Santana Lopez

Santana rolled her eyes disdainfully, turning her face away from the sobbing young woman in front of her.

"Whatever, Amy," she sighed. "It was never anything serious. You can just leave now, okay?"

"Santana," the other, blonde girl whined the name. "I thought we had something really great going here."

Santana laughed shortly and harshly. "Well then, you must be crazy," she dragged the word out to several syllables. "Come on, it was obvious this was a dead-end relationship."

She walked into the lounge, still talking and wishing her ex would just hurry up and get out. "Hadn't you heard? All of my relationships are dead-ends."

Santana heard the front door creak open and the sound of a suitcase rolling away. Finally, the door slammed shut and the Latina allowed herself a small smirk.

She had moved to Boston after graduating and had just picked up odd jobs, making money where she could. Sometimes Santana was a dance teacher, she sang in smoky bars, once she had even worked as a waitress. Now, however, she had found her true calling.

Santana Lopez was one of the best personal trainers in the city; she was harsh and cruel but she always got results. Santana loved it. Getting paid to shout at people who just wanted to look as hot as she did? Perfection.

She had a roomy apartment and a string of lovers; Santana always meant more to her girlfriends than they did to her. At twenty-five, she felt she ought to be looking to settle down but she just couldn't seem to find anyone.

Others had accused Santana of being a 'soulless harpy, incapable of loving anyone or anything'. This might have unsettled her somewhat if there was any possibility of it being true. Any sane person would be scared if they thought they could never love.

But Santana did love, or she had at least.

She wandered slowly into her kitchen, over to the fridge. There was a dark coloured card stuck there with magnets; brightly coloured silhouettes of dancers covered the cardboard. Santana unpinned it, flipping it over in her hand.

It was an invite to a dance show in LA. It was a mass-printed card, with a stiff impersonal request for the recipient to travel to LA to watch this dance troupe perform. The show was that weekend.

Santana had actually received the card last month, not intending to go to the show at all, but was still reluctant to throw the invite away entirely. She scuffed her toe against the pedal of the trash can; it was going in the bin once and for all.

If Brittany Pierce thought she could just chuck Santana a stupid, impersonal invite to see her show and expect her to come running, across the whole country, then Brittany fucking Pierce could think again.

At the start of their senior year at McKinley, Santana had been so sure they'd be together. They were soul mates, they loved each other! After all the emotional turmoil Santana had been through in trying to accept her sexuality, she was finally ready to come out with Brittany by her side.

Which was why seeing Britt go back to that cripple had hurt her so much. The blonde had seemed to think that Santana was content just to know that her love was returned, that Santana would just sit around and wait while Brittany had her way with whoever she damn well wanted.

The next few months that followed the reunion of Brittany and Artie were… rough. Santana went 'off the rails' a bit, or so her parents said. Her bitchiness increased tenfold, anyone who dared to even breathe incorrectly around Santana would be subjected to a terrifying, screaming rant.

She tore people down. In those few months, she became more feared than Sue. There was a rumour that even the infamous cheerleading coach avoided Santana, scared of her vicious mood swings.

However, after four months of this rage and soul-destroying pain that Santana had felt, she somehow managed to resign herself to a life without Brittany. She sobbed until she felt empty when she realised that they would never be together but after that she kept her head down and just concentrated on getting decent grades, returning to her normal and merely snarky self.

Santana had realised, as she sobbed her hurt away, that they were not soul mates and that her love was not requited. There was no way Brittany could return her feelings in the same way, otherwise they would already be together. Santana could not bear to be with anyone other than Britt, who obviously didn't feel the same way.

So she had to forget about Brittany who could clearly not give Santana the love she needed. That was what she told herself, anyway.

Her hand was over the trash can, about to drop the card when she noticed something suspicious. Santana straightened up and lay the invite on the counter top.

On the front of the black card was a message. It was written in blue biro and was, therefore, almost invisible. Santana peered closer and felt her heart skip a beat as she deciphered the note.

I really hope you can make it my show, San. I know it's a long way but I really miss you! Love from your Britt Britt xxxx

Within half an hour Santana was packed and ready for a trip to LA. The airplane tickets she'd managed to procure were horribly close to the toilets, cramped and squeezed right next to a large family party but she didn't care.

