Disclaimer: I own nothing

A/N: This is my first go at writing anything in a very long time but it's summer so I thought I'd give it a shot. The M rating is mainly for language in the first few chapters but that will change as things progress. This is also unbeta'd so any and all mistakes are my own.

Prologue

"Thank fucking God," I whisper under my breath to my best friend Quinn as Mr. Schuester writes goodbye across the white board in obnoxiously large letters.

She nudges my side, trying to get my to shut up, but I know she's just as relieved as I am. Watching the teacher scribble a new word across that board is something we've had to watch week after week since joining the band of singing losers three years ago and I'm sure we're both ready to move on from it.

I know I am.

"Santana, Quinn. Is there something you'd like to share with the group?" the teacher asks, the words falling out of his mouth so simply it's like a second nature to him. What? This class can get pretty boring.

"Sorry, Mr. Schue. It won't happen again," Quinn apologizes. Even with the year coming to a close, Quinn still has this insane need to have every teacher's approval. Bitch always makes me look bad.

"Yeah, sorry," I mumble under my breath.

Senior year at McKinley is coming to a close, with less than a month left of classes before I can be done with this place for good. After another crushing loss at regionals, undoubtedly due to Mr. Schue's terrible organization and planning skills, he's decided to cut the year short so us seniors could have some extra time to study.

"Mr. Schue, I have some ideas I would like to run my you," an enthusiastic voice from the front row beams and I instinctively let out a loud groan.

Rachel Berry. Glee club captain. Biggest slushie target in all of McKinley High history. Loudest and most annoying person alive despite being barely 5 ft tall. Those are just a few of the nicer words I would use to describe her. Thank god this is the last week I'll ever have to deal with her in such close proximity.

In terms of the McKinley High cast system, high school is a pretty simple thing to explain. The jocks, the cheerleaders, and the rich kids are at the top of the social ladder with the band nerds and mathletes at the bottom. Being co-captain of the nationally ranked cheerleading team, the Cheerios, one would assume I've had the ideal high school experience and I suppose, to an extent, they would be right.

High school has been good to me, as good as anything from this awkward in between period of our lives can be considered. Along with Quinn, I run this school. Since freshman year, when we first walked through those doors, sporting red and white cheerleading uniforms, people knew our standing and we didn't even have to earn their respect, the outfit demanded it. While others were forced to sit through high school initiations and daily slushie facials, Quinn and I were treated like royalty. No one dared to fuck with us.

That unearned respect turned out to be extremely useful the following year when Quinn had the brilliant idea that we should join glee club, the least popular club in the entire school, in an attempt to get her ex-boyfriend, Finn, back from the hobbit. The plan didn't work out but even after their relationship ended for the final time, we still remained part of the club.

Despite my initial hatred towards the club, I admittedly found myself enjoying it as the weeks past. Singing is something I've always loved to do, usually not in public, but I love it nonetheless. The people aren't even as bad as I thought. Though I wouldn't exactly call them friends, Aretha is pretty kick ass and Porcelain has quite a sense of humor once you get to know him.

"If I could have your attention for just one moment," Rachel announces from the front of the room. "We will each be given the chance to sing a solo this week, considering very well may be the last chance for many of you to sing in front of an audience. I, on the other hand, have been accepted into the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts where…"

Then Rachel Berry comes along, making me realize just how happy I am to finally be done with this club. After three years of dealing with her, I've finally mastered the art of tuning her out completely. A skill that's come much too late, but still appreciated.

There is one other person in the club who tends to get on my nerves. Brittany Pierce. Blonde, dancer, and Rachel's best friend. Just as Rachel had a strike against her because she was the reason I was forced to join the club, Brittany's strike was due to her friendship with Rachel. To be honest, I'm not sure if I even really know her enough to hate her, maybe it's hate by association. All I know is that there is seldom a day when I have to listen to the two of them that I don't want to kill myself.

