A/N: This and the follow-up, appearing here as a second chapter, were written during the first half of Season 2. So far I have not written any more of this head-canon/universe, which includes BathroomBreak and the Faberry futurefic NakedBerryandtheNewly-CroppedHair, both now also re-published on FF. I really do intend on writing more in this 'verse, but have been distracted with other projects, sorry.
You don't need to have read BathroomBreak first, hence these not appearing as additional chapters to that, but you may wonder why Santana punched a mirror.
Other than just being Santana, of course.
Also, apparently FF won't let me display card characters, hence the suites in brackets (fairly obviously: Spade=S, Heart=H, Club=C, and Diamond=D). And that probably uses up my 'hence' count.
On with the fic:
9(S) J(S) 8(H)
"Why are they called 'Jacks'? Shouldn't they be 'Princes'?"
"I don't know, B, we'll Wiki it later."
"They are not 'Princes', Brittany. They used to be known as 'Knaves', but a manufacturer in the 1860s regarded the shorthand of a capital-K with a lowercase-n to be too similar to the capital-K of the 'Kings', so printed them with the capital-J of 'Jacks', which the cards had been known as in a game called 'All-Fours' since the 17th century. A lot of people didn't like it because the word was considered vulgar."
Brittany looked shell-shocked. The rest of the table wasn't much better, although Santana's grimace was mainly directed at Quinn, who she was certain had almost smiled.
"Do you have wires coming out of the back of your head?"
"Seriously, Berry? Who the fuck invited you anyway?"
"This is a Glee Club get-together Santana."
"Yeah, but I didn't think anybody would actually invite you."
"Finn invited me."
"Figures. Never could keep his mouth shut when it mattered."
"Hey! I'm like, right here..."
"No, people who are here don't fold instantly on every hand."
"I haven't had any decent cards."
"That's not the way it works," Brittany and Rachel said in unison. Then stared at each other.
"Anything else you girls wanna do tog-OUCH!"
Puck rubbed his arm where Santana had punched it. Kurt laughed.
"Really? You actually said 'ouch'?"
"Hey, I was taken by surprise, okay?"
-BAM-
Quinn lifted her hand off the table, rearranged the flop, straightened in her chair.
"Could we please get back to the hand? San, it's your bet."
"Sure, sure," the Latina responded, flexing the hand she'd just used to punch Puck. It still had the dressing from when she'd punched the mirror. Brittany sighed, regarding it.
"You shouldn't've done that."
Santana looked at her, unsure of which action she was referring to. Quinn groaned.
"San!"
"Check."
"Britt?"
"Raise," she said, making no movement towards her stack.
"By how much, Britt?"
"Oh," she looked down, and selected a particularly shiny Dime, "Ten cents!"
She tossed it onto the pile. Santana narrowed her eyes. Quinn took note.
"Call," said Mercedes, "And can we please hurry this along?"
It was now Quinn's turn. Her gaze remained on Santana's narrowed eyes. The Latina stared right back. Quinn's eyes flicked from Santana's, to Brittany's guileless face, to the very, very, shiny Dime, and back up to Santana's.
"Fold."
"Call," sighed Kurt.
"Remind me again why we're playing for money?"
"'Cause you guys wouldn't play for clothes."
"Strip Poker!" yelled Puck.
"No!" yelled Santana, Kurt, Finn, Sam, and Mercedes.
"Thank God," muttered Rachel and Quinn.
"Aww..." whined Puck. And Brittany. Santana tried rubbing her back, but she shrugged the hand off.
"It's just Nickels and Dimes, Man-Hands."
"There was a Quarter in there earlier," Rachel pointed to the pot.
"Ooh, that was mine!" Brittany clapped, "and I won that hand too!"
Rachel gave her a funny look, but a glare from Santana put paid to it. She shrugged.
"Raise 5."
"Fold," said Sam
"Call," Puck.
"Fold," Santana.
"Call," nodded Brittany.
"Finally, said Mercedes, "Call."
Quinn dealt the Turn.
9(S) J(S) 8(H) K(S)
Kurt hum-d and ha-d over his cards, before sighing.
