Unconventional Assistance by lizzylizbian has been haunting me since she uploaded the first chapter. Just like everyone else I've been wondering about what the hell Santana must be thinking through all of this. As it turned out, in my head she's a fan of Catull and his sappy love letters to Lesbia.

That being said, you really need to read that story to understand what's going on here. Please find lizzylizbian in the list of my favorite authors in my profile.

Just one more little note: I originally posted this without lizzy's permission, but she's read it and approves (omgomgomgomgomgomgomg). Also, it's just MY version of what Santana might be thinking. I really know as much as you do about what's going on in UA.

The chapter numbers are refering to the chapters of Unconventional Assistance.

Chapter 1:

Dear Brittany,

Today when I came back from my lunch break I found you at your desk, asleep. Your left hand was clutching a cup of coffee and your right hand was lying loosely on the keyboard of your computer.

You obviously had passed out in the middle of something.

At first I considered waking you. The office, Brittany, is no place to take a nap.

But we've been working together for almost a year and by now I know better than misjudging you by thinking of you as lazy. You've proven to be quite the opposite, actually, and I couldn't wish for a better assistant.

I know you've been working late hours almost on a daily basis since you got here. I promise I will make it up to you. I don't want you to think your hard work goes unnoticed. I truly appreciate everything you do.

The last couple of weeks have been exhausting for both of us and when I saw you at your desk with your face completely relaxed over a stack of folders I couldn't help but envy you a little.

The stress doesn't even let me rest properly at night and I'm always tired these days. I wish I'd have just a couple of minutes in which I could kick back and blank out the way you did there.

I couldn't bring myself to blame you.

Besides, you looked so peaceful, so content, how could I ever disturb you?

I will never really tell you this, but at that moment you reminded me of my first girlfriend back in high school.

She was blonde, like you, Brittany, and she was stunning, just like you.

She was a dancer and the physical effort from long hours of practice would often take its toll on her. There were many days where we would go home and she would just make me sit on the bed so she could curl into me. She loved to bury her head in my lap so I could rinse my fingers through her golden locks and listen to her breath.

Sometimes she'd tell me stories she made up as she went. Stories about ducks were always her favorites. She'd just lie there, enjoy my touches and talk herself to sleep.

I loved her so much.

We broke up during our college years. We were young, we needed space. We needed to party and figure ourselves out.

Sometimes she calls me or I call her, like, once a year or so, and we talk and keep each other up to date. After all these years we still mean something to each other.

She's married now and has a beautiful daughter.

They say you never fully get over your first and maybe that is true. I will always love her, probably not in the way she'd need for us to be a couple, though. Not the way I'd need it for us to work out. But my thoughts are often with her. I truly wish for her to be happy.

Today at the office, Brittany, when I saw you lying there over your desk, snoozing, just for a second, I imagined what it would feel like running my fingers through your blonde satin. I imagined the strands of your hair in my palm as I'd gently stroke your head.

And I wondered what you were dreaming about.

I hope you had sweet dreams.

Next time I will have to wake you.

Next time I can't let you sleep.

Next time I can't let my thoughts wander.

I can't let myself fall for you.

My assistant.

- S.

Chapter 2:

Dear Brittany,

It's getting harder and harder not to let myself feel. I'm an actress so fortunately you will never be able to tell from my face, but when I enter the office and find you already sitting at your desk, busy, and you greet me with your perfect smile, I can feel myself break apart.

I haven't had a relationship in quite some time. You out of all people will understand that my job doesn't leave much space for anyone in my life.

Sometimes I wish there was someone waiting for me when I get home, someone who knows exactly what it's like being me, being under the constant unforgiving eye of the press, someone who would just switch off the lights for me and take my head into her hands and kiss the heavy thoughts away.

But I almost forgot what that even feels like. I've always had a lot of suitors, but no one made me feel anything. No one made me want to trust them. Maybe I'm just not meant to be part of a couple.

It is so absurd that I even think about you. What do I know about you anyway? You're always acting so professionally around me. You are probably the only person I know who's never made a move on me.

And you're doing such a wonderful job as my assistant. I've never worked with anyone who managed to always be as discreet and appropriate as you are. I don't want to take advantage of that… of you. I don't want to harm our relationship.

Every time you come to my desk, though, my heart sinks and I turn my head and focus on the paper work in front of me. Because, Brittany, I'm an actress and I could refrain from flushing crimson, I could pretend to not even like you, I could make you believe that you mean nothing to me.

But acting is for the camera. Acting is not lying.

There are no cameras here and I'm used to lie to a lot of people. It's a tactic. That's the reason why I'm being called a heartless bitch. How would they be able to see that I do have a heart?

I don't want to have to lie. Not to you.

So I avoid looking at you instead and something tells me that even the slightest glance at you gives away how deeply in awe I am every time you cross my vision. My eyes betray me where the rest of my face remains unreadable. I can feel it.

I hope you don't know.

I hope you know.

Oh, I don't know.

I hope you want what I can never ask for.

Because I am your boss.

- S.

Dear Brittany,

Did that really happen?

I've been fantasizing about something like this so often that I am now unable to tell if my brain has played a trick on me or if you were really there today.

I cannot count the times that my fingers felt like yours and your scent filled my head. How often has my skin betrayed me and made me believe you were lying on top of me, naked like me, pressed against me?

Oh, the disappointment I had to go through so many nights when my eyes opened and your name was still on my lips, but you weren't there and my hands would come up empty, missing your blonde locks and your strong shoulders.

I know it's wrong to think of you this way, Brittany, and I'm so sorry. I've tried not to let my thoughts wander there. I'm constantly trying to distract myself. Work has always helped before.

But, Brittany, when I'm close and my brain doesn't do what I tell it anymore and even my hands and my limbs and my chest fail to obey, it's your vision that sends me over the edge. I swear I don't do that on purpose. You just appear behind my eyelids and there's nothing I can do about that. I feel so guilty.

I'm lost in you and I'm desperate to find a solution for this dilemma.

And today it was like these dreams of mine had snuck into my office, although my work place has always been safe.

If I didn't know it better I could swear that today before my meeting I found you between my thighs.

It was only the briefest of moments and the second I looked at you my orgasm took over, leaving me no time to decide whether this was a dream or reality. My body knows my succubus so well by now, the picture of you is like an instant trigger.

I could feel you, all of you.

I didn't dare to touch you, being afraid my hands would once again come up empty and I'd wake from my dream that's you. Through your tongue, though, I could feel how real you are. I could feel how much you wanted me, just as much as I want you, Brittany. And just for a second, just for the second when your mouth covered my sex and the flat of your tongue made me see stars, I was certain that you and I could be lovers.

But then you got up and acted as if nothing happened and all of a sudden I wasn't so sure anymore.

You wiped your lip and walked out without a word and you returned to be a succubus, disappearing after getting what she wants.

Maybe I have made it up afterall. Maybe I'm really that desperate.

I'm lost in so many ways. Please just give me a sign.

- S.