There is also the fact that she's a flaming lesbian and never lets anyone forget that fact. It all came to face a few years back when some our school's resident stalker and pervert caught her and another girl making out at the movies and posted it on his blog. By 9am the next morning, the entire student body had heard the news. The other girl was so embarrassed, she transferred schools leaving Brittany to face the music herself.

It's not that I'm homophobic or anything, that's not why she annoys me. It's the fact that I should haven't have to change my route to class so I don't have to watch her making out with someone, or being all over them. Whether it's a friend or girlfriend or whatever else, Brittany doesn't seem able to grasp the simple concept that not everyone wants to see that kind of stuff. It's uncomfortable.

…

During this final month, all seniors have been signed up for mandatory sessions with Ms. Pillsbury, the school guidance councilor. I don't really understand what they were trying to accomplish with the end of the year so close. Everyone who wants to get out of this cow town has already applied to schools and, for those who don't, the Lima Bean is always looking for new faces to serve coffee to high schoolers.

Opening the door to Ms. Pillsbury's office, I plop down in front on the redhead and stare at her expectantly. Be as cooperative as possible so I can get the hell out of her office before the fumes from the cleaning supplies gets to my head is my only goal.

"So, Santana," she starts in her squeaky voice that I can't help but cringe at, "the last time I we spoke your plan was to go to NYU, have you heard back from them yet?"

"Yeah. Last month I got my letter," I reply, "I got in."

The squeak that falls from her lips is seriously one I could have lived without hearing but her enthusiasm is actually kind of nice. I know a lot of the teachers don't really expect much from me so it's nice to finally prove some of them wrong. Not that I hold any of their opinions very highly.

"Yeah," I hum, not really sure of what else to say while biting my lip to ensure she doesn't see the smile threatening to form on my lips. I may be proud of it but I have no intention of letting her see that happiness.

"Have you decided what you would like to study? They have a pretty great music program there if that was something you would like to pursue, I know how much you love singing in glee club. Mr. Schuester has mentioned that you are one of the best singers they have, if only you would apply yourself more and-"

"Law," I cut her off, not entirely sure why I said it. Sure, I've considered it before, seeing as my mom is one of the most well known lawyers in all of Ohio. But it's not exactly something I ever pictured myself doing. I also hate to think that her and Mr. Schue talk about me outside of class, creepy. "Or maybe English," I add, "not music though.

"Well those are both great options and just by looking at your grades I think you could excel in whichever you choose," she tells me, still flashing that 100 watt smile. How the fuck does she keep that up all day?

"Have you given any though to what you will be doing in terms of living arrangements? You have the dorms as an option as well as off campus living."

Scoffing at the though of living in a 10x10 box with another person, I let her know that I will most definitely be searching for an apartment to live in. When she asks about the possibility of a roommate, I shrug. Why does she care who I live with, or where I live at all for that matter?

When the bell rings, indicating the end of lunch as well as our session, I hurry out of the office and down the hall to where I spot a few other cheerleaders standing. I may have missed the chance to boss them around for the hour but time is quickly ticking by. I need to get as much use out of them as possible before graduation.

My short journey is interrupted, however, when I feel something collide with my shoulder. Not expecting the contact, my body falls forward towards the ground.

"Fuck," I scream as I brace myself for the impact. But it never comes. Instead, two strong hands wrap around my waist, helping me back on my feet. Looking up to find their owner, I'm met with the unmistakable blue eyes of on Brittany Pierce and instinctively pushed her arms off of my body.

"Oh my God, Santana, I am so sorry," I hear another voice cry and look down to see Rachel Berry on the ground, scrambling to pick up the few items she must have been carrying. She must have been the thing that banged into me. "Brittany and I were debating whether ballet or contemporary requires the most skill and I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings."

"Whatever, Treasure Trail, just make sure it doesn't happen again," I threaten, adjusting my skirt back to it's proper position. She flinches at the nickname. "Next time imma go all Lima Heights on your ass so you better watch out."

