Let me preface this by saying that I know stories like this have been done before. Overdone, maybe. But I wanted to give it a try, because these characters really are wonderful. This is a Glee AU that is sort of an "after high school" look at some of our beloved characters. Some are in college, some are not. Some are friends, some are not. The central pairings of this story are same-sex pairings (Faberry, Brittana, Klaine), so if you have a problem with that for whatever reason, this story is not for you. It will be rated "M" in later chapters, but not right away - I'll warn you when it gets to that stuff. That being said, I hope you enjoy the new world I've created. Glee isn't mine, never has been, and likely never will be. I just like playing in other people's sandboxes. With that said, enjoy, and I'd love to hear what you think!
Chapter One:
Two years ago...
"Fabray!"
Quinn finished brushing her hair and looked around the room. It was a room that had only been hers for about six months - since her parents tossed her out on the street like yesterday's garbage. Six months ago, this had been the guest room at the Lopez's house. A room that had been offered to her many times before at sleepovers and other various occasions, but was never used, as she normally ended up spending her time in Santana's room instead. Now, it was hers, but it never felt like hers. Her things, some of which hadn't even been unpacked even after the time that had passed, had their places within the room; her clothes occupied the drawers and the closet. Her scent was on the sheets, and she slept within the comfortable double bed every night, but she still didn't see this room as truly hers.
She tucked her hairbrush into the red duffel bag that she had once used for Cheerios! and zipped it up. Again, she glanced around the room. All her things that had piled in once again were prepared, packed away, and headed to a new destination. Perhaps the next place would feel more like home.
"Fabray, get your ass down here before I spout some gray hair and arthritis kicks in!"
Quinn chuckled; at least some things would never change.
"I'll be down in a second, Santana!"
Quinn took one last look and threw the duffel bag over her shoulder. The Lopez's guest room had been restored to its former glory before she had become their refugee and set up shop within the four walls. It was odd for her to think that she had been alive for nineteen years, had lived under her parents' roof for eighteen, and had managed to sum up that entire time period into four boxes over the course of two days. Brittany and Santana had recruited Puck and Sam to move her into the Lopez's house after they graciously offered her sanctuary, and over the course of six months, she had downsized her entire existence into the duffel bag in her hands along with two suitcases and a backpack that were already stowed away in the back of Santana's Jeep.
Although some things never changed, most of it did, and that was what was most unsettling of all her memories.
Quinn walked out of the spare bedroom and shut the door behind her. She took a moment to pause and appreciate the symbolism – something she used to know nothing about. Since her world had changed, she grew as a person, and with that growth came the ability to appreciate the small things, and to take very little, if anything, for granted.
As she exited down the hallway and reached the stairs, she caught the dark gaze of her best friend staring back at her. She was tapping her foot impatiently, but a smirk that lifted half of her lips let Quinn know she was amused, not irritated.
"I thought you were gonna take another thirty fucking years," Santana remarked.
"Sorry," Quinn said softly once her feet left the steps. "It's just a lot, you know?"
Santana nodded and pursed her lips.
"I know."
"I'm not backing down, though. No way. I'm ready for this," Quinn assured her friend, placing a hand on the other girl's shoulder. "We've already wasted too much of our years and talent in this town. I want more."
"Yeah, me too. I just never thought we'd be leaving. Places like Lima suck you in forever, unless you've got what it takes. We were good for high school, Q – for McKinley, but out there? I'm still not sure," Santana confessed. Quinn took in the Latina's facial expressions, taut with insecurity, but still laced with a quiet passion that made her who she was.
"That's why we're doing this together. I won't leave you alone," Quinn promised.
"I've had my years of being a shitty friend," Santana reminded her. Quinn laughed quietly, the memories flooding back. Santana had always been a spitfire. She was driven, hot-headed, and no-nonsense. To high school students, and to teenagers, that could be easily misconstrued. But now, Quinn saw those things, even though her words could be edged with a bitter sword, as some of her finest qualities.
"We've both made mistakes," Quinn replied. "At least you didn't get pregnant."
Santana laughed so hard her shoulders shook; they could laugh about this now.
"Which was a damn miracle, if you ask me."
"We made it through, though. We survived, and now we're finally getting the hell out of Lima," Quinn said. Santana nodded, but Quinn watched the color fade slightly from her eyes as they grew distant, likely lost to memories that were far from happy.
