Title: A Whole New World (With You) [Part One]
Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce
Rating: R
Length: 5100
Summary: There she goes. The girl Santana Lopez has been hopelessly in love with for the past fifteen years.

Notes: After that picture of Naya was released wearing glasses, everyone's been going on a Superman!Santana thing and so I decided to join in. Except I'm making mine a high school version and a little different. You'll see what I mean soon enough. Also, this is unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own!

There she goes. The girl Santana Lopez has been hopelessly in love with for the past fifteen years.

It's pathetic really, and she does wonder from time to time when the hell her life turned into one huge cliché, but whatever. What's done is done and she's accepted the fact that she's the awkward kid who everyone bumps into but no-one actually sees, and that she's truly, madly, deeply in love with a girl she can never get. Not when she's the school nerd that walks around with her hair in a simply pony and thick, black rimmed glasses perched upon her nose.

And that's something else she's accepted; the fact that she has as much chance of dating Brittany as Puckerman has of getting into Rachel Berry's pants. That girl's been on the virgin train for the most part of high school and it seems since joining the Celibacy Club, Puckerman's chances are just slimming. But whatever, it's entertaining to watch him try and simultaneously make a complete fool out of himself.

Anyway, she's standing by her locker, pretending to mind her own business whilst watching Brittany glide down in hallway with her books clutched to her chest and a smile that could light up the entire town on her face, when she's shoved hard into the locker and all her books fall to the ground.

Sometimes it's really, really difficult for Santana not to use her powers to her own advantage and hypnotize Puckerman into whipping down his trousers in the cafeteria to show how small his dick really is, but she knows all hell would break loose if she used her powers in public, and so she just lets the bullying continue and does absolutely fuck all about it.

So, in the same manner as always, she sighs, nudges her glasses further up her nose and bends down to collect her books; ignoring the burning urge to grab Puckerman, fly him to the Empire State building and hang him off the antennae like a freaking flag just to see how much of a big man he is. But she knows better than that because there's a reason she lives with her grandparents.

Well, they're not really her grandparents but she never knew her real ones. She's not even entirely sure they lived on planet Earth but she doesn't spend too much time dwelling on things she'll never find the answer to. These grandparents were her parents friends. Dearly trusted friends who offered to take Santana on and raise her and she's eternally grateful for that.

See, she was only a little kid when her parents were killed, but even now she remembers it like it was yesterday. She remembers the orange of the fire licking up the building her parents were in, rescuing people they didn't even know. She remembers the way the air smelt that night, like burning wood, burnt flesh and the strong sweetness of fear, and the way her mom screamed her name a second before the last beam fell and the whole building collapsed.

Back then, her parents were known in Chicago as the resident superheroes who always managed to save the day, despite only having one superpower each, and Santana just knows that her mom could have made it out alive of that burning house that night. The woman could run faster than the speed of light and she could have been straight out of there and Santana could have been back in her arms within a second.

Her dad though? She's not so sure. He was stretchier than Mr. Elastic from Fantastic Four, and loved his wife unconditionally; but it seemed they cancelled each other out because after the postmortem came out, it was revealed that her dad covered her mom to protect her but the fire was just too strong, too hot. Too deadly.

He'd died trying to save the person he loved and even if her mother didn't manage to make it out alive, Santana knows she could have but didn't because she wouldn't leave without her husband. That's just how they were. Always a pair and always together.

Santana can't help but feel bitter, though. If people didn't know of her parents superpowers, they'd still be alive today. The screams of those civilians in that burning house wouldn't have perked their senses, and they wouldn't have dropped everything to go and save them.

And that's why Santana's secret is going to remain a secret.

After all, people took advantage of her parents duel powers, and yet here Santana is with so many that she can barely count them on two hands. Her powers range from superhuman speed to X Ray vision and being able to fly to superhuman hearing. And even though she has to practice to get her powers up to par, just like regular people have to train to get their strength up, there's still thousands of people who would kill to get their hands on Santana or take advantage of her.

And to be honest, she just doesn't want that limelight. She just doesn't want that responsibility; not after the tragic end it brought her parents.

It sounds cowardly, but it's not.

Cause for solong she's always been the kid at the front of the class who arrives early to get a good seat. For so long she's always been the last one picked at gym and the one who sits on the field alone, munching on a tuna and cucumber sandwich her grandma made her and reading something written by Emily Bronte. And because of that, she just knows that the second people know about her powers, the second she's everyone's best friend.

