Hi all!
This is my first Glee Fic, naturally revolving around my favourite character, Santana! It's Brittana obviously, and eventual Faberry, because I absolutely love those two together! The rest of the Glee kids are in it too, especially Puck, because I've got such a soft spot for him. It's meant to take place at the end of Season 3, just before Rachel, Finn and Kurt are supposed to graduate! Also, Sam is still in it because I love him. At this point, Rachel and Finn are still together, but not for long! Faberry all the way! Kurt and Blaine are together too! And Britanna is always on!
I'd appreciate it if you could let me know what you think of this first chapter, and whether or not you think I should continue! Peace and love.
Santana Lopez slammed her fist onto the table in fury.
This was bullshit.
Fifteen hours. She had been stuck in this godforsaken airport for fifteen fucking hours, waiting to board a plane that had been delayed over and over again. Her bony ass was hurting from the most uncomfortable chair she had ever sat on, her hair was thrown up in a messy pony-tail because some douche-bag had accidentally spilt his Sprite on it, and she was pretty sure her mascara had smudged all around her eyes, making her look like a panda. She wasn't exactly having the time of her life.
The red-head at the desk had laughed and smiled when Santana had expressed her concern over the delays, that she absolutely had to be in New York by 9 AM tomorrow, or she and her friends would be disqualified from Nationals. They had to register on time. The lady had responded that the plane would get them there well before 9 AM tomorrow, and that Santana didn't have to worry.
Santana suppressed a growl in the back of her throat as she stared at the words 'Flight Cancelled' flashing across the screen. Oh yeah. She was worried alright. And she was pissed.
To her right, Puck gave a loud snore. She glared at him in disgust. He had been asleep for the past thirteen hours, his head resting on the table that lay tribute to Santana's hard attempt to stay awake. It was littered with empty coffee cups, candy wrappers and sheets of completed crosswords that she had ripped out from the magazines on the shelf in coffee shop. Sleeping Beauty had been blissfully unaware of any of the chaos happening around them, probably dreaming of some dirty threesome or something.
He gave a great big snort when she shook him awake, which made the family sitting behind them jump in fright. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he turned to look questioningly at Santana, who wordlessly pointed to the screen in front of them. When his sluggish brain finally got hold of what was going on, Puck groaned, and slumped his head back onto the table with a thump.
"Come on," said Santana, wincing from the stiffness in her legs as she slowly stood up. She grabbed her suitcase and dragged it across the floor, Puck tailing behind her, heading towards the already crowded Information Desk. She spotted the red-head that she had talked to earlier, and couldn't help the evil smirk that crept onto her face. She had been stuck in this airport for fifteen hours, bored, frustrated and seriously needing a shower. The prospect of going all Lima-Heights on this bitch's ass was almost too sweet. Adrenaline was fuelling her system with excitement and anticipation. She couldn't wait to let rip, and do what she did best.
But it seemed she would be denied even this shred of enjoyment. Someone had beaten her to the punch. Someone had reached the desk first, yelling out obscenities for the whole airport to hear, gesturing wildly with freakishly large hands. Santana knew those man-hands. Heck, she knew that voice. All too painfully well.
As if she needed another reason to hate Rachel Berry.
Skulking behind her were Quinn and Sam, both looking suitably embarrassed by the attention they seemed to be attracting. They looked over at Santana and Puck as they drew closer, their faces sporting identical looks of surprise.
"What are you doing here?"
They had all said it simultaneously. Sam chuckled, which seemed to break the tension because suddenly they were all smiling.
"I'm guessing we were all meant to be on the same flight then?" he asked Santana and Puck.
"The one that's been delayed for, like, a gazillion hours?" answered Santana.
"Yeah that's the one."
There was a pause, and then Puck chirped in with a confused "Wait, how long was I out?"
Santana just shook her head at him, somewhat amused.
"I have to be on that plane, lady. Do you understand me? I have to be on that plane!"
Rachel was starting to high-pitch. Ordinarily, Santana would have stepped in by now with a snide remark to get her to shut up. It was honestly like listening to a broken record of Road Runner. Santana had always hated Road Runner. Coyote wasn't cut enough slack.
But hell, she was pissed off too. And quite frankly, if anyone deserved to be at the receiving end of one of Berry's rants, it was that bitch.
Instead she turned to Quinn. "So, what's the deal? Is everyone else in New York already?"
Quinn nodded. "Mr Schue flew in yesterday with Finn, Tina, Mike and Mercedes. I think Lauren was already in New York on holiday or something, so she just met them there. And then Brittany and Artie arrived last night. I think Kurt and Blaine were on the same flight, but I haven't heard from them."
Santana tried to not show how much it affected her to hear that Brittany had flown in with Artie.
"Blaine's there too?" she asked instead.
"Yeah he wanted to come and support us."
Santana raised her eyebrows. Wow. Blaine needed to get life.
Not that she wasn't fond of the guy. He was too damn cute to hate. Heck, if it wasn't for the whole gay thing, she'd totally ride that.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE NO MORE FLIGHTS TONIGHT?"
Santana grimaced. Okay. Time to intervene.
