Somewhere in Brooklyn

A/N: Hello! This is my first attempt at a Brittana story.

Back story: Title inspired by the Bruno Mars' song - Somewhere in Brooklyn but has zero to do with the actual lyrical content of that song lol. The song just paints this mysterious, whimsical, almost magical picture of the borough and I just thought it would be a great back drop and starting point to a Future!Brittana story.

Main Characters: Brittana, Mercedes, and Quinn / Minor Characters: Kurt / Original Characters: You're just gonna have to read and meet them! I have a few incredible personalities planned. Keep an opened mind!

Rated M: Language & Themes

Disclaimers: I don't own Glee or the Glee characters, just my own original characters :)

Prologue

Santana sat in her small office staring at the same contract, seemingly it felt like for hours. Reading terms like The artist agrees to the following conditions and Contract will be voided upon. Her eyes hurt and she had the biggest headache. It was Friday afternoon, she didn't have plans like other professionals her age. Some super hip bar was out of the question. Her face grossly contorted with the thought - a bar would be full of those damn dirty hipsters anyway. The thought made her headache worsen, oh how she hated hipsters. They were everywhere in her small Brooklyn neighborhood, an influx in the last few years, as they tried to escape the high rent in neighboring townships. How dare they think they could turn her neighborhood into the next 'cultural hipster fad'.

She sighed and began to soften at the thought of actually being home. The thought of going home to her. She relished in the thought of walking up the stoop of their cozy, Brooklyn brownstone, opening the door, and being met by the most amazing smell of one of Brittany's amazing meals. Santana subconsciously breathed in, a goofy-love drunk smile adorned her face. She looked down at a framed picture next to her MacBook and couldn't help but smile. A picture of her and her wife at Coney Island from a little over a year ago. Brittany had wiped some of her ice cream cone on Santana's nose and cheek, then proceeded to lick it off while snapping a picture. Santana laughed at her own scrunched up, grossed-out face as her wife's tongue licked the ice cream off. Staring at the picture also brought on a small pang of sadness at the realization of happier times; a simpler time, a time before all this stress...

One Year Ago

"Oh, babe, we cannot leave without a jumbo bag of cotton candy and salt water taffy!" Brittany exclaimed as she pulled her wife down the famous Coney Island boardwalk.

"Britt hold on, I need to finish wiping off this sticky film you left on my face," Santana half laughed as she brought a wet wipe to her cheek.

"Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it," Brittany winked. "If you're really good, maybe later we could have some more ice cream play... privately," she let the last word linger as she playfully bit her bottom lip.

"Somehow that isn't turning me on at the moment baby," Santana rolled her eyes. "It's sticky... and it melts. Do you know what a milk product will do to our mattress if it gets in?... No me gusta mama!"

"Ok, well, what if I throw in the black silk restraints?" Brittany stalked her hands down her wife's arms seductively.

Santana was done for. The black restraints were Brittany's new obsession at the moment, and therefore Santana's too. She would sneak-attack her with them at any given moment, and Santana wasn't complaining. It amazed her the amount of household objects and furniture that you could be tied to or against.

"Oh baby, you can throw in sprinkles all I care... as long as you throw in the silk restraints!" Santana added a playful slap to her wife's ass.

The two walked in a confident silence down the boardwalk, not really having to say much, and just enjoying the presence of one another. It was an abnormally cool day for July on Coney Island. The salt tinged wind was chill and wispy. Santana couldn't help but to close her eyes tight and try to burn a mental image of her wife with blond locks blowing uncontrollably in the wind; a loose fitting blue-gray tank, cuffed light blue skinny jeans, and a pair of low top white converse. She looked out to the shoreline watching the waves and people. She loved that Brittany was a people watcher. It was an endearing quality. The idea that in an overtly fast and busy world, where human contact was becoming less important, Brittany could take the time to still enjoy people. Who still did that? Lord knows Santana didn't care about her fellow stranger. She admired her wife's appreciation of mundane life. She herself hoped to one day be able to enjoy it in the same manner.

Santana couldn't help but let her thoughts stray back to how far they had come in the last few years...

