"What the fuck is this?" Santana ducked under the awning of the small shop she knew so well, and pulled her hood down off her head. It was another of the rainy New York days, but she hadn't allowed that to faze her, and diligently carried out her usual morning run without complaint. She pulled her earphones out and took in the sight in front of her; granted, it had been a few weeks since she'd ran this route and last visited, but this was pretty extreme. The coffee shop she stood in front of was usually bright and cheery, if rather vacant, but today was clearly an exception. A big one. The once smart bottle green awning had been rolled up half way and looked tattered, and the large window sticker displaying the shop's name in bright gold letters had been peeled away, leaving nothing but sticky residue on the glass. The usually clean lino-floor was scuffed and marked, covered in a thin layer of dust, and the only familiar sight she saw was that of the cafe's small owner trundling about inside. She stepped forward and knocked her knuckles on the glass, and he came rushing to the door.

"Hey, Santana! Long time, no see. How've you been?" He welcomed her in and she shuddered as she stepped over the threshold

"What's up, Mr Bernstein. I'm clearly better than you are, what the hell happened?" She frowned down at the portly man and he gave a shrug

"Well you know how it is. Business was hardly booming and so...we decided to call it a day!" he walked round behind the countertop to pick up a stack of papers, and it was then that she noticed it had been uprooted from the floor.

"So, you're just leaving? Wow. I mean, you said things weren't going so well but I didn't realise it was this bad. The place looks so...sad." She looked around her with a frown at the blank space. It was only a small place, but usually held a few tables and chairs and some soft furnishings, and as she gazed around she could see the bright spaces where pictures had protected the now-shabby wallpaper from fading in the sunlight.

"Well you know, with a Starbuck's on every corner who needs a poky family-run coffee shop?" I do, Santana thought. She hated going to Starbuck's; their hot chocolate was bitter as hell and they charged you a freaking arm to sit on one of their weirdly shaped armchairs. She'd rather sit in and chat to the Bernstein's than have some acne-ridden lemming get her order wrong then write his number on the paper sleeve. Sadly, she was apparently the only one.

"Well...that sucks. So what are you going to do?" she turned back to the man and leaned her forearms on the counter

"Thinking about the wife on vacation, maybe a cruise. Then you know...quiet life. Open a place in the suburbs instead maybe? A little closer to home" she nodded and smiled

"Sounds delightful. Escaping the city."

He nodded "Damn right" and she grinned

"Well, best of luck to you. I promise if I ever move to the suburbs you'll be my first port of call" he nodded his thanks and she waved goodbye as she stepped back out into the rain. She ran the short distance back to her apartment, and couldn't help but feel pretty disappointed; she had grown fond of the couple and their cafe. It would be a shame to not longer hear the stories of their four children, and she would miss updating them on how work was going. She only had a few friends in the city, and familiar welcoming faces were always a comfort.

She rounded the corner and pulled open the door to her apartment building, shrugging her hood down and shaking off the rain as she started to climb the stairs. She was grateful she had stopped for a break at the coffee shop now, as attempting to climb these stairs after her workout would have probably put her in the hospital. The elevator had been broken for almost two weeks, and no one had made any attempt to fix it, despite many complaints to the landlord. She had attempted to carry four bags of groceries up fourteen flights of stairs the other day, and had collapsed on the tenth floor, leaving her bags and returning to get them on a second trip.

She stepped inside the apartment and sighed with disappointment. She didn't know why she should expect it to be tidy; it certainly wasn't when she left, and magic fairies weren't going to do it for her. But she could but hope. Sheet music, plates, food cartons, clothes and books littered nearly every surface of the living room, and her bedroom wasn't much better. She grimaced as she stared around and bit her lip as she thought about the mess. She had been wondering what to do with her day off. And it would be a waste to spend it laid around doing nothing. She should really sort this mess out instead of lounging in front of the TV or Xbox all day.

Santana sighed before immediately snapping into action. She quickly showered and changed, and then emptied her laundry basket onto her bed. She collected up every scrap of dirty clothing and bundled them all into the washer before grabbing a cloth to wipe down all the sides in her bedroom; she had spilled a glass of juice earlier in the week and it was starting to go sticky. She collected up all of the random crockery that was scattered about and did some mass washing up, before filling two large bags of litter for the trash. Tidying the apartment then morphed into sorting through all of her old clothes and attempting to clear out her wardrobe. This was where Santana met a problem. She had always been a horrific hoarder, and was pretty sure that's why her last girlfriend didn't last long.

