweeps her bangs out of her eyes and frowns, "I was just trying to be supportive, Santana."
"No, no," Santana starts, "I'm just…I don't know how to take you being so…has anyone ever told you you're incredibly selfless?"
Her laugh is loud. "You would be the first."
"You are." Santana darts her eyes away, abruptly awkward, "You're a good person, Rachel."
"It's not really selfless when it's me trying to cultivate a deep and lasting friendship between us," Rachel uncertainly intones.
Santana chuckles wearily, dropping her eyes in an uncomfortable feeling of warmth at Rachel's admission, staring at her nails just to have something to focus on. "Berry. You're…we're cool. Seriously. Now go to bed. That's what I'm gonna do."
Smiling and walking back to her room, trailing her blanket behind her, Rachel breathes, "Welcome home, Santana."
Her own smile erupting despite her exhaustion, Santana closes her door, turns on her window air conditioner (they'd just acquired three from Craigslist yesterday, finding no other way to deal with an apartment without central air), and gets ready for bed.
.
Things have gotten closer to the sun
.
The first thing Santana's sure of when she wakes up is that she needs thicker curtains. Despite her exhaustion, it took her way too long to fall asleep. She glances at the clock. 2pm, and she feels awake. She sighs. That probably means about six hours of sleep, but oh well.
When she shuffles out of her room, she hears voices, but doesn't even try to comprehend them yet. Approaching the coffee pot, she discovers a little note on a yellow star sticky note. "Just push on," says the note, and she does so, hearing the machine whir and drip immediately. She smiles, and glances over her shoulder to thank Rachel, to find her speaking animatedly to her laptop.
Rachel glances up and exclaims, "Good morning, Santana! Or, good afternoon! Good morning?"
She chuckles, "Morning, Berry. Thanks for the coffee."
Rachel lifts her laptop and spins it around, "Say hi to Quinn!"
Santana blinks at the image of a smiling Quinn taking up Rachel's laptop screen, "Morning, Q," she manages a tired smile.
"Looking a little rough there, San," Quinn smirks, but her tone is gentle, "Rough night?"
"Coulda been worse," Santana shrugs.
"That's good. It's good to see you, even looking like that."
Santana flips her off, which makes Quinn laugh, and Rachel turns the laptop back around to continue chattering away with Quinn. Santana tunes them out as she pours herself some Cheerios—god, she's a walking pun—and shuffles into the living room to turn on her laptop while she waits for her coffee to finish. There's not nearly enough room in the kitchenette for a table, and they've agreed, instead of using up common room space on a dining room table, to generally eat in the living room at the coffee table.
When she sets her breakfast down on the coffee table and really settles on the couch perpendicular to Rachel's armchair to eat it, she can't help but overhear their conversation.
"I've got about a week until orientation, and I'm bored," Rachel complains.
Quinn husks a laugh, "Rachel, how can you be bored in New York?" she asks sarcastically.
Rachel laughs with her (and god, Santana never really noticed that Rachel and Quinn were the giggle queens, but she supposes her caffeine headache makes things like that stand out), and trills, "but that's just it! There's so much that it's overwhelming! And I don't want to do it all alone."
A hum of agreement, then Quinn suggests, "You could watch Buffy? I know we got through a bit of it together this summer, but I'm on the fifth season now, and I promise it's actually really good. And actually," Quinn's voice gets louder, "Santana should really watch it, too!"
Santana glances up and Rachel tilts her laptop so that she and Quinn regard each other again. Santana attempts an eyebrow raise at Quinn, who mirrors it, and scoffs, "Okay, what the fuck? Why in the world would a geeky show from the 90s interest me?"
Quinn smirks, "Other than the fact that it's actually really smart and entertaining, there's the whole fact that it's apparently like a big part of lesbian culture."
"And how would you know that?" Santana teases, just to watch Quinn be uncomfortable.
To her disappointment, Quinn just rolls her eyes and says sarcastically, "The internet holds a lot of information."
She snorts, "Okay, the fact that you're looking at Buffy Tumblrs or whatever is fucking hilarious. Please, do let Yale try to make you geekier. But whatever. I guess I'll give it a shot. Sarah Michelle Gellar was kinda hot back then, right? That was like Cruel Intentions era?"
It's Quinn's turn to snort, "You watched Cruel Intentions?"
"Brittany wanted to watch the girl kiss!" Santana defends, "Kind of a formative moment for me," she adds petulantly, subsequently cursing herself for being tired enough to admit that.
"Whatever," Quinn's got a glint in her eye, and Santana's relieved that she lets it go, and then turns her head, as if trying to see Rachel, "So, Rach, there you go! Netflix with Santana!"
Rachel turns the laptop back around the beam at Quinn. "A wonderful idea! We'll just have to figure out a way to comfortably watch on my laptop."
