November 13th

Hey Soldier Pierce,

I have no idea why I agreed to this. Actually, I do. It's because my best friend, who is in charge of this whole project, forced me to.

But, well, I thought I would give it a shot.

I'm Santana Lopez, 20 years old, born and raised in Lima, Ohio. I moved to NY with my aforementioned best friend, her boy toy, and my mom after graduating high school. I study at NYU and work part-time at this sort of karaoke restaurant.

I have no idea what to write or if you'll even reply, but yeah…if you'd like a pen pal, my address is on the back of the envelope.

Santana

"Santana!"

"Maybe she'll leave me alone if I ignore her," Santana grumbles to herself as she drops her head onto the bar of the restaurant she works at.

"I heard that, bitch." Quinn Fabray rolls her eyes and hits the back of Santana's head.

"Fuck, Fabray," she yelps, rubbing the back of her head. "What do you want? I'm on my break."

"Have you written the soldier assigned to you yet?" Quinn asks as she leans against the bar. "And I know you're on your break. We work together, you idiot."

"If I tell you that I did, will you leave me alone?"

"Nope," Quinn tells her with a chuckle. "When did you?"

"A week or two ago, but no reply, so I'm pretty sure they aren't interested."

"They're on a mission. It'll take a while for them to reply," Quinn informs her. "What'd you write?"

"None of your business," Santana replies with a glare. "Now, can you please leave me alone, so I can enjoy my break?"

"What crawled up your ass and died, Satan?" Mercedes Jones walks over to them after singing a song with one of their other coworkers.

"Nothing," Santana grumbles, dropping her head back onto the bar.

Quinn turns to Mercedes and rolls her eyes. "Dani." She knows that name will explain everything.

"What that bitch do now?" Mercedes asks, anger filling her voice.

"Can we not discuss my relationship at work?" Santana interjects, lifting her head to glare at them before Quinn can reply. "It doesn't matter. Go do your job, and please, just let me enjoy the last five minutes of my break in peace!"

After they both walk off, Santana's phone buzzes in the pocket of her apron. Unlocking it, she sees two messages — one from her mom, and one from Dani.

From Mami: Hola mi corazón. I am off to work and will probably come home late, but you received a letter from the army. Do I need to kick your ass?

She chuckles and shakes her head, quickly typing out a reply.

To Mami: Hola mami. No ass kicking needed. It's probably from my pen pal, from that project Q started at NYU. Don't worry, I'm not about to leave you here to have all the fun without me. See you tomorrow. Don't work too much, alright? Te amo.

Then, she clicks on the message Dani sent her and groans.

From Dani: Santana, I know your mom is working tonight. I expect you at my apartment after work. We're going on a date.

To Dani: No. Like I said yesterday, Dani, we're done. Go find yourself someone else to boss around.

Turning in her chair, she glances around and calls Quinn over when she spots her standing near the stage. "Q, I'm calling it quits for today. Dani's shift starts in a few, and I don't want to see her face."

Quinn nods her head and sighs. "I'll cover for you if Gunther asks. I'm glad you finally kicked her ass to the curb."

"Well, more like she kicked mine to the curb, since it was her apartment. I'm just glad Mami moved here."

"You know your mami wouldn't mind you living with her forever." Quinn chuckles. "Anyone watching you two interact would think you're lifelong best friends."

"We are," Santana tells her with a grin. "She's the first person I tell everything, followed by you and Puck." She slides off her bar stool and kisses her best friend's cheek. "Thank you for covering for me. Mami's at work until tomorrow morning, so feel free to come over with your idiot when you get off work."

"Movie night?"

"Definitely. See you tonight, Q." Santana shoulders her purse, then looks at Mercedes as she walks past them. "Yo, Aretha."

"What do you want, Satan?" Mercedes fires back immediately with a teasing grin. They both laugh as Quinn rolls her eyes.

"Movie night at the house tonight?"

"Hell yeah. Count me in, girls," Mercedes cheers. "I'll bring the snacks."

"Puck and I will bring drinks," Quinn adds.

Santana nods her head and smiles. "I'll order pizza. See you all tonight."

After hugging them, she walks out of the restaurant and quickly lifts her hand to hail a cab. She sighs in relief as one stops in front of her and slides in, telling the driver her address. Then, she leans back in the seat and pulls out her phone to show the cab driver that she isn't interested in small talk, smiling as she sees another text from her mami.

From Mami: Thank God. As much as I love you, I don't think I would follow you to the desert, mija. I brought the letter up to your room. I'm off work this weekend, so how about a mami/daughter day this Saturday?

To Mami: Thank you! Q, Puck, and Cedes are coming over tonight, but definitely yes to mami/daughter day this weekend. I miss those. Just let me know what movie you want to watch, and I'll make an appointment for some pampering beforehand. Te amo, mami.

As the car stops, Santana looks up from her phone, thanks the driver and hands him his money, slides out of the car, and jogs up the steps to her house. After kicking off her shoes, she drops her keys in the bowl beside the door and sprints up the stairs to her room. She unbuttons the red shirt she wears to work and shrugs it off, hanging it over the back of her desk chair.

She leans down as she spots the navy green envelope placed on her desk, raising an eyebrow as she reads the girly, loopy cursive. "I guess you're either a girl or 100 percent gay, Soldier Pierce," she mutters to herself as she throws on a red tank top and black yoga pants.

Grabbing the envelope off her desk, she dives into her bed and slowly opens it while reclining back against her pillows.

November 20th

Hello Santana (or Miss (Mrs?) Lopez? Whatever you prefer),

Why are you doing this if you feel forced into it? I would've just flipped my best friend off and told him to go to hell — well, maybe not, since that would mean suffering the desert without his annoying ass.

Santana laughs at that and shakes her head. "Okay, definitely a girl."

Anyways, thank you for your letter. Even if you feel forced, reading it brought me a lot of joy, and even through that short letter, I can tell that you have a lot of sass.

My name is Brittany Susan Pierce. I am a Corporal of the US Army, but you already know that part. I am 23 years old, born and raised in New York.

The restaurant you mentioned in your letter, do you mean the one owned by Gunther? If so, tell that jackass that B and Sam send their love.

As she reads her boss's name, Santana raises an eyebrow and tilts her head with a frown. "Huh, small world."

If not, forget I said that. Like I mentioned before, it was a joy to read your letter, and it definitely distracted me from the heat here.

I have no idea what else to write, so I'll just tell you about my best friend (no, not the annoying one I mentioned in the beginning). My best furry friend goes by the name Blast. He's a German Shepherd, and I've had him under my wing since I came back from a month-long leave about two or three years ago. He's the best at spotting danger and has saved my life more than once.

Anyways, how do you like NYU? Are they still making mistakes because they don't know that some names are unisex?

"She went to NYU? The heck?" Santana breathes out in shock.

Would you like to tell me more about yourself?

Well, I think this is it. If you're up for writing some more, I would like to hear from you. If not, well, that won't be a problem either.

Brittany & Blast

"Well," Santana murmurs to herself as she reaches for her notepad and pen, "I guess I found myself a pen pal."