After high school, came college. Santana, Brittany, and Mercedes decided to make the move to New York together. It was exciting times for the three when they found out they all got into New York based schools; Santana at NYU, Brittany at Julliard, and Mercedes at Tisch School of the Arts. Thoughts back to their tiny cramped, two-bedroom apartment in midtown. Santana holding in a smile in remembering all the times they tried to fit in quickies between classes or before Mercedes got home, only to be caught countless times by Mercedes on the kitchen floor, table, or counter - "Oh Hell to the NO!" still ringing in her ears sometimes. Upon graduation, they didn't want to waste one more second not being married. Brittany got a job as part of the touring ensemble in the Broadway musical, 'Book of Mormon.' The tour was to take her from LA to London and in between. Santana got into Princeton Law, but instead decided on the less prestigious Brooklyn Law School wanting to stay in New York and close to Brittany. The wedding was simple, at the Justice of the Peace. Both sets of parents flew in for the weekend; Mercedes, Quinn, a few of Santana's lawyer friends, and Britt's dance friends in attendance. Simply put - the best day of their lives! Soon after, Brittany left on tour, for what seemed like a lifetime.

Santana and Mercedes moved into a brownstone in Bushwick, Brooklyn. She thought back to how easy it was to fit into the predominately Puerto Rican and Dominican neighborhood. How she talked the asking price down by convincing the land lord she was his great niece from family back home in the Dominican Republic. Mercedes just told her he liked her boobs and totally didn't believe her. She didn't care, a three-bedroom brownstone at that rate? She would wear pushup bras 'all' day long. That was a hard time for Santana attending Brooklyn Law and studying all the time. She missed her wife every minute of everyday. They Skyped, talked on the phone, text; they even dabbled in phone sex and 'sexting' when extra horny. However, it just wasn't the same as actually having her wife there. And just as soon as Britt returned from her stint on 'Book of Mormon' she got offered at pretty huge part in the touring 'Memphis' ensemble. Brittany told her she would turn it down, no way she could take another year of not being in constant contact with Santana. But Santana couldn't let her pass it up. It was her dream. She wanted to be selfish, but she just couldn't when it came to Brittany.

One year later, Santana was surprised when at her law school graduation Brittany dropped the bomb on her that she wouldn't be touring anymore. After two years she had her fill of the life. She was secretly glad Britt had made the decision for her. Santana did not want her to leave again either, but at the same time was not ready to bring it up. She was ecstatic when Britt said she wanted to settle down, teach dance, and get out of the daily grind that is 'New York theater.' It was weird, at first, both of them living together again. They had been married two years but hadn't yet lived together as a married couple. Mercedes moved out to make it easier on them. It was like they were getting to know each other all over again. Sounds silly, but Britt's touring really did take a toll on the couple. Santana was in the middle of a paid internship at Warner Music Group as an associate entertainment lawyer. The two decided a long time ago, in order to combat the new found awkwardness in their marriage, they would try to get out every Saturday morning, and enjoy a brunch or lunch while exploring a new part of Brooklyn. A tradition started two years ago; a tradition they still keep going. Today, it's a Saturday morning stroll on the Coney Island boardwalk. Santana suddenly shaken out of her reminiscing at her wife clearing her throat to speak.

"San..." Brittany softly spoke, still keeping her eyes out to the shoreline as the couple stopped in front of a bench on the boardwalk

"Hmm?" Santana brought a few pieces of kettle corn to her mouth looking at her wife.

"I wanted to talk to you about something." Brittany nervously fidgeted with her satchel bag.

"Sure baby, anything." She sat on the bench, Brittany followed.

"Okay, what's up, sweetie?"

"You know I love you right... more than anything in the whole world?" Brittany was beating around the subject.

"Britt, babe you're scaring me." It was Santana's turn to be nervous. "Is it about your doctor's appointment last week? Oh my god is it cancer?"

"What? Baby, NO... oh my god! Really, that's where your mind goes... really?"

"Not funny, Britt! What's up then?" Santana aspirated, a little embarrassed now.

"It wasn't that kind of doctor's appointment San."

"Oookay..." Santana knitted her brows together, now totally lost.

"Love, you're gonna have to give me more than that."

"San, it was an OB/GYN appointment." Brittany finally let it out almost like she was relieving herself of monumentally heavy information.

"Baby, I love you... but I don't really wanna hear about your pap smear while I'm trying to enjoy a beautiful day on Coney with you," Santana smirked continuing to attack her kettle corn.

"I wanna have a baby!" Britt slapped a hand over mouth almost like she had just let out a government secret, and she would be arrested right then and there by the CIA.

