A/N: I do not own Glee nor the characters within. Okay, before you complain about the new story and why I haven't updated any of my other stories, please go to my profile and read the Update/Rant that is at the top. If you don't want to do that, here's the short reason: My core computer got The Blue Screen of Death.
Anyway, that aside, this is a story based off this prompt by blissfully_kist (known as BlissfulCloud on here) on the Pezberry LiveJournal community: I had thought about doing a multi chapter fic with at least 3 chapters (or a long-ish 2 shot) where Santana realizes she has feelings for Rachel after the 'Blame It on the Alcohol' episode where she yelled out 'I want you, I do!' to Rachel (cause we all know that's who she was saying it to). ) And instead of continuing to just be a bitch to her like she 'intends' to do, she starts becoming flustered while interacting with Rachel. And then of course Rach is extremely flabbergasted and starts looking at San like she has 2 heads. I believe flustered!Santana would be awesome lol. At some point, Santana finally gains 'some' form of courage, just enough to stutter out that she likes Rachel, but then Rachel doesn't believe her and Santana becomes more flustered, losing what courage she had and storming off. At the end, Santana becomes so frustrated that she ends up kissing her, then whoever of you all can take it from there.
So, I sat down to write it, and this came out. Please let me know what you think! It's very different (I think) from what I usually write (you'll see), so I'm curious if people will like it or not, or if it works. *smile* Anyway, enjoy~
It rained the week after the Alcohol Awareness assembly. Heavy, unending rain, making everything damp and drip with slips and falls all along the halls. The Cheerios were stuck in the gymnasium, the sports teams unsurprisingly losing members as one by one they came down with colds. This made the Cheerios angry and vicious and the jocks almost nonexistent. It was an odd uneven balance of the William McKinley High School hierarchy, and there was a strange taste in the air as everyone didn't know what to expect from minute to minute. Those foolish enough to believe that without the jocks their lives would be made better became examples of Cheerio cruelty – it seemed teenage girls under the tutelage of Sue Sylvester only needed the barest amount of increased power to sweep in a new regime.
From where she was huddled back against her locker, books pressed close to her chest with skin prickling in awareness as a battalion of Cheerios swept past, Rachel realized that it was times like this she didn't know if it was a good thing The Unholy Trinity were Cheerios no more. The three girls were ruthless (after Brittany's callous disregard of Rachel's 'Comeback' plans, she would never underestimate the blonde's ability of being cruel again), and they would thrive in the tumultuous atmosphere… But they also had twisted morals that would be healthier than the pandemonium building underneath the surface Rachel could feel sapping her energy. As a cog in the machine, Rachel was intuitive enough to know that somewhere, metal was buckling. She only hoped that when it snapped and the resulting explosion roared through the halls, she'd be far, far away.
Air flowed back into her lungs as the last of the sea of red and white moved on. There was an almost audible sigh of relief before the uncertain miasma thickened again, leaving the students with baited breath and shifty eyes; a freshman down the hall dropped his open backpack on the ground, and everyone in earshot froze to listen to the clatter of the spill as if it were a harbinger of the burgeoning war.
It wasn't an overreaction of neurotic students – it was self preservation. The day before, the junior section of WMHS had been witness to a confrontation of rising Cheerios led by one of the high lieutenants, high on power, and a small but dangerous company of jocks bristling with entitled, desperate authority like a lion with a thorn stuck in his paw – wounded but still capable of swift and terrible reminders of who and what they were.
The Cheerios, unfettered by HBIC rule, were confident but unorganized. The jocks, massed without half of their forces, were dominant but diminutive. The resulting fireworks left the hall almost in shambles, no surface free of syrup and ice, groups of trembling students huddled together in some hope of survival that they would live to see themselves graduate high school. If it hadn't been for Coach Beiste's fortuitous appearance, Rachel would have become a casualty of the Wednesday Slushie Bath, and she would forever be grateful to the woman (who seemed to be the only teacher unafraid to wade into the war).