"Something like that, Q. Something like that," Santana replied. There was a brief pause that passed between them, and she shook her head as if to rid her head of cobwebs. Then, a smile crossed her features, as if nothing happened, and dark eyes settled on Quinn once more. They dropped to the duffel bag on her shoulder. "Is that finally the last of your shit, Fabray? I was starting to wonder if you were planning on sneaking the kitchen sink into my ride."
"Yeah, that's the last of it."
"Cool. Just throw it in the back with the rest. I'm going to put the spare key back in the hiding spot. Mom and dad made sure I knew to to tell you goodbye for them, like I'd forget. They're sorry they couldn't be here... they're gonna miss you, too, you know," Santana said, rambling nervously. That was the only time she showed weakness; when her thoughts became too much, and she had to deal with emotion instead. Santana was good at running from emotions, at sweeping them under the rug, but Quinn knew better than most that you couldn't run forever. Eventually, everything catches up.
"Everything's going to work out, Santana. You just have to believe," Quinn said.
Inside, her insides churned. She was trying to believe in herself. For both of them. But, she knew Santana was concerned about a lot of things, and even though this change of pace and fresh start was her idea originally, Quinn also knew that she was using it to run away. Again. So she had to be the strong one, even though inside, she was scared beyond comprehension.
"Do you believe, Quinn?"
"Of course I believe," Quinn said. Her lips curled into a smile, knowing that Santana needed the extra boost. "I came from a weird Christian family, remember?"
Santana laughed, "Yeah, good point. Let's get going, Q. Got places to go, shit to do."
Santana brushed by Quinn, heading off to another part of the house, and Quinn walked out the door. She opened the back hatch of Santana's Jeep and threw the duffel bag in with the rest of their things. Santana's suitcases were piled neatly on the bottom, and hers collected on top and across the sides. The red stuck out against the black, tan, and dark brown colors of the rest of their luggage; a beacon and reminder that although things were once familiar, everything was about to change.
Quinn smiled and shut the hatch with a solid thump. The Ohio breeze washed over her, ruffling her honey-blonde hair for what she hoped would be one of the last times.
It would be a change, she thought, but if everything went according to plan, and with a little luck, the change would be worth it. Things would finally get better.
Present Day...
"Santana!" Quinn called, cursing quietly as she tripped over a lone boot that had been left in the entrance of their apartment. Santana's parents had co-signed for this place, which was in the heart of Greenwich Village, and while Santana and Quinn both worked hard to make ends meet, the Lopez family had been wonderful in helping them keep afloat. It wasn't cramped, like most people thought of when New York City apartments came to mind. It was, however, simple – a two bedroom, one bathroom flat with a small living room, attached kitchen, and a little bit of wiggle room in the main entrance. The view, however, was its crowning feature, and Quinn loved to sit in the windowsill of her bedroom, watching the city move beneath her. Even though the traffic was loud on some clear, still nights, she was happy to be out in the world. This had been her home for two years, and although the years hadn't been easy, and sometimes, she felt like giving up, she had stayed strong and made it through the worst. She had turned her life around, made something of herself, and while she would be lying if she said that she would have seen her life going in the direction it had, she was glad it went the way it did.
Quinn kicked the boot aside, listening to the clunky heel clatter against their wood flooring, and waited for a response. Santana was still mobilizing at 1:30 in the afternoon, having worked another late shift at the bar where she was employed as a bartender. It wasn't a professional career, but it was in a competitive field that Santana enjoyed. The hours took a heavy toll on her, but the tips were good and helped keep extra money in their pockets. Santana had said on more than one occasion that tips alone made the fact that her sleep schedule was horribly out of whack worth it.
"Q, what are you yelling about in there?" Santana called, her voice groggy and raspy, still caught in the space between awake and asleep.
"Your fucking boot in the walkway," Quinn yelled back. "I kicked it under the table, when you go looking for it later, by the way. And you're welcome!"
"For what?"
"For keeping this place clean, because God knows you certainly won't," Quinn said under her breath. Santana was a good roommate; she cooked dinners when they were too broke for take-out, she was considerate of Quinn's needs and basic wants, and tried to abide by the agreement they set in place about not bringing too many strangers into the apartment. That was a work in progress. Santana was neat and tidy most of the time, but when her work schedule became hectic, it slipped, and Quinn was fairly good about picking up the pieces without too much complaint. Most of the time.
