A/N: I don't own Glee nor the characters within. This is a switched!New Directions fic. So far I've only decided on Rachel and Santana, but it very well may be that I decide to keep all of the switches. We'll see.

Also, this is g!peen (seeing as this was inspired by a gif set on tumblr where it's nerd!Santana assuring goth!Rachel that she still has use of her penis). So if you don't like it, you can easily hit the back button. Thank you.

This is rated M because eventually this story will include 'adult stuff', and I don't want to bother having to upgrade the rating when it does happen. Anyway, on with the prologue~

Santana first noticed the goth girl the first week of freshman year. They shared a couple of classes, as well as her locker wasn't very far from Santana's, and it hadn't taken Santana very long to start following her with her eyes. Streaks of blue in her already fairly dark brown hair, heavy makeup around her eyes and a love of black and white clothing, she was different than any of the girls that had attended Santana's junior high.

Her name was Rachel Berry, and Santana fell hard.

The only thing left she had to figure out was how to do the first step: make contact. Because everything seemed stupid or pathetic or, honestly, creepy. And Santana didn't want to scare Rachel. Even if she wore the dark clothes and the dark makeup, it didn't mean that she was really a vampire or a worshipper of the dark arts. That was one of the things Santana was interested to find out about her, anyway.

The fifth time she had to speed up to avoid getting pushed aside by one of the jocks, unable to miss catching a face full of purple slushie, finally provided her with the perfect idea. So, blowing sodden bangs away from her glasses and scraping ice from her eyes, Santana turned towards the nearest bathroom, and planned how to put it into motion.

Two days later, she had finally decided it was time. Adjusting her glasses and smoothing her bangs with the tips of her fingers because she knew the palm of her bike gloves would only roughen them up, Santana took a deep breath and started wheeling her way down the hall. Making sure she wasn't going too fast, she slammed her hand down onto a wheel of her wheelchair as she let out a noise of surprise. Having successfully made it seem like she was swerving out of the way of someone, she came to an abrupt stop right in front of Rachel. "I'm sorry about that," she grimaced heavily, glaring at a poster across the hall behind her before turning back to meet wide black eyelined eyes, "But some of those jerks don't look down."

Rachel studied her, and Santana sat up straight, sucking in her stomach for better effect, trying to look innocent as she smoothed her expression into an apologetic, hopeful smile.

"Okay. Fine." Dark eyelashes closed as Rachel blinked, turning back to her locker before slanting her eyes back at Santana, "Are you all right?"

Santana nodded. "Are you? I didn't hit you, right?"

Pulling out a history textbook, Rachel shook her head, pushing blue-streaked hair behind her ear. She frowned. "You're… Santana, right?"

Rachel knew who she was. Santana grinned. "I am." Sticking her hand out, she held her breath; she knew that sometimes her gloves put a person off, but Rachel had often worn her own style of gloves so…

Rachel took her hand. "I'm Rachel," she shook firmly, shortly, smiling slightly, letting go and finishing zipping up her backpack, slinging it onto her back. Once done, she gazed at Santana neutrally, head tilted.

Santana stared back at her. Now that she was in Rachel's physical presence, her heart had sped up, and she didn't know quite what to say. But she had to do something to chase away the beginnings of awkwardness. Wait… Didn't she and Rachel have the next class together?

They did. Santana adjusted her glasses again. "So…" she started, lifting her shoulders, "Want to start making our way to class?"

"History?" Rachel asked, her dark lips pursing. Then, after Santana's nod, she shrugged, the ghost of a smile turning her lips up, "Sure."

Unlocking her wheels, Santana grinned up at her. Waiting for a pause in the traffic flow, she rolled out into the hallway, having to suppress an even sillier grin when Rachel joined her.

Though she knew it was too soon to offer Rachel a ride, Santana hoped it would happen. Someday. She really, really hoped it happened someday. And she really, really hoped that that someday was sooner, not later.

Because if Rachel could accept her wheelchair, she could accept the other thing… Right?