"Fold."
"Raise 10," said Rachel, instantly. Puck side-eyed her.
"Fold."
Brittany smiled contentedly.
"Raise. Oh, 20."
"All-in," Mercedes grinned. An entire fifty cents made its way into the pot.
Quinn looked over at Rachel, who was suddenly less sure of herself.
"Rachel?"
"Uh... Call..."
"Britt?"
"Call, call," the sweet blonde nodded.
"And the River is..."
9(S) J(S) 8(H) K(S) J(D)
"Oh, yes!" Mercedes' grin grew even wider.
"Check," said Rachel.
Brittany shrugged.
"Check."
"Okay," drawled Quinn, "Let's see your cards, ladies."
Santana rolled her eyes.
"You are getting way too into this, Q."
Ignoring her, Quinn looked at Rachel.
"Berry?"
Rachel turned her cards over.
7(D) 10(D)
"God Dammit!" yelled Mercedes.
"Seven-Jack straight. Good cards, Berry."
"No shit," Mercedes continued to mutter. Rachel smiled at Quinn, who just rolled her eyes, before turning to Brittany.
"B?"
"Yes?"
"Cards?"
"But I've already got – oh, right."
She placed her cards on the table.
10(C) Q(H)
Santana laughed.
"Fuck you, Midget."
"Hey!" complained Finn.
Rachel rubbed his arm, thanking him for the sympathy, but her brow furrowed when she thought she saw a split second glare pass across Quinn's face in Santana's direction. But it was only a flash, if it had happened at all, and Quinn had already turned to Mercedes.
"I'm guessing you're not going to beat a Nine-King straight?"
"Oh, you guess?"
She tossed her cards down.
J(C) K(H)
"Full-Goddamn-House, Kings over Jacks."
Quinn gave her a sympathetic smile. Brittany looked to Santana.
"I won, didn't I?"
"Yes, B."
"Yay!"
She gathered up the money, adding it to the large pile of silver she already had. She then carefully picked out the shiniest pieces and put them to one side whilst she sorted the rest into type.
Quinn turned to Kurt.
"You still in? It's your deal."
Kurt ran a finger over his immaculate coif and picked up the cards, carefully shuffling them.
"Very well, let's see if The Lady smiles better on me when I'm doing her work."
Brittany sighed.
"I wish S still did."
Nobody said anything. Or moved. Or breathed. Except for Brittany, who continued her important work.
The moment passed, and Kurt started his deal.
Much Later, After Much Alcohol...
Rachel sat in her bra and panties.
"How did this happen?"
Quinn dragged her eyes up from Rachel's stomach to lazily regard her face.
"It's because..."
She zoned out, lost in brown eyes.
Santana rolled hers.
"You're a lightweight drunk, and you're shit at cards."
"Right," Quinn affirmed.
"I was referring to both of you."
Quinn turned to her.
"Oh, fuck you, little-miss-scaredy-pants."
"What am I fucking scared of? You're the one who can't stop staring at Treasure Trail's treasure trail."
Rachel's eyes went wide.
"Pardon?"
Brittany looked up from carefully folding Quinn's and Rachel's skirts.
"I wouldn't worry about it, none of you are going to remember this in the morning. Not until after some prompting, anyway. And even when you do, everybody else will think you're bullshitting."
Rachel looked mildly perturbed at Brittany's verbosity.
"I can barely talk, how are you managing so well? Better than normal, even?"
"I'm tired. My brain won't turn off when I'm tired. It's why I do all my homework last thing at night, I actually have a chance at getting the right answer. It's also when my pills wear off."
"Pills?"
"Your eyes are fantastic holes of inspiration..." said Quinn.
"Seriously, Q?"
"Seriously, S? Get a new opener."
Santana groaned. Brittany looked around Finn's basement.
"Where's everyone gone? I wasn't paying attention."
Quinn turned to her.
"Mercedes and Kurt left when Kurt lost his money too, and when he phoned his Dad to say he was coming home, Finn's Mom told him to come too, Puck went to the store, but that was two hours ago, so I guess he's in Juvie again, and then Sam left because none of us are interested in offensive play strategies."