Santana just sat there honest to god dumbfounded. They hadn't talked about kids since college. Even then, it was totally farfetched and usually a fleeting conversation before dozing off to sleep. Santana never took the baby-naming conversations seriously either. It just was out of sight out of mind. When they first got married Brittany left for two years. Now, Santana was working almost sixty hour weeks at Warner Music Group and Brittany teaches dance at a performing arts high school. Where the fuck would they fit in a baby? She knew she had to pick her words carefully here, not to upset her wife.

"San... say something?" Brittany was pleading, not wanting to be left hanging.

"Uh... um... a baby?" Is all she could squeak out. Her wife just nodding to reaffirm what they were talking about.

"So, this doctor's appointment you had last week. Was it like to check your 'lady parts' to make sure you could like... have a baby?" Santana was gaining confidence, now that the shock had wore off a bit.

"Mmhm!"

"Love, I know I should have told you!" Brittany felt the need to defend herself now. "But I have been thinking about this for a long time, and I wasn't sure how to tell you yet. And I wanted to have all the information and stats before approaching you, because you're a lawyer and don't agree to anything without researching or fact/stat checking, and I just wanted to be one step ahead of you..."

She ended her huge run on sentence with huff. Santana couldn't help but be totally amused and more in love. How could she not want to have a child with this woman? She made her mind up in that instant. As Brittany opened her mouth in hopes of further defending herself, she was cut off.

"And-" Brittany started.

"Let's do it!" Santana cut her off. "Let's freaking do it, baby!"

"Yeah? Santana are you sure?," Brittany asked a little skeptical, like she was checking that her wife just wasn't having some sort of nervous breakdown.

"Brittany, I'm sure." Santana seemed to curve her enthusiasm sensing she was scaring her wife as she took her hands in hers. "Look, we're both about to be twenty-six, married four years, successful professionals... we can totally do this sweetheart!"

"Really? That's what I was thinking too!" It was Brittany's turn to get excited and freak out now. "Oh my god San, I have sooo much information for you! And we can call Dr. Beckett tomorrow and make an appointment so she can fill you in on any questions you might have! There's information on donors, sperm banks, and types of insemination! We can do it at home if we want, as long as we keep the sperm warm or something like that-"

"Whoa, whoa... babe, baby slow down!" Santana gestured with her hands for her wife to calm herself.

"First thing's first, Britt. What did Dr. Beckett say... y'know... about your 'lady parts'?" Santana waved her hands exaggeratedly towards her wife's crotch.

A mega watt smile beamed across Brittany's face and Santana couldn't help but take note of how angelic she looked in that moment. She swore the sky opened up for her.

"She said everything was perfect and looked good... if we wanted to start trying."

Santana looked down at her wife's hands in hers as she lightly bounced them, contemplating for a beat. Seemed like a lifetime to Brittany as she waited for her gorgeous wife to say something.

"Well then... we should call Dr. Beckett tomorrow and get this show on the road, huh?" Santana grinned.

Santana thought back to that moment with a dazed smile. They hugged, kissed, and cuddled on that Coney Island bench for hours it seemed. On the subway home, Brittany told her everything she researched and what Dr. Beckett had told her. She remembered how they ripped their clothes off as soon as the front door shut. Making passionate love for the rest of the night almost as if they thought they were actually making a baby. It was heated, tender, and gentle with a lot of eye contact. Both women in-tuned with the understanding they were making a life-altering decision.

Those early days were filled with so much hope and excitement. They would be absolutely giddy over doctor appointments and sperm bank catalogs. Santana wanted to be involved to the point the doctor even allowed her to administer Britt's hormone shots. They settled on a live donor who matched Santana's features and personality as closely as possible. They settled on a home insemination. The guy would do his business at the clinic, then the clinic would in turn call them for the pick up. Frankly, the whole thing semi-disturbed Santana, but it's what her wife wanted - she couldn't refuse. She made sure that sperm got there on time and at the right temperature every time. She was sure not one of those little bastards died on her watch.

They tried the whole home insemination for about four months, and nothing ever took. Santana tried to stay strong for her wife, but she could see Britt was wavering a bit. More tests were taken and the couple decided to try their luck at IVF with the same donor. Santana was starting to feel sorry for this guy - was he tired of jacking off, Jesus Christ! She was worried more at this point for her wife; IVF was so intrusive and could be painful Dr. Beckett had warned.