And she's just not up for that.

Her thoughts are interrupted by someone knocking heavily into her side, causing her glasses to fall off her face and onto the floor. She grunts, a little more than pissed off, and squeezes her eyes shut whilst blindly searching because there's a reason she wears those damn things and that's because of damage control. Ever since she was seven years old, and developed the strange habit of shooting heat rays out her eyes, she's had to wear these damn glasses to make sure it doesn't spontaneously happen.


Seven year old Santana was sitting in her bedroom, elbows propped up against the window sill as she glanced at the world outside.

There was nothing special about that day, but she remembers it was sunny and there were a few birds chirping on the tree directly outside her bedroom window. Oh, and the fact that it was the first day she ever killed something with her stupid powers.

"Mija, lunch is ready," her grandfather called from the doorway.

Santana glanced towards him and grinned, excitedly, getting down from the chair and bouncing over to her grandpa. "Look, abuelo! He's back!" She exclaimed, tugging on his hand and bringing him back towards the window.

When they got there, Santana pointed out of it to where a small brown squirrel was sitting on the branch, nibbling on a piece of bread from the bowl her grandma put out in the garden earlier. It was quite possibly the cutest animal she'd ever seen, and it'd been visiting for the past few days which made it even more exciting because it just kept coming back. She liked to think she had something to do with it, and little did she know at that time, she actually did. Her mind hadn't quite developed hypnosis quite yet, but it was at the beginnings and apparently worked on small living creatures.

"Si, dear, but abuela has made you tuna sandwiches, your favorite," her grandpa cooed, rubbing over her hair tenderly. "Now come on."

"But, abuelo..."

"No, come on, Tana," he turned her body but she kept her head facing the squirrel. "Time to go downstairs for lunch."

But being Santana, she didn't want to leave, and so she grabbed a hold on the window sill and knew that her grandfather wouldn't try and pry her off because last time that happened, the window frame was missing a tiny hand sized chunk. She frowned, pulling her brows together and tight as they would go and continued to stare at the squirrel with absolutely no intention of leaving. This squirrel was here to be seen and so she was going to do that. Even if there was a strange tingling bubbling in the back of her mind.

She was such a stubborn child.

"Let go," her grandfather said, softly, attempting to peel off her fingers.

"No. I don't want to."


"I want to stay here with Mr. Squirrel," she pouted and pointed back out the window.

Her grandfather narrowed his eyes down at her and for the first time, she felt the burning embers in the back of her mind. It was a strange feeling, but being a child she didn't know any different and put it down to tears.

"Mr Squirrel will still be here when you get back," he grabbed at her hand and tugged. "So come on."

And that was that.

It felt like a small bomb exploded behind her eyelids and before she knew it there was a small crash and the squirrel was gone. Santana blinked, once, twice, and then felt wetness trail down her cheeks as she looked towards the window and found a small, circular hole in the glass; cracks webbing out from all sides. It all happened so quickly, and her grandfather was towering over her to peer down into the garden whilst she continued to gaze at the hole, completely blank in her mind.

She didn't even know what she'd done until a hand covered her eyes and her grandfather was hugging her close, murmuring 'it's okay, sweetie' and 'he's in a better place now' into her hair.

That was the day she swore to never harm another living creature ever again.

The next day her grandma took her to a house out on Staten Island.

That was the first time she met Dr. Holliday and the day she received her first pair of glasses.

There hasn't been a day since that she hasn't worn her glasses.

A hand on her shoulder brings her from her thoughts and she snaps her head around, attempting to scowl through closed eyes. Why is someone touching her?

"Here," the person says, and their voice is soft and sweet in the way that makes Santana's skin tingle.

She knows who it is instantly, and she's pretty sure she knew before because you know, superhuman senses and all, but the voice just confirms it. The hand from her shoulder slides down her arm, fingertips grazing over the inside of her bicep and forearm before reaching her hand and opening it up, palm up. Something light but hard is placed in the flat of it, and fingers slide through the gaps of her own, curling and urging to close around the object until she has a firm grip on things and she swears to God she almost passes out because holy crap Brittany's touching her.

"Thank you," she murmurs, hastily pulling her hand away and sliding her glasses back onto her face; blinking a few times to feign returning her vision to normal.

Brittany's barely inches away from her face and she swallows hard and jerks her head back, swiftly moving to stand as her hand snatches the last textbook away. Blue eyes flash with something unreadable but she ignores the way it settles low in her gut because she's already embarrassingly relieved that she hasn't randomly come out with you're perfect or I love you by now.