"Oh. So why is Rachel still here?"
"Because she thought that Puck would give her a ride home."
Rachel's eyes went wide.
"Wait, does that mean he isn't?"
"Relax, Rach, you can stay here, like these two."
'Rach?', mouthed Santana, mainly to herself.
"Yeah, Berry, Q only hates you in a 'repressed lesbian taking it out on the object of her affections', way, not a 'let you walk home alone at two A.M.' way."
"Fuck you, San."
"I ask and ask, and you keep saying no."
Quinn glowered at her. Rachel was bemused.
"This is your house? I'd assumed it was Puck's."
Santana laughed.
"What's the matter, scared of being in the lair of the beast?"
"No!" she said to Santana, and turned to Quinn, "But won't your Mother mind that we're still here?"
"She's visiting my sister for the weekend. Besides, she's so scared of losing my love again that she'd probably put up with it anyway."
Something Santana had just said finally filtered its way into Rachel's alcohol-befuddled mind.
"Wait!"
"God! What now?" moaned Santana, "And why do have to so fucking shrill? Oww!"
She reached down and rubbed her shin.
"Fucking Hell, I prefer you when you're sober and less likely to stick up for Oompa-Lo-OWW! That was my fucking hand, Q!"
"My foot slipp-OWW!"
"So did mine."
Rachel glared at them.
"Are you two finished?"
"Yes," responded Brittany, before Santana could say anything, "They are."
"Thank you Brittany. Is it really two A.M.?"
Santana glanced at her watch.
"Meh. One-thirty. I guessed you'd want to try and win your clothes back. Of course, you only have two hands worth of clothing left anyway, so good luck with that."
"I have lessons tomorrow!"
"It's Friday night! What lessons could you possibly have tomorrow?"
"Well, dance for one..."
"Have you been going long?" asked Brittany, "Because you should probably sue."
Santana burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. Now Brittany looked bemused.
"That wasn't meant to be a joke."
"Oh, but it was such a good one."
Rachel huffed.
"Can we please get on? Santana was right, I would like to try and win my clothes back."
Brittany's gaze flicked between her and Quinn.
"I'm still not entirely certain how we ended up playing strip poker anyway."
Quinn sighed.
"We're weren't playing strip poker, Britt, you and Santana took all our money and we couldn't cover the bets."
"Natural progression, then."
"Yes."
"Who's deal is it?"
"Yours, Britt."
Brittany gave a small pleased chirrup before taking the deck and dealing out the cards.
9(S) J(S) 8(H)
Santana gaped.
"Mother-Fucker! What are the odds?"
"We have been playing for several hours, Santana."
"Yeah, Berry, but still..."
She shook her head. Brittany carefully placed Rachel's and Quinn's clothes in the centre of the table.
"Your bet, Q."
"Yeah, yeah, just give me a sec, Britt..."
Quinn stared at the cards she'd been given, leaning closer and closer until her eyes closed and her head landed heavily on the table. She shot back up, and glared at her cards.
"Fuck it, fold."
Brittany turned to Rachel.
"Rachel?"
A resigned shrug.
"All-in."
"San?"
The Latina huffed.
"Garbage. Fold. Take her to the cleaners, hun," she said, giving Brittany her best smile. Brittany met it with a raised eyebrow.
Quinn grabbed Brittany's arm.
"Please don't, Britt, I know it's just the four of us now, but hasn't she suffered enough humiliation?"
Rachel's jaw dropped.
"Who are you, and where's Quinn Fabray?"
"I never took you for a pinball wizard, Man-Hands," snorted Santana.
The tiny brunette looked confused.
"Pinball wiz-? Oh, Tommy. Are you calling me deaf, dumb and blind?"
"I'd call you a serious buzz-kill, but we're winding up anyway. Seriously though, you think this is bad," Santana nodded at Quinn, who was giving her best puppy-dog impression to Brittany, "You should see her when she's this drunk and hasn't been having fun all evening. She'd probably be on her knees, begging you for forgiveness from years of torture."
The very drunk blonde whipped round.