There is no words to describe the feeling when they found out they were pregnant after the first IVF treatment. It was unreal, she remembered. They posted the positive blood test on the fridge and circled their first wellness appointment on the calender. Sadly, they never made their first wellness appointment. Britt had called her at work in a panic because she was spotting. Santana wanted to freak out too, but realized she had to be strong and reassured her wife the doctor told them spotting was normal the first few weeks. When Santana got home she found her wife curled up in a fetal position on the bed experience severe cramps, and the realization that this something was really wrong.

Santana cringed at the memories of those hotly emotional few weeks that followed the miscarriage. She just found herself holding her wife night after night as Brittany cried. Not knowing what to say. She found she was more helpful just being silent, conveying her emotions and love through simple-placed kisses to the brow, temple, and shoulder; Nuzzling her nose into her wife's hair ad neck cooing words of love and encouragement when seemed fit. That's about all she could do - that's about all Brittany would accept.

Soon after the heavy emotion had subsided a bit, Brittany floated the idea of becoming foster parents. Santana didn't know what to think of the idea; She wasn't totally for it, but she wasn't totally against it either. She understood it was something Brittany needed at the moment. If Britt and her couldn't have their own baby, then they would get as much practice in with somebody's child. The certification process was actually pretty simple; Almost as if the state of New York had depressingly low standards for foster parents. The whole process kind of upset Santana in that way. Seeing how the social worker kind of just gave them a pass and didn't really look engaged at their home visit/inspection. On weekends they took the certification classes, and put in their hours. Brittany was so excited when they passed with flying colors, and became officially certified. Even though Santana wasn't as excited as her wife, it was just good to see Brittany smiling and happy about something again. However, She really wasn't happy when Brittany decided to put them down as a 'no preference' when it came to the age, gender, race, sexual orientation, mental/medical condition for a child. Santana just didn't think they were ready for that type of surprise.

As they waited for their first official call that a child needed a home, Brittany surprised Santana with the idea of wanting to try again for a baby. It had been a couple of months and Santana hadn't brought it up, but was glad her wife was ready to give it another go. They decided to keep it stress free this time; That meant no needles, drugs, or hospitals. They would go back to the same donor, clinic, and home insemination process. Before every insemination they repeated the motto - what will be, will be. Their last insemination taking place approximately seventeen days ago. Britt was three days late, but to be honest, Santana was void of any expectations or care. It was all just becoming too stressful again and she could sense Brittany slipping with every negative pregnancy test taken over the last few months. They had just recently made the decision that this would be their last try for awhile. Brittany agreeing to give her mind and body a rest. Santana promising to use her lawyer skills to look into adoption. She cringed at the thought of yet another process where they could be disappointed.

Santana rubbed the bridge of her nose in hopes of relieving her tension headache that was building. She took a swig of her latte - her third of the day, and refocused her attention back on her work. She was about to start typing when her iPhone lit up with an incoming call from - Britt (Panda), she swiped the call button and answered.

"Hey, Britt-Britt! What does my love need?"

"Hey, honey, I'm not interrupting or bothering you in the middle of some big lawyer meeting am I?"

"Britt, I don't have those big lawyer meetings anymore remember? I'm the only lawyer here!" Santana replied, almost scoffing at her wife generalizing all lawyers as being too busy or in meetings.

The truth, after they started trying for another baby, Santana just couldn't do the sixty and seventy hour weeks anymore. It was awesome working at a prestigious record company like WMG, but she had to choose. Turns out, it's hard to make a baby when you can't actually be there to pick up the sperm, and shoot jizz up your wife! She chose the jizz - she chose her wife.

Santana couldn't believe her luck when Mercedes put in a good word for her at a small up and coming indie label she worked at in Brooklyn. Ramen Records was indeed looking for an entrainment lawyer with half the workload and less hours, compared to WMG. Money was slightly less, but Santana didn't care as long as she could make rent, splurge a little on her wife, and pay down those damn student loans. Teo Lee, the founder/owner, was the most passionate, little Chinese man Santana ever met. In his early thirties, native of Brooklyn, the son of Chinese immigrants; Teo had made quick millions producing beats for the likes of JayZ, Lil' Wayne, and Kanye West, to name a few. He also won a few Grammy's along the way. Teo decided he wanted to put down some roots. He cut ties with the big business companies and studios, and decided to go the indie route with Ramen Records. It was a small studio, small group of interns-producers-talent-vocal scout/coaches; And one lonely entertainment lawyer to handle, what Teo called, the boring shit. It could get boring and she could feel left out sometimes, as Santana could always hear all the fun the others were having making music down the hall. But Santana loved the atmosphere Teo created. He was passionate - no fucking sellout.