With those words, I leave her and Brittany to clean up the rest of her mess and continue over to my teammates. One of the other girls high-fives me, praising me for my verbal smack down and I smugly accept it. If there is one thing I'm good at, it's putting people in there place. Sometimes that's all people need, a little reminder of where they belong.

…

"Santana," I hear my name being called in that annoyingly squeaky voice and it almost prevents me from turning to face the woman.

Reluctantly I do and I see her walking quickly down the hall towards me, ginger hair flowing behind her. I try to think about what she could possibly want from me but before I can figure it out she's standing in front of me with a freakishly large smile on her face. She must bathe in bleach the smell is so strong.

"Santana," she repeats and I widen my eyes, trying to egg her on. I don't have all day here. "You know when we were talking the other day and you said you were looking for a place to stay once you move away for school?" Pretty sure I didn't say that. But before I have the chance to correct her, she continues. "Well, I think I may have found a place for you. One of the girls I spoke to earlier is looking for a roommate and I suggested you."

My first thought is that she wants to shack me up with Berry so I ask but she assures me that, while Rachel will be in the city, she will be staying in the campus dorms. "Well, who is it then?" I practically demand, growing all the more impatient at her.

"You know her but I don't want you to brush the idea off quite yet," she says, really not making this seem anymore appealing than if I was rooming with the hobbit. "Why don't you stop by my office after school today and we can discuss this more."

The bell rings and the halls quickly become more congested than before with people trying to get to their next class on time. The rush doesn't give me much time to think of a way out of it so I give her a small nod before heading off to class.

...

Trying my best to write the entire encounter off as one of her weird sessions doesn't work and my mind continuously wanders, not wanting to drop the conversation. For the rest of the day, I'm plagued by the thought of who she could possibly be talking about.

By the time glee rolls around, my wandering mind hasn't let up. My list has shorted substantially from earlier when the every girl in the senior class was a viable option. Eliminating people I knew wouldn't be in the city, such as Quinn who's heading to Yale and Mercedes who's convinced she'll make it big out in L.A., along with the skanks and a few select others I know won't be graduating on time, the list has diminished to just under fifty students. Not including those whose names I do not know.

I'm still mentally checking people off the list when Rachel, followed closely by Brittany, enters the choir room and demands the attention of the group. Standing in front of the room, looking much too comfortable up there for any student, she begins rambling on about something that I'm sure she finds very interesting. I, however, do not give a shit and I continue on with my list.

At some point the pair must have seated themselves because Mr. Schuester has taken the floor again, guitar in hand, and is singing some sad song that drones on about going how we will all be forever young or something. I don't know. But Rachel, always one for the dramatics, soon breaks out into tears and starts rambling on about how much she's going to miss us all and that we have to keep in touch. Yeah right. Once I'm out of this town I'm never looking back. Family be damned.

If she ever manages to find me in New York I'll just start walking in the other direction. There should be seas of people to get lost in, right?

Glee finally ends, after one of the longest hours of my life, and I quickly spring out of my chair and down the hall to Ms. Pillsbury's office. As much as I don't want to spend anymore time with her, another minute in that classroom is not an appealing alternative Once I arrive, I slip into the chair as always and breath in that now familiar scent of cleaner. She finishes wiping down her desk before acknowledging my presence, sending me a smile that makes me believe I'm not going to like what she has to say.

"Just give her one more minute and then we can get started," she chirps in response to the eager look on my face.

Wait for who? The girl was coming here? She totally did this to corner me into agreeing to stay with them. What kind of terrible person would I be if I rejected them to their face. Only if she knew me would she have realized this is pointless. I have no conscience.

"Hey Ms. P, sorry I'm late, Rachel got a little emotional in glee so I helped her get cleaned up," I hear coming from the doorway, my head whipping back to look at her so fast that I'm sure I caused some serious damage. The voice belonged to Brittany. The blonde, bubbly sidekick of one Rachel Berry. There is no way I would considering sharing anything, especially a place of living, with her.

Oblivious to my discomfort, she takes a seat in the chair adjacent to mine and offers me a warm smile. I give her a half hearted one in return and, in that moment, I could kill Ms. Pillsbury.