But that was the day before. Now Thursday, more jocks were out. The few who insisted on coming to school anyway with boxes of tissues and white, feverish faces, had dropped off like flies before lunchtime, and the balance was dangerously skewed even further in the Cheerio's direction.
"And it continues building," Tina whispered with dread in her voice as she and Mike and Mercedes approached from where they had been pushed flat against their own lockers in abject fear.
Sucking in a deep breath, Rachel nodded. "Though I would normally find this level of fanatical popularity overly dramatic even for me, I have to admit I'm too scared of what's going to happen if it continues raining next week like it's forecast to be."
"It's supposed to rain next week?" Mercedes whisper-shouted, her panic enabling her voice to carry beyond their small group. Frantic murmurs and terrified students texting and calling everyone they knew to share the horrifying news rippled out from their area like waves of desperation.
Rachel found this quite disconcerting, as normally their small glee bubble afforded them the unfortunate luxury of very often being ignored outright. But with how alert every student was, it seemed they were, for at the very least, temporarily visible. "Yes," she nodded, eying the crowd suspiciously but secretly loving the attention as it no doubt started preparing her for her inevitable career as a Broadway actress. She raised her voice to take pity on the frantic faces who would have to strain to hear her whispers, "I regret to inform that, as of twenty minutes ago when I checked my Blackberry app, the storm front has no plans on leaving us anytime soon."
"Are you sure?" a loud voice called out, and Rachel searched the crowd until she found the boy who had yelled. Firming her shoulders and pulling herself straight, she took a step forward to make some space between her and her fellow glee club members to appear more confident and important. She looked him straight in the eye and nodded seriously, affixing a practiced troubled yet sure with a hint of carefully covered stress expression on her face. "Yes. It seems we are to be taxed a while longer."
More murmurs moved across the crowd. "What do we do?" someone asked slightly louder than the other voices, and Rachel managed to cover her flinch of surprise when all eyes switched to her again.
Somehow, in some way, she'd become the junior hall's current leader. Like a switch, fear invaded her fellow students' minds and made them ignorant of her less than favorable status. Excitement started beating hot in her chest as pride and a sense of finally blossomed through her body. Acknowledgment of her natural leadership abilities were long overdue – and in the case of glee club, had always been very dissatisfactory.
"Whoah…" she could hear Mike's impressed aside to Mercedes and his girlfriend, "She's like…"
"Totally taking control," Tina finished.
"Damn, Rachel. You better watch your step," Mercedes walked forward to whisper in her ear (Rachel kept her eyes on the crowd and the concerned authoritative expression on her face), "You could seriously get in trouble here if they see you." She didn't have to explain who they were.
Nodding shortly to let Mercedes know she'd heard her and understood, Rachel handed her books delicately over to her and brought her hands to her hips. "Alright," she projected again, almost vibrating under everyone's complete attention, "It is obvious that neither the Cheerios nor the jocks care about those who are not part of their 'world'… Us. We are just pawns, faceless characters to populate their chessboard. While this is an unfair example of media-driven high school expectation, it is our reality."
As her words echoed slightly, there was a mixture of nods and eye rolls and totally clueless mouths dropped open looking back at her.
"You planning on forming a resistance, Berry?" Quinn pushed her way to the front, followed by Santana and Brittany; the crowd moved to allow them passage, obviously feeding off the memory of The Unholy Trinity's prior life as head cheerleaders, "Because if you are, you're insane."
Rachel frowned at the interruption to her brave and heroic speech. "No, Quinn," she offered nicely, continuing to split her attention between the blonde and the crowd, "If you allow me to finish, you will see what I have in mind." Fortunately, there was no chance of losing any of her audience. Even frightened out of their minds, WMHS students were slaves to gossip-worthy drama. Undoubtedly, a square-off between Rachel and the girl who used to be in charge would be explosive (the fact that they also had a history of fighting over the same boy only made it that much more scandal-worthy).
Quinn narrowed her eyes at her, crossing her arms. She unconsciously fell into her HBIC posture and energy, and for a second Rachel was concerned she'd lose her position to her. However, her natural pride and absolute belief in herself pulled her back in control.