"Erm, thanks."

Moving to her feet, the blonde girl nods and smiles weakly. "That's okay."

Santana presses her lips together, probably looking more like she's trying hard to produce a smile than hide it, and closes her locker before walking away; her hand still on fire from where Brittany's fingers have just been.

Santana closes her eyes, breathes in deeply through her nose and feels the first sparks build at the back of her mind. When it builds up enough, she clenches her jaw and snaps her eyes open, shooting a heat ray across the length of the abandoned warehouse and hitting a rusting metal barrel which flies back against the wall at the impact.

A rush of adrenaline surges through her and cracking her knuckles, she zooms over towards the barrel in less than a second to catch it before it lands with a loud clang on the floor. She catches it, twisting at the waist and throwing it baseball style to the other end of the warehouse, soon realizing how much strength she put behind the throw and promptly panicking.

But it's not like this is the first time she's done this, and so she speeds over there quickly, sliding along the floor and leaning back to drag her hand along the concrete; the air whooshing past her as she skids on her side to make sure she's where the barrel will land. Obviously, it lands with precision in the palm of her hand and she slowly lowers it to the ground, straightening up and arching backwards to stretch herself again.

She refuses to get out of shape.

See, towards every end of the month, Santana has to let off some steam. It's something she's had to do every month since she was ten, because it turns out that when her powers aren't being used a lot, they tend to build up in energy and begin to toy with her emotions and hormones. And so when it gets to the point before she lashes out, she usually flies across the country to a variety of abandoned warehouses Google have found for her.

She only spends around two or three hours there, lifting old, broken down trucks and lining up rusting objects along the roof to practice shooting her heat rays, but it's still enough to quench her need for release for the next month.

Training used to be a chore, but now Santana finds it rather relaxing, seeing as school and living with her grandparents gets stressful at times, and so it's time like these where she lets her hair down and just goes for it. When she's here, alone, it's like nothing else exists and that's why she's never even brought her grandparents to come and see her train. It's like she's in her own little world and for that she's grateful.

Because living in the real world can just get too much sometimes, especially for someone like Santana.

It's 11pm when she gets home, and she can feel the dried sweat covering every inch of her skin and the need for a shower burning into her brain. Her muscles ache a little, and fatigue is scratching at her eyelids – because believe it or not, superheroes do sleep (even though she's not a superhero) – and she just kind of wants to have a shower and climb into bed and just freaking sleep.

Not to mention, she was at the abandoned warehouse in Idaho for a good eight hours, straight from school, without even telling her grandparents where she was going and no doubt she's going to have her ear chewed off for that one.

She slowly hovers down until she's covered by the trees in her back yard when her house comes into view, and then as she perches on one of the branches, which bends beneath her weight, she drops out the tree like a ninja, landing on the balls of her feet with her palms spread out on the dirt beside her feet. Even if she can fly, sometimes it's nice to take advantage of the flexibility her human genes gave her and combine it with her superhuman strength to create some serious air.

There are some benefits to super powers, after all.

Moving to her feet, she begins her walk to the house and takes a step back with her hand on the screen door to look up at her grandparents bedroom. The window's open and the lights are off which luckily, means that they should be asleep so she can just sneak around, do her thing and go to sleep without playing twenty questions with her grandma. That can wait for the morning.

On her tiptoes, she creeps in through the kitchen and through the living room to the stairs, shrugging her backpack off her shoulder and dropping it to the floor as she begins to head to her room. But then the light flicks on and she pauses, mid-step.

"You know for a girl with superpowers, you're not very quiet, mija."

Santana scrunches up her face and twists on the balls of her feet, offering an apologetic smile to her grandmother who's sitting on the piano stool, running her fingers over the keys of the piano in front of her.

"Abuela..." she starts, hoping to explain.

"Tana," her grandma interrupts, glancing at her with a soft expression. "I understand that you need to let out some of that energy, and I know what you're like when you don't let it off," she sighs and stands, heading towards Santana with that same expression. It makes Santana feel fucking guilty and she looks down to the floor to try and avoid it, but it doesn't work.

"But please, can you at least tell me or your abuelo where you're going and when you'll be back. We were worried."

Santana sucks in her bottom lip and gnaws gently, nodding in shame. "Yes. Sorry, abuela."