"Okay good, not interrupting then! Baby, I got some huge news!" Brittany sounded giddy, something in her voice Santana hadn't heard in months since they started trying for another baby.

"O-okay," Santana, was cautious, yet bubbling with a tinge of excitement - Had she taken the pregnancy test already? They usually did it together, but what if she just had a feeling and went ahead and did it? Maybe she couldn't keep it in, and called Santana to tell her the happy news? She was probably getting ahead of herself.

"I got a call from NYPD's 83rd Precinct, after they received a call from Social Services. They have a kid in their custody who might be a perfect fit for us."

"Whoa, wait, Britt! Are we sure we wanna take a kid who's some sort of delinquent, sitting in some jail right now?" Santana knew her wife had put down 'no preference' but this was taking it a little far, didn't she think?

"Santana Lopez-Pierce! You didn't even hear all the facts, and you're already judging?" Britt brought down the banhammer.

"I'm sorry honey, but-"

"No, buts... we're taking her in! I already agreed! I was just calling you to let you know!" She was livid now.

"What! You didn't even consult with me first Britt! We're a married couple, a partnership... we're supposed to freaking consult!" Santana felt the need to be forceful back, and stand up for herself as having an actual say - She wasn't whipped.

"I know San, you're absolutely right. I should have called you first, but I kind of... was put on the spot. They needed to know right then and there if we could take her. They said we were like the only couple on the list that fit the criteria." Brittany was pleading again, Santana could all but see the famous pout through the phone.

"Britt... c'mon, baby, that's what scares me now! How bad is this kid if no one wants her, and they have to contact the newest-no-experienced foster parents, who by the way, are probably last on the damn list?"

"Santana, STOP JUDGING! It isn't because no one wants her, she doesn't have any local family. She goes to a local high school in Bed-Stuy. They wanted to keep her close and give her some normality. You know, actually give her a chance at succeeding! We all should be applauding the system for that! Don't you think, Santana?" Brittany was getting smart now.

"Ay dios mio, don't you dare Britt! Don't you dare try to guilt-trip me! And did I hear Bed-Stuy, high school? A fucking teenager? Nuh-uh, Britt, we can't do a teenager from Bed-Stuy, are you crazy? Sounds like she gots razor blades in her hair!" Santana was trying to make it a safety issue now - it was her last fleeting hope.

"Honey, her mom was arrested in a drug sting at some crack house." Brittany was making an attempt to cool the argument now with some somberness. "They found her selling and smoking crack when they busted in the house. The cop couldn't legally give the information, but he all but insinuated she had a huge rap sheet, and would probably be going to prison for a long time. Her father's already doing life up at Rikers Island. They said she would only need to be with us short term. They were looking into family she might have in Queens."

Santana wasn't gonna lie, she felt a pang of sadness for this kid - Somebody was dealt a shit sandwich. She didn't want to seem like she totally didn't have a heart. Britt made her want to be a better person everyday and she wanted to show it off. Now was a good time as any.

"Ugh, Britt... o-okay." Santana gave in with a final huff, and slumped over her desk, hand rubbing her brow.

"San, thank you sweetheart! I don't care what Quinn and Mercedes say, babe; you aren't Mrs. Grumpy Gills all the time!"

"Yeah, well Quinn still is a psychotic bitch most the time, and Wheezy is still a walking BET rerun of The Parkers most days," Santana was pouting now. "Some facts first, Britt? Her name, age, race?"

"Oh of course, but it totally doesn't matter, right Santana?" Brittany was probing, she hated Santana's tendencies to judge and only see what was on the surface of a person.

"Of course, love. I just wanna build a mental image before we meet her is all. When are we exactly meeting her anyway?"

"Her name is Roxanna Ortiz, fifteen years old, born and raised in Bed-Stuy. Oh, and she's Hispanic – as if it wasn't obvious to her wife by the last name, Santana let it slide. I don't want to stereotype, but sounds like Puerto Rican, Dominican, or maybe both... like you!" Brittany now was attempting to make her wife feel some sort of bond with the poor bastard child.