The two girls squared off, Quinn angry and critical, Rachel succeeding in looking unconcerned and patient. As the tension started radiating out from the two girls, there was absolute silence from everyone's baited breaths. Finally, Quinn inclined her head. "Fine," she relaxed minutely, exchanging glances with Santana and Brittany and then moving her gaze back to Rachel, "What is your 'plan'?"
Pleased, Rachel sat back lightly on her heels, giving Quinn a very much in control smile. "Thank you, Quinn," she nodded, proud of Quinn's lips tightening at the studied flippant response, and turned back to the waiting students. "Alright!" she dropped one of her hands from her hip to appear a bit more relaxed, sweeping her gaze back and forth to retrieve people's gazes, "No, I am not planning a 'resistance'. What I am putting forth – suggesting, rather, is that everyone's main concern is survival, correct?"
Giant nods and anxious yeses answered her.
"And to survive is to avoid confrontation?"
More yeses, and she could see some dawning understanding.
"And to avoid confrontation is to not be available for the Cheerios or jocks to use?"
More people were starting to follow where she was going, and she resisted the urge to clap happily, the warm feeling of accomplishment surging within her.
"Now." Lowering her eyes demurely and bringing her free hand up to study her nails in the practiced move she'd seen Santana do many times, Rachel started to introduce the main idea that had been running through her mind the whole time she'd been under the spotlight, "As someone who has experienced almost daily slushie attacks and other… Troubles from the hands of jocks and Cheerios alike, I have developed a… System, if you will, of maximum avoidance."
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Quinn's mouth drop open. "Rachel!" she hissed, "You're going to – "
"Yes." Rachel smoothly cut her off, sending her a pointed look, "As the magnitude of this battle will only increase, I feel that it is my duty to help my fellow students." She turned and smiled determinedly with a side of righteous surrender at the wide-eyed, shocked but eager crowd. She raised her hand to her chest and lowered her shoulders as if she was a touch reluctant but was willing to do the best – as it was the right thing to do, self sacrifice or not, of course. "As the bell is about to ring, I cannot detail everything yet. However! As this is my free period, I shall go ahead and type up my list of tried and true techniques of evasion. Come find me and I shall be glad to hand them out."
There was a pregnant silence, followed by what she would later swear was a physical enveloping of her body with tingles and importance as the impression of Rachel Berry, lowest of the low on the totem pole, changed. It was obvious as people stared dumbly at her, that no one knew what they were now supposed to be doing. They were grateful and for the first time in a long time they let hope filter through the dark cloud that had taken up residence in their heads. However, they all knew (and as Rachel well knew), deep in their minds, that this new impression was only temporary. They only needed her now. As soon as the rain let up, she'd be forgotten again.
That knowledge made everything slightly awkward. The crowd was shrinking in their shame, but Rachel kept the smile on her face regardless. Then, as if to add another nail in the shared embarrassment coffin, Rachel brightly called out over the ringing bell, "Remember! Bathrooms are our friends!"
And like ducks taking flight as an eager dog bared down on them, the students scattered. A few tried to open their mouths and mumble out something, but she graciously shook her head and let them slink away with their tails between their legs.
It was bittersweet, but it was the best she'd had in a long time.
As the last student disappeared, Rachel let herself deflate. Tina and Mike were there to squeeze her shoulders while Mercedes pulled her into a strong, needed hug.
"I don't know why you're doing this," Quinn's harsh voice made her pull back, "You're going to be forgotten soon enough."
Rachel looked into her intense hazel eyes. "I know," she inclined her head, giving Quinn a mild smile, taking a couple of steps back so she could share that smile with everyone, "And I'm prepared for when that happens."
Quinn sighed and raised her hand to push back a lock of her hair. "No, you're not," she stated simply, then dropped her shoulders and shook her head. Her eyes gentled before she looked away. "But for what it's worth, I understand."
"Me too," Mercedes added, giving her a sad smile.
Tina nodded. "Yeah. You're just doing what we're too cowardly to do ourselves."