Tina had never directly said it was an issue, but when she left a note with the cliché line "It's really not you, it's me" and all of her stuff had been cleared out of Santana's apartment, she guessed there was an underlying issue. She couldn't blame her. Santana was kind of a pig, and Tina was almost obsessively clean and tidy, hence they spent most nights at her place. She felt bad for not being too torn up when Tina left, she would miss the company of course, and Tina was a sweet girl, but it wasn't like she had thought they were going all the way or anything. But she supposed that this was one of those times in life where you "turn over a new leaf" or some stupid phrase; so she accepted it and a single one-night-stand later, she had moved on.

New job, new found singledom, and now she was embracing a new clean and tidy way of living. In fact, this cleaning stuff was so much easier than everyone claimed it to be. Drama queens. She was almost enjoying herself. "Santana Lopez: Domestic Goddess" had a nice ring to it. Maybe while she was at it she could work out how to use that vacuum cleaner she'd had for almost half a year and still not worked out how to use. She had tried, a few times. Once. And failed miserably. But now she was Santana Lopez: Domestic Goddess. And any domestic goddess could use a freaking vacuum. She dragged it out of the cupboard and looked it up and down. Simple, it was just like any other vacuum cleaner. Apart from that tubey bit there. But that probably wasn't necessary yet. And that weird brush thing. And that corrugated twisty thing, what the hell was that for? Okay, well she could ignore that bit for now. She nodded and sank to her knees, unravelling the length of cable from where it was looped, and crawled across to the plug socket, flicking the switch as she did so.

The device whooshed to life and a deafening grinding noise filled the room. She squealed and immediately ripped the plug from the wall. Okay, so...that...happened. She plugged it back in, preparing herself for the din, and stood up, taking the handle of the machine and starting to push. It immediately keeled over sideways and started to pull the leg of her jeans into the bottom. Santana screamed again, and started pushing any button she could find for the off switch. There was a loud thunk and the vacuum suddenly erupted, spewing dust and lint all over the floor. She coughed and spluttered, leaping backwards as her bare feet got covered, and ripped the plug from the wall once again, glaring down at this devil-machine with hatred.

She pulled it back up so it was stood upright, and retreated with her arms against her chest, her mouth twisting in thought as she stared down at the mess on the floor. Maybe "Domestic Goddess" was a little out of reach right now. Santana sighed heavily and gave in, pulling her phone from her pocket, and the voice at the other end answered after only a few rings, "Hello?"

"Hey Hobbit. Listen, you have a vacuum right?"

"Yes..." She drew the word out in anticipation, frowning "Why?"

"Well mine's broken, and I need-"

"You have a vacuum?" the girl sounded sceptical

"-you to come and help me, there's shit all over the floor-"

"I didn't even know you owned a vacuum"

"YOU WOULDN'T THINK SO BY THE STATE OF HER PLACE!" A voice shouted in the background

"-and you have to come clean it up for me. And yes I own a vacuum. Am I on speaker? Coz you can tell Brittany I heard that, and the invite is not extended to her" she kicked the dust off her feet and grimaced as she sat down on the sofa

"Okay, so let me get this straight. Contrary to popular opinion, you do have a vacuum. Something possessed you to attempt to actually use it for the first time in your life, and it's broken?" the sceptical tone was back

"Well no. I know that it must work, seeing as its SUCKING THE LIFE OUT OF ME."

"You have rage issues." Brittany shouted again

"So now you need me to come and help you clean up the mess?" Rachel snorted down the phone as Santana grunted resignedly "Wow. Real badass, there, San. Not spoken to us in weeks and now you come crawling back." She sighed "Okay fine, let me finish eating and we'll be right over."

"I've been really busy! Thanks. BUT DON'T BRING BRITTANY IF SHE'S GONNA BE A LITTLE BITCH" she shouted, and heard the girl giggling at the other end of the phone before Rachel hung up. She stood up again and stared around. She had to admit, everyone was right. Her apartment did look so much better now that it was clean and tidy. Apart from the corner where it looked like a vacuum-shaped world war two bomber had come down in flames. But if she faced the other way it looked great.

Rachel appeared less than half an hour later, with Brittany in tow, and Santana rolled her eyes when she saw her "I knew you'd come too, just to mock me"

"You're damn right. By the way why do you live so high up? Rachel nearly had a stroke by the eighth floor. Woah, did you hire someone to do this?" They stood and took in the sight of the tidy apartment

Rachel narrowed her eyes at Santana "What's happened?"

