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Keep Dreaming of Me

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“Hi.”

Santana Lopez looked up from her cup of coffee. A tall, blond woman was looking down at her, head titled to the right, with an expression Santana couldn’t quite place.

“Hi?” Santana was confused. She was pretty sure she didn’t know the woman standing before her. Not to mention she didn’t appreciate being towered over by people, and this particular person was hovering over her, a bit too close for comfort.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” The stranger pointed at the free chair across from Santana.

“Are you serious?” Incredulous, Santana looked around the Starbucks they were in. Out of all the tables inside the small coffee place, only two of them were occupied, hers included.

“Yeah. Do you mind?”

“Uh. I guess not. Go ahead.”

The woman smiled and sat down. Santana stared at the stranger, wondering how rude it would be if she moved to another table. She could also just exit the coffee place altogether, but what if the woman followed? Really, what were the odds she would do that?

“My name’s Brittany,” the woman said, startling Santana out of her thoughts.

“Oh,” Santana said.

The woman, Brittany, tilted her head to the right again, narrowing her eyes at Santana slightly. She took a sip out of the pink cold drink Santana didn’t noticed she was carrying.

“What’s your name?” Brittany finally asked.

“Why do you wanna know?” Santana countered a bit more aggressively than she’d planned.

She saw Brittany straighten and open her eyes slightly. She looked confused, and maybe a little hurt? Sunlight filtered from the window to the left of their table, shinning Brittany’s profile. Her eyes were a vivid, clear blue, with tiny golden streaks, Santana saw. She was wearing a tight bright red shirt, with sleeves that came down her arms and stopped at her elbows. She also took note as Brittany’s hair, a pure and unadulterated yellow, reflected the sunlight as if absorbing it right out of the air.

“Have we met before?”

“No, we haven’t.” Brittany answered. “Yet.” She shrugged and extended a hand to Santana. “I’m Brittany S. Pierce, and you are…”

“Santana.” Santana made no move to shake Brittany’s hand.

Brittany pursed her lips. Her blue eyes just about sparkled, its golden streaks more pronounced, and Santana suddenly understood what people meant when they said a person was smiling with their eyes.

“You need to shake my hand, Santana. That’s how people meet. Like, officially.”

Santana chuckled, quite not believing she was still participating in this bizarre conversation. She moved forward in her seat slightly and brought her hand up to meet Brittany’s as it hovered between them.

Brittany smiled, showing Santana her perfect white teeth. Santana shook her head at just how unreal the woman in front of her was. This total stranger just sat down in front of her and started a conversation. Who even does that anymore?

Santana felt Brittany squeeze her hand, and she tightened her own, before letting go and sitting back. Brittany placed her hand on the table, hunching her shoulders in a demure manner Santana found rather endearing, considering how forward the blonde’s been since she first approached the table.

“Nice to meet you, Brittany.”

Brittany looked down at her own drink, and Santana watched as her blinding smile slowly morphed into a shy grin.

“Now it’s official.”

 

###

 

“So are you two dating?”

Noah Puckerman, Puck, looked at Santana. They were sitting at their small dining room table having a late lunch, which consisted of frosted flakes, milk and cheese sticks. It’s been three weeks since Santana met Brittany, or “Starbucks” as Puck liked to call her. Santana shrugged but kept her eyes firmly planted on the Kellogg’s box in front of her.

“You’ve been…weird. Like, not evil. It’s creeping me out.” Puck continued, hoping to get a rise out of his friend and roommate. “I just need to know if you’re getting it on, ‘cause that would totally explain why you’re being a freak.”

Santana frowned, but otherwise made no move to acknowledge Puck’s words.

“You know, ‘cause sex is the only reason I’m ok with you not being a bitch anymore. The other day I found you watching TV with that redhead I brought home from Mike’s party. Do you know how many women you haven’t scared away in the past few weeks?” Puck nudged Santana’s foot under the table. “You’re not doing your part, Lopez. You’re totally cramping my style.”

Santana turned to stare Puck dead in the eyes, causing him to shiver a little.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He grabbed his empty cereal bowl and took it into their kitchen, next to the small dining room of their apartment.

“I’m talking about you, waking up every morning and flippin’ your shit when you find hot girls standing in the middle of our kitchen in just their underwear hogging all our food. You always scare them away! And I don’t worry about waking up to find out they stuck around.” Puck walked back to the table and leaned on the chair he'd been sitting on. “It’s our system! I bang them, you scram them. How can you not know this?”

“Are you kidding me?” Santana pointed her spoon at Puck, flicking milk everywhere. “You’ve been bringing random skanks to our place and keeping me up night after night with your disgusting sex noises just so I kick them out the next morning? Are you serious right now?”

Puck stared at Santana with bulging eyes, doing his best not to burst out laughing at her incredulous look.

“I thought you knew!”

“Well, I didn’t fucking know!” Santana pushed her bowl away from her and dropped her head against the table. “God, I swear one of these days I’m gonna cut off your balls and play juggle with them until I’m tired, and then throw them in your face.”

Puck couldn’t help but wince as he clutched his crotch and moved until the chair was between Santana and his lower body.

“Ok then. I’ll just bang them at their place from now on.” Santana groaned. “Now that we’ve settled that,” he said, turning his chair and straddling it. “You and Starbucks. You hit that yet?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Yeah, right.” Puck snorted. He brought his arms up and leaned his chin on them, tipping the chair forward until he was close enough to whisper in Santana’s ear. “Tell Puckerman the truth now Lopez.”

“Urgh.” Santana pushed his face away from her and stood up from the table. “I’m serious, it’s not like that.”

“What do you mean?” He watched as Santana dumped her bowl in the sink and proceeded to flop down on the two-person couch in the living room.

“We’re just friends, Noah.” She placed her arm over her eyes.

“Santana Lopez? Friends with a hot chick? Gimme a break.”

“How do you know she’s hot? You haven’t even met her.”

“No, but I’ve seen you two talking in front of the building through the window. I know she’s smokin’ –”

Santana’s phone started ringing and she recognized Madonna’s “Like a Virgin” as the ringtone. She reached inside her jeans pocket with her arm that wasn’t covering her eyes, throwing the phone at Puck without looking. She heard a panicked “Shit” and a muffled smack and smirked.

“It’s Quinn,” she called out.

Puck looked at the screen before answering.

“Hey Quinn. Yeah, you did call Santana. I just have her phone.”

Santana tuned out the conversation, letting her thoughts of Brittany consume her mind like they’ve been doing since the day they met. Puck was right. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t just friends with Brittany. At least, she didn’t want to be, she wanted so much more than friendship. She sighed. She just wished Brittany would give any sign at wanting something more too.

“Yo, Lopez,” Puck called out.

“Yeah?”

“Quinn wants to know what time we’re meeting her tonight.”

“Aw, crap. I forgot,” Santana pulled herself up. “Uh, like 8?”

She got up and moved to her bedroom, letting Puck finish talking to Quinn. She looked at the clock: 4:42 PM. She flopped face down on her bed, set on taking a nap, ready to dream about a bright-eyed blonde and her blinding smile.