Her grandma walks towards her and cups her cheek, smiling at her when they lock eyes. "As your punishment you get to go and put the trash out, now."

"Awh, grandma," Santana whines, tipping her head back. "Please?" She begs, her bones and muscles screaming for her bed. "Can I do it in the morning?"

"No, Santana. Now go and do it and be in bed within twenty minutes."

Sighing in defeat, she accepts her punishment and drags herself to the kitchen ape-style to grab the trash. The sound of the stairs creaking lets her know her grandma's gone upstairs and she rolls her eyes before muttering unintelligible phrases under her breath to release some of the anger. Technically speaking she could just go and burn this in the backyard, or like, throw it as far as she can and make it land in Mexico or something, but she's pretty sure one of her grandparents will check in the morning. So she might as well do it properly.

Twisting the black bag in her hand, she holds down the outside of the trashcan and pulls the bag out, tying the top into a knot to ensure none of the contents falls out. She does a quick x-ray scan to check there's no liquid sloshing about to land on her feet as she carries it out and when that's done, and she finds nothing, she swiftly moves to the front door, opening it and heading outside to the main trashcan to deposit the rubbish.

She steps outside, feeling the sudden temperature change on her skin – but smirking because she can't feel it so she barely ever gets too cold or too hot – and heads down to the pavement where the bin is. Lifting the lid and throwing the bag in, she glances to the sky and notices just how many stars are out tonight, and wonders if her grandma will shout at her for climbing onto the roof to stare at the for a few hours.

It's something she's been doing for as long as she can remember, and it always makes her heart warm a little because the only words ever directed to her from her parents were in a damn letter left for her, and they spoke about the stars and how they'd always be one, watching down on Santana.

A slight choke escapes her lips as she tips her head forward once more and feels the tell tale sting of tears at her eyes. That's something she thinks is always weird, that she can cry. She's pretty sure in comics superheroes can't cry, and yeah, even though she isn't one, she does wonder why she can. Human genes is always the thing she's put it down on, because her mom was half human after all, but still it's weird.

A door slams behind her and steps follow, and she turns around quickly, eyes growing wide at the sight of Brittany descending the stoop of her house hastily with crossed arms and a stern expression. It worries Santana immediately, and she perks her ear up to hear the shouts and yells coming from inside the blonde girl's house. Almost immediately she stops, feeling like she's prying and glances towards Brittany again who's stood in the middle of her front yard, staring at the stars with her arms crossed in the same way Santana was a minute ago. Maybe Brittany's got her own star up there, too.

"They're pretty beautiful, huh?" It comes out before she can stop it and heat blossoms across her skin as Brittany snaps her attention towards her.

Blue eyes harden for a split second before softening with recognition. "Yeah," the blonde girl lets out through an exhale, looking back towards the sky and then towards Santana once more. "They are."

Santana shifts awkwardly, breathing out a sigh because she's pretty sure this is her first ever full on conversation with Brittany and she can't even take it past the damn stars. She has seriously no game.

"Are you okay?" She breathes after a minute, eyes flicking back to the house when Brittany stares at her quizzically.

It's a stupid question, because Brittany's quite obviously not okay. The girl has freaking tears on her face and her parents are yelling at each other in the house she just stormed out of , and now Santana just wants to fucking slap herself for being such an idiot. Seriously, the no game thing? Understatement.

Brittany doesn't answer for a long while, just stares at the ground and circles the toe of her shoe in the dirt on the floor. Santana almost gives up right then and there with a "sorry to disturb you"and a sheepish walk back towards her house. But then the blonde girl tilts her head up and begins to walk towards her, blue eyes glossing over and she's pretty sure all the breath is ripped straight from her lungs when Brittany flings her arms around her neck and pulls her into a hug.

She didn't even know she had moved to the edge of her chain-link fence and so when this happens she's confused for more than one reason. Although her mind is mostly preoccupied with the fact that Brittany fucking Pierce is hugging her right now and not with the fac that somehow she gravitated towards the damn fence without realizing.

She barely has time to register the fact that this is actually happening and even then she's more focused on making sure her damn knees don't buckle embarrassingly. So much so that she doesn't even manage to send the command to her brain to hug back because she's so damn stunned.

"Sorry," Brittany sniffles as she shuffles back out the hug. "It just..." she trails off and begins to toy with her sleeve by her wrist and Santana drops her hands to the fence, holding herself up because her body might give out any second. "It just... It gets too much sometimes, y'know?" The blonde girl continues, locking eyes with Santana and squinting.

