This is a very dark fic. It contains sexual, physical, and verbal assault. I can promise no death, but I do not yet know how the characters will handle what they're going to go through. Reads and reviews are appreciated, but I do understand if this isn't the same cup of tea as you might have expected of me.
The slushie hit Santana in the face with enough force to cause the ice to cut her cheek, but she found out about that later, and only because the video that someone had taken of it showed the blood starting to flow before it cut out. As her eyes filled with the sticky substance, she felt hot tears spring up to join in. Then she heard it. The sound of a fight. Rubbing her eyes furiously, she cleared her vision enough to see a massive dog pile of football players all attacking one another, and a small blonde head shrieking in anger as she ineffectively pummeled at the edges.
Then the teachers burst in and started pulling people out of the fray, Mr. Schuester picking Brittany up bodily and depositing her next to Santana with the order "take care of her," though which girl he was speaking to wasn't exactly clear. The argument they'd been in the middle of was forgotten in favor of taking the opportunity afforded them and escaping to the teachers' bathroom on the second floor. It was the only bathroom with a reliable lock; it was also rarely used, since it was in an out of the way corner.
Once in the room, each girl quickly went to the mirror to look at the damage done to herself, and neither thought to confirm that the other had indeed locked the door. Brittany's hair had been yanked around, and she was starting to sport a few bruises, but nothing spectacular. Santana bit her lip, turned on the water, and stuck her head under the faucet. "Shit, that's cold," she mumbled as she pulled at the pieces of ice in her dark locks. When the worst of it was out, she flung her head back, eliciting a small screech from Brittany as she walked directly into a stream of water coming from long black hair.
"Dammit Santana, be careful. It's not my fault you got slushied." The tone was so un-Brittany-like that Santana turned to stare at her. "What? I didn't tell anyone about what you said. But you did sing to me in Glee; you did tell me you loved me at our lockers. Did you really think no one in this school overheard? I thought you wanted to be with me. Are you ashamed of what you are unless it's with me?" Santana still stood there, dumbfounded. "I know I found my own voice thanks to Britney; if you can't do it without me, you aren't really ready to do it."
All Santana could do was hear the unspoken words. 'How can I trust that you'll really come out and stay there?' "Brittany, I love you. I do. But facing this alone... I don't know how to do it. And if you don't love me, why did you jump on the guys? You saw Puck and Mike and Sam and all of them beating Karofsky down, why didn't you stop?"
"They jumped in to stop me; I was the first one on Karofsky. I didn't say I don't love you, Santana. I said I can't justify breaking up with Artie just because you made one stand. You've run from me for so long. I love you, honey, I do. So much." She'd inched closer to Santana as she made this speech. Now they stood face to face, the smaller girl leaning back against the sink, having run out of room to back up.
Realizing she was holding her breath happened only when dark spots began to appear before Santana's eyes. She exhaled sharply, and did the one thing her heart told her to do - she reached up and pulled Brittany's lips to hers and kissed her. 'She's not pulling away, she's not pulling away, oh thank you God!' ran through Santana's mind as the kiss deepened. Suddenly she was airborne, Brittany's strong muscles lifting her to sit on the sink's edge. She immediately wrapped her arms around Brittany. They'd done this one before. Hands fisted in dark and light hair alike as they kissed hard enough to bruise. Arguments were lost in this moment, in these kisses.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" The door burst open as two of the older football players came into the room. Santana clung to Brittany, trying to remember if she'd seen either Joseph or Terence downstairs. She realized they must not have been in the fight; she knew the only reason she and Brittany weren't rounded up with the rest of the fighters had been Mr. Shue's sending them away. "Oh don't stop ladies, it's not like we haven't seen the show before. Brandon's party last year? You two sucked face for a good hour just so we'd take you to Breadstix. Then again, you were wasted, so you might not remember. You didn't follow through on your promises that night though. I think it's time you paid up. That is, unless you want the whole school to know what we just caught you doing. A slushie for a single dyke is one thing, but just think about what will happen when they find out there's a pair of them making out wherever they feel like it?"