Santana frowned "Nothing"

"Yes there has. You never clean. You said cleaning is for orphans and maids. What happened?"

"Tina broke up with me. Don't freak out, it's not a big deal! It was like, a couple of weeks ago, she left a note with "blah blah it's not you it's me" so it clearly wasn't her. Anyway, I slept with some ginger chick and I'm over it. I saw her on my way back from work the other day and we're fine, it's all over and I'm good." Rachel moved to place a comforting hand on Santana's shoulder and she slapped it away "Please don't touch me. Trust me, I'm okay with it, it's not like we were gonna get married and have lots of little lesbo babies or something. But I decided enough was enough and I needed to clear out this place. New job, newly single, new clean apartment, you know? And then this monstrocity happened."

Brittany giggled as Rachel stepped over to the vacuum, crouching down on her haunches to look at it with a frown, "So, how is the job anyway?" Brittany jumped onto the couch, settling her self cross-legged and grinning up at the brunette

"It's pretty good, actually. I mean, obviously term just started so I don't really know the kids that well yet but they all seem...okay."

"No trouble-makers?" Brittany quirked an eyebrow at Santana and she rolled her eyes and she perched on the arm of the couch

"Yeah, all the delinquent kids take music. No, there's the occasional blabbermouth but let's face it, no one can be as bad as Berry. And if any tries to backchat me I just tear them down."

"Aren't you supposed to be nice to them?" Rachel chimed in from the corner, where she was plugging the vacuum back into the wall after pressing some buttons and adjusting the settings. "After all, they're young and incredibly susceptible to criticisms and negative attitudes you know"

"You're a negative attitude."

"See, that's why I work with adults. No one can accuse me of, like, poisoning their minds or something" Brittany giggled and Santana slid down onto the sofa next to her, crossing her ankles on the now bare coffee table in front of her, lolling her head to the side to watch the shorter girl in the corner.

Rachel flicked the switch at the socket and tilted the vacuum back, flicking the bottom down to rest on the floor, and cleaning up the mess within minutes. Santana's lip curled and she frowned. Rachel flicked the machine off with a flourish and grinned smugly at Santana "And that's how it's done" she held up a finger pistol and blew it before placing her hand in her pocket, and Santana grimaced

"You make me want to hurl"

"You're welcome, I'm so glad you appreciate the effort I went to, to save you from the big, scary, grown-up world of domesticity" Rachel deadpanned, before bundling the vacuum back into the cupboard, and crossing to join the girls

"Oh, what effort? You were probably just stuffing your face with some weird rabbit food anyway"

"Yeah, to be fair, Rach, we weren't exactly busy" Brittany smirked and Rachel looked offended

"Speak for yourself, while you were-"

"Oh give it a rest!" Santana silenced her with a wave of her hand and Rachel slumped down in the armchair next to her, pouting with her arms tightly folded. They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching some girl on America's Next Top Model crying about how she wanted this so much. They all snickered, and Santana gave a snort of derision before turning her attention to the window, where she saw that it had grown dark, and she frowned "Hey, what time is it?"

Brittany fiddled with the remote before replying, "Nearly five thirty"

"Holy shit. I can't believe how long it took me to clean up this place" Santana pulled a satisfied face as she gazed around at her handiwork

"Yup. You're that disgusting" Rachel nodded, eyes never leaving the TV

"Whatever. I'm starving, you wanna order in?"

"Ooh yeah. Chinese?" Brittany crossed to the open plan kitchen when the two brunette's shrugged, and pulled a menu from a stack on top of the microwave, "You know, I kinda like it here now that it's all organised and I'm not afraid I'll get some sort of illness-"

"Or Tetanus" Rachel grunted

"-or Tetanus"

"Or Lime's Disease"

"-or Lime's Disease"

"Or-"

"Okay I get it! It's clean now, so shut your pie hole, Berry." They handed the menu round, Rachel inspecting it closely, surprisingly impressed at the vegan options, before they all decided and Santana rang the number and ordered.

"What's on tonight, because I am not watching Bianca and Sheryl scream at each other about "yo bizness" all night" Rachel held out her hands and Brittany threw the remote over, laughing when the shorter girl flinched and covered her face with her hands. Santana rolled her eyes, and Rachel flicked through the channels.

Pretty productive day, Santana thought.