Santana nods. Yeah, she definitely knows. "Yeah," she agrees. "But I mean, you always have people to talk to if you wanna."

Brittany steps forward, eyes challenging but soft. "Like who?"

Feeling her heartbeat jolt a little, because it's quite obviously directed at her, Santana reaches up with one hand to rub at the back of her neck awkwardly. "I mean... I don't know... You have friends and–" she glances up and catches a perfect eyebrow arched her way.

And then she falters. She falters and stutters and crap, she's a compete fool. Words don't seem to forming in her mind and she's pretty sure if it weren't for her ethnicity she'd look like a tomato right now. Brittany's just beautiful and popular and ugh, it's terrifying to talk to her. This is probably the longest conversation they've ever had and Santana's already a freaking mess. Shaking her head and sucking in a deep breath, she drops her hands to the fence and grabs a hold of it, trying to find her bearings and preferably, the ability to speak properly.

"Well, I mean–You know... I am always here if you need to–"

A hand covers her own, and it sends sparks up through her skin. She snaps her head up, scared that Brittany can feel it too and rejects their connection, but then blue eyes are staring at her with innocence and sincerity and it makes something in Santana's chest clench. If she wasn't already in love with Brittany, she would've just fallen hard.

Although she thinks she might have just fallen a little more.

"Thank you, Santana," the blonde girl whispers, dipping her head lowly and looking all kinds of gorgeous in the moonlight. "I'll hold you to your word."

Remembering she needs oxygen – well she probably doesn't but she has to at least pretend to seem human, right? – she breathes out and grins, a little idiotically, before nodding at the other girl to acknowledge her words. She didn't even know that Brittany knew her name. Which, thinking about it, is probably stupid because they've lived next to each other for the majority of their lives, but it still makes her heart flutter when her name rolls of the other girl's tongue like that.

Brittany smiles at her, nods and pats her hands twice before pulling away and glancing back at the house to sees the curtains twitch. "I better get back inside," she says, jutting her head towards the house. "I think my parents have woken my little sister up."

Santana perks her ear up subtly and hears the older Pierces yelling whilst tiny feet pad along the wood of the floors. A little squeak, and then Brittany's sister is grunting quietly as if she's climbing inside of something. There's another tiny squeak and then the heavier sound of breathing and low muttering's of "please don't yell" and "it's okay Teddy, I'll protect you" and Santana almost pinches her lips up at the side and frowns in sadness 'cause Brittany's sister is hiding inside her closet to get away from the sounds of her parents arguing and that just makes her sad.

"Yeah, she's up," Santana confirms without even meaning to and Brittany side eyes her, like she's about to ask how she knows but at the last second backs out as she heads back up to the house. It's relieving to say the least.

"Thank you again," Brittany says as she climbs the stoop. "

Santana nods instead of saying "no problem" and then smiles. "Bye, Brittany," she refrains from waving, simply glad that she held a conversation with Brittany without embarrassing herself too much. "I'll see you when I see you."

The blonde pauses as one hand pushes against the screen door of her house and twists her neck to gaze at Santana, narrowing her cat-like eyes and smirking. "Yeah... You too."

Santana heads inside without looking back. She can already feel the blue eyes watching her every move as she steps inside, thanks to her super senses, and if she turns she'll probably make a bigger dick of herself by tripping over the carpet or walking into an inanimate object and apologizing. Things like that always happen to her, even if she does have damn powers.

Her grandfather is sitting on the armchair in the corner of the living room when she gets there, but she barely even notices him as she throws herself down onto the sofa, one arm lying limply over her head and the other over her stomach, too occupied with the memories of the past few minutes.

Brittany Pierce just talked to her.

Brittany Pierce just hugged her.

Brittany Pierce just acknowledged her fucking existence.

So maybe putting out the trash isn't such a bad punishment, after all.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Santana smiles wider and realizes she can't seem to wipe it off her face. No matter how strong she is.

"What's with the goofy smile, mija?"

Even though her cheeks ache, Santana somehow manages to grin a little wider and shrugs her shoulders – as much as she can in this position. "No reason, abuelo," she breathes out, jumping to her feet and moving towards him to press a kiss to his forehead as he lowers his newspaper and peers at her over his glasses. "I'm going to bed now."

Her grandfather shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but there's a smile on his face and Santana sticks her tongue out as she darts up the stairs towards her bedroom.

The smile doesn't leave her face until she falls asleep.

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