Brittany missed her. Suddenly all her teenage emotions came flooding back to her; butterflies in the pit of her stomach, a heart aching need to see her best friend even if that's all she could ever be to Santana.

When the plane finally reached LA, it was the day of the show. Santana felt as nervous as if she was the one performing that evening.

She tried to drag out even the smallest of acts: unpacking, showering, dressing, in an attempt to make the day pass quicker. None of them worked. After half an hour of simply staring at the walls before realising it was still only one in the afternoon, Santana decided to do some sight-seeing.

She had never seen the city of LA before and she was pretty impressed. It was much more modern, Santana felt. Time passed much quicker as the former-Cheerio wandered round the town, taking in the atmosphere of the place and looking out, in vain, for glimpses of TV stars.

Eventually, she settled down in a Starbucks, sipping her latte contently. Santana doubted anything would come of this dance show; she probably wouldn't even get to speak to Brittany. However, maybe it was time for a change in Santana's life?

LA seemed like a lively place and there would always be a market for personal trainers here. Perhaps it was time for Santana to settle down somewhere, but somewhere away from Massachusetts…

Finally, six o'clock arrived. Santana had dressed carefully and her make-up was perfect – just in case. By the time she got there, a queue had formed outside the doors of the theatre where the performance was being held. Santana fingered her invite nervously as the crowd inched forwards.

Finally her card was stamped and she was let into the foyer to wait until the start of the show. Other people had congregated into groups, family of the dancers and friends who had come to see the performance together. Santana stood alone at the edge of the room by a corridor leading into the depths of the theatre.

A man with a video camera was wandering through the crowd, filming the masses of people waiting in the theatre. His lens swung in Santana's direction, she prepared to look away and bat off his questions when she realised he was filming someone in the corridor behind her.

Some of the dancers had left their changing rooms and were huddled in the hallway, there was obviously some sort of access to the stage there. A few of the girls were waving to loved ones down in the foyer before filtering through a door and out of sight.

Santana gripped the side of the wall unthinkingly, that familiar adolescent fluttering in her stomach again. She missed her so much; she had underestimated just how much one small glimpse of Brittany would mean to her.

Another set of girls appeared, giggling with one another. One heart-stopping figure turned her head to scan the crowds, obviously looking for someone. She was in a fluorescent pink top, bright blue shorts and grey leggings. She was wearing purple arm-warmers too, the familiar gesture made Santana's smile grow even wider. Brittany's hair, blonde as ever, was pulled into a tight ponytail, flicking as she turned her head.

Her smile as she finally saw Santana, hovering nervously at the corner with her hands gripping the wall, was radiant. Britt waved enthusiastically and blew her best friend a kiss before disappearing backstage.

The show passed in a blur for Santana, only one figure stood out to her. Her heart felt overwhelmingly full of love again; she'd felt so empty since senior year, this new overload of emotion was strange to her.

Santana stepped out of the theatre, blinking in the dusky light after spending two hours in the darkness of the building. She watched as people she assumed were family of the dancers headed over to a stage door. The Latina was about to stride over too when her attention was diverted as she noticed a person watching her from the opposite side of the street.

Without pausing to think, Santana's feet were already moving towards Brittany, also trying to close the distance between them. They stopped two metres apart.

"Britt Britt…"

Brittany bit her lip before breaking into a teary smile. "I knew you'd come, San. I've missed you so much! It hurt even more than the time I had to go and see that misogynist…"

Santana sniffed and laughed quietly. "I missed you more."

"No, San, you don't understand. I think I realised something because I miss you so much. See, I miss you a lot more than I miss anyone else; more than Artie and even more than Mr Schue.

"I think it's because I don't like being away from you, San, which is because I want to be with you."

Santana looked at Brittany directly for the first time in seven years; Brittany stared right back, both of them communicating the things they'd never been able to convey properly out loud.

And neither of them broke that eye-contact until the moment their lips touched. The Kiss they had both been waiting for all their lives.

It didn't disappoint.

A/N: Britana is endgame, okay? RIB I'M TALKING TO YOU.

I think that might be all the students I'm going to do! If you have any requests, feel free to let me know when you review - because, obviously, you're going to review, right?

I may do a catch-up on Will, so look out for that.

Elle xox