"That is not true. I'm not like you when you're begging for Brittany's forgiveness because you've fucked up again."
Santana snarled.
"No, you'd've already got your begging out of the way and be on your knees for a different reason."
Rachel pulled a face.
"Ugh, that's disgusting, Santana."
Brittany shook her head.
"No it isn't," she paused, and cocked her head sideways in thought, "Not after the first time, anyway."
The other three stared at her.
"Well, that had the required effect. No more bets to be placed, shall we get on with it?"
Rachel nodded.
"Yes, lets, it's getting quite cold."
"Sorry," said Quinn, "This was my father's study, and he insisted the heating be kept low enough so that the light from his soul would be enough to warm him."
She sneered.
"So we had to install under-floor cooling."
She laughed. Brittany rolled her eyes, and dealt the Turn.
9(S) J(S) 8(H) K(S)
"Holy shit."
Santana side-eyed her.
"Didn't know you even knew any swear words, Berry."
"I do find myself increasingly in your presence."
"And finally," intoned Brittany, loudly.
9(S) J(S) 8(H) K(S) J(D)
"Oww!"
"I told you to be nice to Rachel!"
"What the fuck, Q?" Santana shot out of her chair, quickly followed by Quinn.
"Sorry, I forgot, you're the only person allowed to hurt her."
"ENOUGH! SIT DOWN!"
The standing two sat down quickly at Brittany's command. Rachel looked scared, she'd never seen the blonde angry before, and it fit surprisingly well. Brittany rubbed her arm.
"That hurt, Quinn."
"Sorry."
"Accepted."
"You accepts hers fine," Santana muttered under her breath. Brittany ignored her.
"If you'd been paying attention, Q, you would've seen that Rachel was actually smiling when I laid down the River. I'm guessing only the cards you can see are the same as earlier."
Quinn looked to Rachel, who nodded, a small smile creeping back onto her features.
"So, let's see them, Rach."
"Not you too," said Santana.
"Shouldn't it be you first? You're the dealer..."
"Please."
"Okay."
10(C) Q(H)
"For fucks sake," said Santana.
Quinn beamed at Brittany.
"So you've got her 7 10 of Diamonds, right B?"
Brittany maintained eye contact with Rachel. Rachel's smile faltered. Brittany looked at her cards.
"Sorry."
She tossed them onto the table.
10(S) Q(S)
Rachel was crestfallen. She looked like she was about to cry.
"Please don't make me..." she said in a very small voice.
"Britt, you can't..."
"Take it off!"
"San!"
"Shit," announced Brittany. She looking at the cards, apparently in annoyance.
"What?" asked Rachel, ever closer to blubbing.
"When I threw the cards down, they hit the discard pile. It counts as a Fold."
She looked up, meeting Rachel's now confused gaze.
"You won."
Rachel looked confused for a second longer, then a massively wide smile erupted onto her face, followed quickly by one on Quinn's. Santana glowered, again.
"You did that deliberately."
Brittany said nothing, merely gathered up the cards, and tossed the clothing pile at Rachel, who quickly divided them up between herself and Quinn. They started to put the clothes on, but then Brittany piped up again.
"I wouldn't bother, let's just go to bed. Your bed can fit four, right Q?"
"Yeah, I guess, but can't we just crash in the living room? I'm too drunk for the stairs."
"Yeah, I'm with you on that one," agreed Santana.
"No, I need a bed."
"Definitely," Rachel added with a nod. Brittany caught her eye as the other two groaned.
"Come on, let's get these two upstairs. You take Santana, I'll take Quinn."
"You're foisting me off on her?"
"Yes."
"Fine, I'm too tired to argue. You'd better not drop me, Oompa-Loompa."
"I'll try my best."
Quinn swung an arm over Brittany's shoulder, and Santana did the same to Rachel. The four of them hobbled out of Quinn's father's study, and up the stairs, Rachel and Quinn with their clothes under their arms. Halfway up, Rachel said to Brittany:
"I suppose if Artie had come, he would've fleeced all of us."
"No, he's lousy at cards. Can't even count them properly."