Swallowing down bile along with as much of her fear as possible, Santana used Brittany's body to pull herself down from the sink and then linked their hands tightly. "Go ahead and tell, Terence. I love Brittany and no homophobic asshole is going to force me not to show her." She heard gasps in stereo, as the football players and Brittany alike reacted.
"Santana, I told you..." Brittany's words were cut off as the boys seem to come to an unspoken agreement. Joseph, a burly linebacker stepped back to the door and locked it, leaning his back against it and smirking. Terence, a smaller receiver who had a reputation for a mean streak, stalked up to the girls. He grabbed Santana by the head and yanked her from Brittany's arms.
"What did you say to me bitch? Did you actually think you got to express an opinion? You aren't even a fucking Cheerio anymore, slut. What makes you think you're allowed to even open your mouth? Oh wait, you can open your mouth, to do your job." He forced her to her knees in front of him, setting his right foot heavily on the back of her left calf, keeping her trapped there. "Now show me what those whore lips are good for," he said, rudely gesturing to the front of his jeans.
'Breathe, just breathe. You've done this before. With him, even. Turn up the charm, get it done with, figure you and Brit out later. You can do this, Santana. Keep her safe. If he's focused on you, he won't go after her.' Santana knew that while Brittany had probably slept with more people than she had, as far as she knew, the blonde girl hadn't faced rape. Santana at least had come close. 'Be strong for her.' Taking a final deep breath, she reached for the older boy's belt. As her hand touched it, Terence jumped back, backhanding her across the jaw.
"Please, you think I want you to touch me slut? If you've been picking up girls around town, how do I know you haven't gotten some bad ass disease. Good to know you know your place though. I can think of a few less picky jocks who will keep you there. No, I think you just need a little lesson in proper female behavior. And consequences." He really was far more articulate than Santana ever would have expected. "First the action - you playing the dyke with the school bicycle over here." He leered at Brittany, reaching out and palming a breast roughly through her shirt. Where she'd been reaching out to protect Santana before, she trembled and held her ground as he mauled her. "Consequence, me and my boy here get all turned on, but have no one to relieve our tension. Then again, Joe, you want in on this? I'll give you your pick. I've had them both. Preference?"
Joe lumbered over to Santana and sneered down at her. "I've had blondie. I think I'll just fuck this one back to what's good for her." And just like that, he was on her. Santana immediately began to try to get away, and opened her mouth to scream, but a second backhand from Terence quieted her, at least long enough for him to get a grip on her throat. Something snapped in Brittany then, and she broke from her paralysis and lept at the three.
"No, no, let her go! Let her g...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" A rough shove from Terence sent her flying away to land at the foot of the stall in the corner, a dull thud resonating as she hit her head. No longer a sexual play toy, she now became just a background body, a silent witness to the torture of her best friend in the world.
The boys stayed in the bathroom for another two hours. Whenever a teacher approached and knocked, either Terence or Joseph would do a startlingly accurate impression of Principal Figgins, indicating that he had massive stomach issues, and scaring the curious staff member away. Santana knew she should be able to figure out which of them was speaking, but her eyes were both swollen shut from the combination of crying and punches, slaps, and a few kicks from the last time she'd tried to scream.
Her clothes were long torn to shreds, not an inch of her body left undefiled or unbruised. Finally, Terence, who had been taking a third turn, pulled out and backed off. "Jesus Christ, this slut is just used up. I'm done with her, you done?" Joe nodded. "All right bitch, this didn't happen. You and the blonde came in here and got into a good old fashioned catfight. She beat you up, you knocked her down and out. You tell anyone. ANYONE, and next time it'll be the whole football team, and she'll get it twice as good. You understand?"
Dimly, Santana knew that couldn't be true. She knew that most of the guys on the team wouldn't do something so horrible to her, especially not her Glee friends. But in the moment, all she could do was think of protecting Brittany, her most precious possession 'no, not possession. She's your friend, your love, but she's not yours'. So she bit her tongue and lied. "I won't tell anyone, I swear. Just, please, could you find me something to wear? No one will believe nothing happened if I'm naked in here."
"Sorry, slut. That's your problem."