"So ladies," she starts. The smile on her face is quickly wiped away once she sees the scowl plastered on mine. She looks nervously down at her lap before continuing. "After talking to each of you I learned you would both be in New York this September, Santana in need of a place to stay and Brittany, you in need of someone to split the rent with, and I thought you would make good roommates. I'm not sure how well you know each other but you are both in glee club so I figure that's some common ground you can work with. Besides, both Julliard and NYU are very prestigious schools which require a lot of work and dedication so I'm not too sure you guys will ever have time to spend together. I think it's just the perfect opportunity."

"Wait, you're going to Julliard?" I ask, awestruck. Yes, I know the girl can dance but I had no idea she was good enough to pursue it as a career. Damn.

"Yeah, I got a full scholarship for dance," she tells me in a quiet tone that gives me the impression that she's growing uncomfortable in my presence. "Weren't you listening to Rachel in glee? She, like, announced it to the club."

"Nah," I say, shrugging, "I learned to tune her out years ago." At my words, I notice a look of sadness flash across her face and quickly try to fix it. For some reason, I just can't stand seeing the usually so chipper, happy girl, upset. "Congratulations though, you are really good and with a full scholarship I'm obviously not the only one who thinks so."

A wide smile grows on her face and my eyes lock on hers for the second time this week. The smile she gives me was somewhat worth the fact that it practically killed me to dish out a compliment.

"So Santana," Ms. Pillsbury chimes, causing me to jolt up in my chair, breaking eye contact with the other girl. "Do you think that living with Brittany could be something you would consider? It's in a pretty decent part of town and the rent is extremely low for the city. You will have your own room so privacy shouldn't be an issue, it just seems like the perfect set up to me. What do you think?"

Once she finally stops gushing over how perfect the situation is, I actually run her words back through my mind. On paper, it really does seem perfect but I'm not entirely sure how well it would work in practice. Living with this girl who I barely know isn't something that appeals to me in the slightest, but the alternative to living with Brittany is living with someone who was actually a complete stranger and that terrifies me. That alone, however, still isn't enough for me to agree. My father can easily be swayed to pay for me to have my own apartment, though that means living alone in a new city which also terrifies me.

In the midst of my thinking, I feel a hand on my shoulder. Instead of shrugging it off, for some reason I only look to see that it's Brittany's. Since kindergarten we've been in the same school and I don't think we've ever touched. Now, here we are, mere weeks from graduation and she's managed to touch me twice in a week.

"You don't have to say yes, don't feel obligated to just because I'm here. You can take a few days to think about it or you could just say no, I pinky promise I won't be upset," she says in an innocent, calming tone. Removing the hand from my shoulder, she extends her pinky out to me and I take it. I fucking take the pinky. Since when do I take pinkies?

"I'll do it," I blurt out. Where did these words come from and why don't I stop them. "I'll be your roommate."

"Really?" she asks in a hopeful but skeptical tone. I nod and, before I can think, I'm being engulfed in a hug. First pinky linking and then hugs. Why this girl has the power to turn the second in power HBIC into a twelve year old girl is beyond me but then she smiles at me and I forget what I was so upset about.

"Alright then, that's just wonderful!" Ms. Pillsbury says clapping. Truthfully, I'd forgotten she was even there but at the reminder I shoot her another scowl before asking if I can leave. I send Brittany one final smile before getting up and leaving the office.

...

That night, I lay awake in bed trying to come up with a way to get out of this. I manage to come up with a good few excuses, most of them involving faking terminal cancer or a severe fear of taxis which prevent me from moving to the city, but I know I'll never be able to actually go through with them. Brittany just seemed too happy about the whole thing, I can't just disappoint her like that.

...

Three months later as I sit in the back of my parents truck, wedged between stacks of boxes, I can't help but wonder if I made the wrong decision.

There you have it. There will be lots of ups and downs in this story but I promise that Brittana end up together so no worries.

Let me know what you think!