"And we're meeting her tomorrow at the latest... uh... maybe even tonight..." Brittany seemed to mumble that last fact hoping Santana wouldn't catch it.

"TONIGHT?"

"I said maybe tonight, San! The cop said it all depended on how fast Social Services got some paperwork done. But definitely by tomorrow evening."

"Wha... but... it's our cuddle night Brittany! We can actually stay up late, get off our diets, and eat junk food, get our sweet lady kisses on!" Brittany swore she could sense tears building in her wife's eyes over the phone.

"Okay, you know what... I'm not gonna cry. I'm a big girl, grownup, professional, bad-ass lawyer from Lima Heights Adjacent! I agreed to be a foster parent with you. I took those damn, long-tedious, fucking mind-numbing tests to be certified! I can totally do this Britt... right?" Santana was starting to second guess herself.

They had been trying to have a baby, and even got certified to be foster parents. Too involved in the processes, Santana hadn't taken the time to actually think about being a parent. - Could she do this... a teenager, a girl... a fucking teenage girl, with all her fucking teenage girl angst... from fucking Bed-Stuy?

"Right, Santana... we can do this."

"And remember it's just short term... a few weeks to about three months tops they said. She has family, they just have to find them, and set everything up. And, don't worry, nothing has to really change. I figure she's a big girl, and can catch the train back to Bed-Stuy and her high school everyday, then find her way back to Bushwick. Not like we have an infant here who needs our constant attention. She's like a self sustained package already!"

Santana had to admit she was a little more at ease now. Her wife really was magic like that.

"We have to move some stuff around though... t-to make room in Wheezy's old room. We've kind of been using it as a storage remember?" Santana was thinking logistics now. If this girl was gonna stay she owed it to her to at least make it comfortable, right?

"Already on it honey! As soon as I hung up with the police I started moving boxes down to our outside storage, and changed the bed sheets."

"You should have waited for me Brittany," Santana whined. "You shouldn't be moving heavy boxes up and down our stoop if you might be... preg-"

Santana caught herself, it was a touchy subject bringing up a possible baby before they took an actual pregnancy test, especially now that this was going to be their last time for awhile. It was like a superstition thing between the two of them at this point. Just shoot the jizz up there and don't discuss it for another fourteen to sixteen days. Just wait to see if her period came, or they get a negative test. Can't blame her for being so pessimistic, it was the. exact. same. numbing pattern for months.

"They were just boxes, San... most of them filled with old clothes. I could do that, no problem or strain." Brittany said, ignoring the slip, and elephant in the room.

"So... you need me to hit a CVS and pick one up before I get home?"

"Pick what up?"

"Britt... c'mon, babe. We have to address this. You're three days late, sweetheart." Santana was begging her wife to join reality.

"We have to take the test sooner or later. At least for our own peace of mind."

"Or we can wait to see if I get my period. I've been late before, Santana..." Britt trailed off, the disappointment becoming too much.

"You're right, you have been late before, two weeks late to be exact. We waited and waited, got our hopes up, and it did nothing but make that negative result hurt even more like a bitch... remember? Let's just take it now and get it over with?" She soften the last words in hopes of convincing her wife.

"We'll talk about it when you get home, I promise honey. I'm making your Friday favorite! We eat, discuss it, and get ready to welcome Roxanna?" Brittany made it all but sound like a capital idea.

"Sure babe, as long as we discuss it... it's all I ask."

"Done! Oh, and don't worry about picking a test up, we have an extra one in the medicine cabinet." Santana couldn't help but notice she sounded more at ease talking about it.

"I'm gonna have to let you go Panda, needs to finish going over this contract before filing it for Teo at the courthouse." Santana suddenly remembering she had an actual job to do besides arguing with her gorgeous wife over the phone.

"Ok Pup, your Friday Favorite dinner and gorgeous wife will patiently be waiting for you to get home!" Santana chuckled at their ridiculous nicknames of 'Panda and Pup' they had been calling each other since junior high school.

"Can't wait, see you in a few. I'll text you when I get on and off the train."

"Ok, bye, baby!"

"Bye." Santana finished the conversation with a swipe of the end call button.

End Note: Chapter 1 next! Basically a continuation from the Prologue!

Random Note: Bed-Stuy is Brooklyn native slang for Bedford-Stuyvesant a notoriously rough township in central Brooklyn that borders Bushwick, Brooklyn.