"Quinn?" Santana called, her voice less distant when she appeared in the doorway that led down the hall to their bedrooms. She was wearing tiny boxer shorts and an indecently short tank top that was riding up her tanned midsection. The years had been good to them both, but especially good to the Latina, and Quinn fought the urge to check out her best friend, because this was Santana, for Christ's sake. They were both "team Rainbow," as the dark-haired girl liked to say, but Santana was still leaps and bounds more comfortable with her sexuality than Quinn. Quinn was more of a work in progress in that respect.
"Yeah?"
"Sorry about the mess. I'll have my shit tidied by the time you get home from work, okay?" Santana said, offering the blonde a soft smile.
"You're working late again, it's all right," Quinn replied, uncrossing her arms and releasing the tension she felt moments before in the form of a soft sigh.
"Gotta pay the bills, mama," Santana said, laughing quietly.
"At least we've got a roof over our heads," Quinn replied.
"Amen," Santana agreed.
"Breakfast?" Quinn asked, motioning toward the kitchen with her head.
"As much as I love it, a girl can't live off whiskey and cigarette smoke. Although I did talk this guy out of a few nachos last night before closing," Santana said. "Those were fucking epic!"
"We need to go grocery shopping," Quinn said. "I think we're down to condiments and a few Hot Pockets in the freezer. Maybe some yogurt, but it might be past the pull date."
"Eh, won't kill us," Santana shrugged. "You said something about breakfast?"
Quinn's smile widened.
"I may have acquired some doughnuts after my morning run."
Santana's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.
"You sly little fox, what did you do?"
Quinn walked toward the kitchen, the other girl hot on her heels. She sat at the counter and motioned to the white box that was filled with four pastries, still warm and permeating the apartment with their sweet scent.
"I went to get a cup of coffee after mile three, because I found a couple washed dollar bills in the pocket of my sweatpants, and there was a girl who was working at the cafe," Quinn explained. Santana reached into the box and grabbed a chocolate glazed doughnut, taking a massive bite and motioning with her hand for Quinn to continue. Quinn grabbed a doughnut of her own and placed it neatly on a napkin, then tore a piece off and ate it delicately, taking the time to savor the rich frosting before continuing. "She was cute. I ended up with doughnuts. The end."
Santana swallowed hard, pausing before taking another bite.
"You flirted with a girl to get doughnuts?"
Quinn took another bite of pastry and smiled before wiping her mouth with the napkin.
"Come on, Santana – I haven't lost my Cheerio charm completely, have I?"
"No, no... you're just... what did we decide on?"
"One foot out of the closet?" Quinn suggested.
"Halfway to gay," Santana replied.
"No, I'm definitely gay, just not completely... ready to be waving a rainbow flag around and doing the whole relationship with a girl thing. I was terrible enough at relationships with guys, and I didn't even want them."
"I can't judge. I don't do relationships, either," Santana said.
"But you're out, loud, and proud to anyone who cares to ask," Quinn said. Santana took another large bite of doughnut, then smirked.
"And most people who don't care to ask," she added. "But that's me, Q. I went through my phase of being unsure and not ready in high school. I did my stint in the closet. I'm helping you get through your phase. Baby steps, and one day, all of this can be yours."
Santana made a sweeping gesture with her hands, and Quinn laughed.
"Random sex and late nights at a bar? Oh, be still my heart," Quinn replied.
"Don't knock it 'till you've tried it, Q. At least I'm getting some."
Quinn threw a hand up in protest.
"I don't need... sex... to make me happy. I have... work, and you, and today I have doughnuts! I'm getting along just fine," the blonde said confidently, though her eyes said otherwise.
"We're living the dream, Q," Santana mused, reaching in for her second doughnut while Quinn finished off her first. They sat in easy silence for a few moments before Quinn stretched her arms, working out the stiffness she felt after her normal exercise regiment.
"Did you need the shower first?" Quinn asked.
"Nope, but if you take too long, and I have to pee, I'll just run the water until you get the hell out," Santana replied with a quirky grin.
"My best friend, Santana Lopez – always a kind soul," Quinn replied sarcastically.
"I'll sue whoever told you that, Fabray. Now get your ass in the shower 'fores my body decides your time is up," Santana replied. Quinn stood up and began to walk toward the shower, but was stopped by a loud, distinct clearing of the throat. She turned, and caught Santana's ear to ear grin. "Thanks for breakfast."
"Anytime, San. Anytime."
A/N: Thanks for giving this story a try (if you've made it this far). If you didn't totally hate it, I'd love to know what you think!