"Dwarf, seriously, tone it down. I'm pretty sure the whole of Ohio can hear you."
Rachel turned abruptly, glaring at her. Santana swore she could see the steam rising from her ears.
"Santana, I know you don't care whether or not we make it to Nationals, but some of us actually want to go far in our lives, and this show choir competition is the last chance I have to get noticed! Don't you get it? My Broadway career depends on this competition!"
Santana ignored her, rolling her eyes. She plastered a smile on her face before turning to the red-head, battering her eye lashes. "So... Jill," she said, reading the lady's name-tag, "when's the next flight out to New York?"
Jill sighed. "Unfortunately, because of these extreme weather conditions, I can't say. No one is flying out of Ohio tonight."
Santana's smile faltered. "Oh come on, it's just a stupid storm. Ohio deals with these things all the time. What about tomorrow morning?"
Jill was starting to look nervous again. She bit her lip. "I'm very sorry, but all flights have been cancelled until further notice. It doesn't look like there'll be any until tomorrow evening at the earliest. There's a hotel across the road if you want to check yourselves in for the night, and if you come back tomorrow afternoon, we can-"
She broke off abruptly as Santana slammed her fist down for the second time that night, all traces of a smile gone from her face.
"Lady, I don't know if your cheap-dye job affects your hearing or something, but I'm pretty sure I made it perfectly clear that we-" Santana gestured to the rest of the club, "-need to be in New York by 9 AM tomorrow morning."
Jill's eyes hardened.
"I understand, and I'm very sorry for the inconvenience caused, but I can't help you. Please come back tomorrow, and we should be able to put you on another flight".
With that, she turned to address the person next in line.
"Oh hell no," Santana snarled, reaching for Jill's shoulder, ready to unleash her rage. However, two strong arms wrapped around her waist suddenly, picked her up, and carried her away from the desk before she could do any damage. A shriek to her left told her that Rachel was experiencing something similar.
"Puck," Santana was literally shaking with anger now, "put me the fuck down. Now."
"No can do, Lopez. It's for everyone's safety".
He actually sounded like he was enjoying himself. Sometimes, Santana really didn't understand her best friend.
He sat her down on a bench on the other side of the room. Two seconds later, Sam deposited Rachel next to her. Quinn stood in front of them, glaring menacingly. "Sit, and shut up," she ordered, "while we figure out a plan. Getting angry, or hysterical-" she added, looking meaningfully at Rachel "-isn't going to help anyone."
Santana could see Puck smirking at her from his position behind Quinn, and had an unbearable urge to punch him. But she could see, however begrudgingly, that there was truth in Quinn's words, so she folded her arms across her chest and sat back, scowling at Puck's stupid face.
"Fine," Rachel muttered, mimicking Santana's pose with a huff.
"Fabulous," said Quinn, smiling serenely. She turned to the rest of the group. "So, what's the plan?"
"Okay, here are the rules," warned Santana, as she led the group to her car, "My car means my music, and anyone who tries to say otherwise gets to walk the rest of the way. Also, you spill anything on the seats? You die. Painfully. See this? This is leather motherfuckers. Leather. And it's brand new. So respect it. Gots it?"
They all muttered their acknowledgement as they climbed into Santana's Mazda CX-7. She heard Sam give an appreciative whistle of approval as he took in the interior of the car. "Oh man, this is so sweet. Ten hours of travelling in style!" he said, raising his hand to hi-5 Quinn. From the silence that followed, Santana gathered that she hadn't returned it.
"Ten hours?" piped up Rachel, who was sitting in between the two, "It's going to take us ten hours to drive to New York?"
"That's right!" said Puck, as he lifted the last suitcase into the car's boot.
"More than that if you count stopping for petrol and food. Oh, and pee-breaks," Sam added.
Rachel whimpered dramatically, closing her eyes. "I'm finished. My dream is over."
"What are you moaning about Dwarf?" Santana snapped, as she and Puck tried to get the boot closed.
"We're cutting it too fine. There's no way we're going to make it on time. Not with traffic and rest stops and-"
"Calm your pretty head, my little Jewish princess," Puck interrupted, winking at her, "The way me and San drive? You have nothing to worry about". He gave one final push and sighed in relief when the boot door slammed shut. Turning to Santana, he held out his hand expectantly. "You look like crap. You need to sleep," he said as explanation, when she raised her eyebrows at him, nonplussed.
"Urgh," she groaned, slapping the car keys into his hand before getting into the passenger seat. "I swear to God Puckerman, if you so much as put a scratch on my baby, I will ends you. Hear me?"
"Sweetheart, you know I'll treat her like she's my own," Puck said as he climbed into the driver's seat. Santana looked at him. God, he was practically drooling.
"Oh yeah! Road trip!" cheered Sam, pumping his fist in the air.
"Fellow glee clubbers, I think we should use this time wisely and practice our numbers," squeaked Rachel, who was way too close to Santana's ear for her liking. "Shall I begin the warm up?"
Santana caught Quinn's eye in the review mirror. Shaking her head, she slumped against her seat, trying to block out the sound of Rachel's vocal exercises.
It was going to be the longest drive of her life.
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