"Man." Mike shook his head, "Rachel, you're brave. Much braver than me."
Smiling sheepishly and shrugging her shoulders, Rachel pulled her books back from Mercedes. "I believe you're making a bit too much of this, but thank you. Now, I believe I have a Power Point presentation I need to rewrite."
As she turned to start walking away, strong arms swept her up into a tight hug, and Brittany, setting her chin on Rachel's head, squeezed her tightly. "You're amazing, Rachel," she smiled, "It was like watching a movie. I can't wait to see the end!"
Rachel smiled, blushing a little. "Thank you, Brittany. But if you would let me go, I'd appreciate it. I... Need to start on the second act."
"Of course!" Taking her arms back, Brittany beamed at her. "Break a leg!"
Not bothering to comment on the blonde's use of that phrase, Rachel moved her gaze to the last member of the group who had been surprisingly silent the whole time, curious to see if she had anything to add. Santana's eyes were slightly unfocused, but when she realized Rachel was looking, she blinked and quickly averted her eyes with a peculiar expression on her face.
Surprised, Rachel shrugged and nodded goodbye at everyone, her mind already reconstructing and deconstructing what had just happened. She knew to continue her unofficial role without stepping on the toes of either the jocks or the cheerleaders, she'd have to 'step down' after she gave out the list. That would be the safest way to avoid the brunt of negative attention and retaliation she'd become targeted for if she came into notice. She may lust after popularity, but even she knew when it was time to err on the side of caution.
"Berry!"
Knocked out of her thoughts by Santana calling her name, Rachel paused. Noting the warning bell ringing as the other girl strode up to her, she resisted the urge to start tapping her foot. "Yes, Santana?"
Stopping in front of her, still sporting the peculiar expression and dark eyes flitting all over Rachel's face, Santana opened her mouth. "Berry," she started, lips frowning for a second before hesitantly quirking up only to be forced down again, "That was incredibly foolish. I don't know what you're playing at, trying to be one of the 'big kids', but…" Santana's gaze drifted down, and Rachel frowned at her. Snapping her eyes back up and shaking her head, Santana almost reached out a hand to touch Rachel's arm, pulling it back and into a crossed arm pose at the last second. Her frown deepened, and she licked her lips. "I, I mean… I don't know what you're playing at, but…" She seemed to lose her train of thought again, eyes dropping again.
"But what?" Rachel prompted exasperatedly, incredibly confused. "Santana, class is about to start soon, and I know for a fact that you have an actual class, unlike me, who can afford to be late. Though I would rather not. I do, if you remember," she raised her eyebrows at Santana, "Have something I need to type up."
Santana's jaw flexed and her eyes flashed darker. "Whatever. I don't have to – " Her voice rose a for a second, but she swallowed and uncrossed her arms to bring her hand up to her face. "Fine," she breathed out and took her hand away, composed again as she propped her hand on her hip, "Just be careful. I know how the Cheerios are. The jocks are just dumb brutes; that's obvious. But it's the cheerleaders you should be more aware of."
"I…" Rachel furrowed her brows, "I know. But, uhm, thank you…? Santana, I must admit I'm surprised that you are 'warning' me. You are normally not so – "
Santana cut her off with a panicked expression on her face. "Warning you? I'm not warning you! I just don't want to see you getting – I – just – Watch yourself, Berry!" She clicked her mouth shut and abruptly did an about face and strode away, body tense and annoyed.
Out of everything that had happened to Rachel that day – the terror supplied by the marching cheerleaders, the joy of assuming her rightful spot in front of her peers, and this strange encounter with one third of The Unholy Trinity, it was the look on Santana's face right before she stalked away that was the leading thought in her head as she set out to secure her temporary popularity by a few strokes of the keys.
Thank goodness she had a nearly eidetic memory and a Power Point presentation in her past that made that goal easy to write. Printing out over a hundred copies after arguing with the teacher that the toner was there to be used and not smiled at, she tried to calm the rapid beating of her heart. Uncomfortably, her sixth sense was telling her something probably wasn't going to go well later that day…