Hello! This is my second attempt at writing a Glee fic. The last one was too random for me to finish, as a solid plot type of girl, but this one is just right for me. Enjoy!
Introduction: Blonde Competition
Santana walked through the door of a house that had been branded legendary, immediately surrounded by the students of none other than McKinley High. This was the first party following the long Christmas break of her freshman year, and as the sea of drunk dancing students parted to let her through, she couldn't help but grin. High school had been good to her, thus far. She was a new Cheerio on the rise, and most of her friends consisted of Cheerios that were already at the top. More importantly, they were at the top and graduating, no amount of love for them could take away from her thoughts of the lack of competition that would remain. The juniors had all managed to be swept up in one of those pregnancy pack ordeals, and there was no way their coach was going to allow any baby bumps prancing around on her turf. Not that they pranced.
Finally making it to the kitchen, she was surprised that she hadn't bumped into the new leading man of McKinley. A freshman himself, and hardly beyond the simple jock mentality, Noah Puckerman had managed to clime the social ladder before Santana had even fully scoped the place out. It was simple really, he played football, and he was good at it. The other freshman players weren't looking so promising, and the juniors...well, they would soon have their hands full—as fathers. Not that they were exclusive or anything, but Santana and Noah were known to frequent each others' parts. And not just in a geographical sense. However, there would be plenty of time to play up that role, later on.
She stood in front of the various rows of liquor on the counter, grabbing a shot glass from a cabinet only she probably knew about, other than Puck and a few of his friends. Maybe a few noisy party goers. She wondered which of the burning fluids would be her treat of choice for the night. Thanks to her father drilling her for an extra hour, she was even later than she had intended to be, and now she seemed to be the only one who wasn't already intoxicated. Others in the large kitchen had obviously been there for a while; a few of them stumbling about in fits of laughter with blue and red cups, with the typical 'chug, chug' coming from the lips of a few others as beer sputtered from the lips of an amateur drinker, and the rest of them were coupled off on the brink of public activities of sexual variety, she was sure.
Laughing slightly at the scene, she decided to go with clear liquors for the night. The holidays had given her plenty of dark liquor, and most of it hadn't ended well. "Here's hoping I don't get grounded for the next century," she said, pouring herself a shot and downing it quickly.
Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed a familiar face approaching. Standing up a bit straighter and crossing her arms over her chest, she watched the girl through slanted eyes, wondering if she too would go to the cabinet full of shot glasses that Santana herself had stood in front of moments ago. There would be no need to wonder how the other teen would know where the glasses were, Puck wasn't exactly known for being a saint in any way and this girl was a typical candidate for certain attentions. She was a tall, slender blonde, with blue eyes, and an IQ of zero. More importantly, she was fresh meat. Freshly arrived from whatever cow-town hole Santana imagined she came from.
When the blonde reached for the bottle Santana had yet to put back in the rows of bottles and started to lift it to her lips, Santana put her hand on the bottle to stop it. "Uh, show some respect. Ever heard of a cup?"
The girl blinked. "That's how my Nana drinks it."
"She sounds like a real catch," the latina said, taking the bottle fully into her hand and reaching for a shot glass. "Don't tell anyone where you got this." She sat the glass down next to her own, filling the both of them before handing one to the blonde.
"I didn't get it."
Before Santana could even set the bottle down, she saw the girl down her shot without another word, her nose scrunching slightly. "Who the hell is this girl?" she thought, letting her own shot slowly run down her throat. She was no amateur. You couldn't be, if you wanted to make it to the top and stay there. "Want another one?"
Shrugging, the blonde reached for one of the smaller bottles on the back row. "I've already had a lot of these. Puck said I could have as much as I want."
"I bet he did," she scoffed. "Look, I'm going to give you some advice—Don't go there."
"Where's there?" the girl asked.
"What?" Santana questioned the girl's blank expression, seeing that the question was in fact a question. "You've gotta be kidding me," she said, rolling her eyes. "You're a lost cause."
"That's what my new math teacher says when I'm in class, but I'm just like—Obviously I'm not lost, my schedule says I'm supposed to be here." She paused. "This is Puck's house, right?"
Just when Santana was about to answer, the boy in question appeared. "Hey babe," he said, putting his arm around the blonde's shoulders. He looked over at Santana, only nodding his head in her direction. "So, Brittany, what do you say you and the Puckasaurus go dance?"
A broad smile spread across the blonde's lips. "Okay."
And like that, Santana was left standing alone, her mouth hanging agape. She had just been completely brushed off, and for what, some idiot blonde who obviously didn't even belong in any high school? There was no way she was going to be outranked by the likes of Brittany Pierce, a name she never claimed to know, let alone remember. But there was no Cheerio Santana didn't have her eye on. Okay, except for the juniors. If she played her cards right, she'd be the at the top of the pyramid in no time, and that meant keeping her status in all of the high school social arenas.
"Was that the new girl, with Puck?"
Suddenly at her side was yet another blonde bombshell she had to compete with, and unfortunately this one wouldn't be graduating soon, either. "Quinn," she said, standing beside the girl without looking in her direction.
They did that often, standing side by side watching all the McKinley high students like covert spies on a mission to dismantle and destroy. She could care less about Quinn's reasoning for wanting to be the next top bitch, but as two new fish in a big pond, it was good to have a skilled ally, and if Quinn Fabray was one thing—she was a bitch. And if it weren't for a few soft moments Santana had witnessed, she would say the girl was on her level, but alas a drunken night led her to conclude otherwise.
"Santana." They stood in silence for a moment, Quinn crossing her arms as well. "That has to be the dumbest girl I've ever met."
"All the better to pluck," Santana commented, turning to pour herself another drink. "Still a light weight, Fabray?" Haven been to many parties together, she was more than aware of Quinn's inability to hold her liquor.
"My parents are out of town this weekend." That meant she could enjoy herself at least a little bit, since she didn't have to worry about her dad coming to give her a breathalyzer test at dawn. Her reputation would not be lowered to one of a slut, that was Santana's expertise, and the new girl's from what she had heard. "You spending the night at my place, then?"
"Doesn't look like I'll be staying here tonight, so why not?" Handing her top competition a shot, she clinked their glasses together. "To another semester of climbing to the top."
"Here, here," Quinn said, knocking back the shot.
"By the way," she said, giving the girl a dramatic once over. "You look like my first grade teacher, and I seriously wish you'd keep it in the bottle. That is so not your natural hair color."