"Okay, Berry," Santana interrupts, "Much as I sort of like you, and much as I'm willing to give this show a shot, I'm just gonna go ahead and say that I'm not down with snuggling on the couch and watching Buffy with you."
Rachel sighs and addresses Quinn, "See what I have to live with?"
Quinn chuckles, "Don't worry, Rachel. I've got a plan."
Spending breakfast chatting with her roommate and their apparently mutual best friend did improve Santana's mood, and she went to work feeling much more confident, despite her lack of sleep. Santana's work is definitely not fun, but she pretty much hangs out with Helen for the whole shift, which does help. They haven't talked any more about the innuendo in the truck, but Santana finds herself curious about the other girl anyway.
The week continues along that same vein: Santana wakes up, generally finds Rachel in the living room, they chat a bit, Rachel respectfully waits until Santana is fully awake before practicing her scales in her room. Santana, finding she has little energy or desire to do much else, spends too much time on her laptop, then she and Rachel will throw together something for dinner and eat together before Santana heads off for work. Her schedule seems to be Sunday night through Thursday, which is nice because she'll have the weekend off, sort of. She gets home, often Rachel is just waking up (sometimes she's eating breakfast, sometimes Santana hears the whir of the elliptical in her room).
When Santana wakes up early in the afternoon on Friday, it's because she hears the apartment's buzzer. She groans. That fucker is loud if she can hear it over her air conditioner.
Automatically, she shuffles out of her bedroom, only to find Rachel already speaking into it, and heading out the door. Not sure what else to do, she stands awkwardly by the door until Rachel reappears with a package in her arms, looking puzzled. "It's not from an address I know…do you think it's a mail bomb?"
Santana snorts rudely, "Of course not, Berry. Just open it." She goes to her room and gets one of the box cutters she uses at work and hands it to Rachel. Rachel opens it very cautiously, and slowly lifts the flaps to reveal a jumble of packing peanuts and a rectangular object, wrapped up in newspaper and plastic bags. She cuts through it and gasps when she pulls out a white object…Santana's eyebrows lift. A Wii?
Rachel meets her eyes, and they regard each other with mirrored bemusement. She reaches into the box and extracts a few other objects, also wrapped up securely, and finally a little envelope. She opens it and clears her throat, reading:
"To Ms. Berry. I've been instructed to inform you that I am sending this as a surprise gift courtesy of your friend Ms. Fabray. I apologize if the package was mysterious or alarming to you. If you have any issues with the system, don't hesitate to have Ms. Fabray contact me."
Rachel looks up at Santana again, this time with her mouth hanging slightly open. She shakes her head and reaches for her phone on the coffee table. Santana moves over to the kitchen to brew coffee, knowing she's irrevocably awake now. She leans against the couch and listens as Rachel speaks to Quinn.
"Quinn, I just got the package," Rachel is speaking softly, "How did you…?" Santana can't quite hear Quinn's response, but Rachel nods very slowly and her face relaxes slightly, "Ooooh. Ebay. Well, that makes the mysterious package a little less ominous. I was wondering how in the world you knew someone in Oregon who was getting rid of a Wii." She pauses, "But why?" Quinn's response makes a wide smile break out onto Rachel's face. "You are literally crazy, Ms. Fabray," she quips lightly, "I can't believe you sometimes. Thank you so much, Quinn."
Catching Santana's curious eye, Rachel tilts her phone to say, "Quinn bought us a Wii so we can watch Netflix together! She promises it wasn't expensive because she bought it used."
"Gee, thanks, Q!" Santana shouts with mock frustration, "Now I don't have any excuse not to watch that damn show!"
This time she does hear Quinn through the phone, "You're welcome, bitch!"
Rachel slides the phone back into place and voices softly, "Seriously, thank you, Quinn. You're…too good to me sometimes."
Santana wanders away to check her coffee. The breathiness in Rachel's voice is almost intimate, and Santana feels like she's intruding on the conversation.
Additional A/N: Chapter titles from Modest Mouse, "Whale Song," Blood Diamonds, "Dreams," The Velvet Underground, "Venus in Furs" (DeVotchKa does a very different, but interesting, cover), The Reverend Peyton's Big Damn Band, "Walmart Killed The Country Store," Gem Club, "Breakers," and The Xx, "Crystalized."
I've also gone back a made a few small edits, mostly formatting, but one being the mention of the beginning date of Quinn's school. Fact-checking is important and I'm embarrassed to admit I forgot to check the start of Yale's term (in my defense, I wrote that back in June when I was on vacation somewhere without internet, and went with what I knew of other Ivy League school terms as a starting point; by the time it came to post, I'd forgotten all about the need to fact check it).