'sup. so, this is a Mike/Santana fic for you guys haha they intrigue me, i guess. once again, all of the idea credit goes to Shadesz. i am so uncreative haha enjoy, beautiful raccoons!
Chapter 1: Angles
"Oh my God," I could hear Brittany whisper from down the vacant hallway, clapping her hand over her gaping mouth. Santana had her pinky linked with Brittany's free hand, stifling a giggle. Her snorting bounced and echoed off of the walls. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion as the twelve identical blue slushies came raining down on me, the frozen liquid slapping me in the face. I could feel it trickling down my spine, soaking through the back of my shirt. Dripping on to the floor, the stains trailed through my ripped, blue jeans, creeping through my shoes. I was humiliated, the entire football team sent cracking up down the hallway. My heart pounded in my ears as I looked at Karofsky crossing his arms in front of me. I shook my arms off, freeing them from the icy mess. Enraged, I flung my yellow flannel on to the ground, pushing Karofsky against a bland, red locker.
"What the hell?" I screamed, attempting to pin him down. My feet shuffled under me, trying to keep my balance. Karofsky smirked, grabbing handfuls of my soiled, white undershirt. Brittany and Santana were still watching intently, trying to decode the situation.
"Nothing, lady-boy. It's not my fault you picked the big gay club for dancing...gays over football!" Karofsky spat, moving his face closer, trying to intimidate me. His reeking breath smelled of Doritos and rotten tuna fish. I coughed at the stench, disgust building up inside of me. He shoved me back with gruff hands, making me stumble back toward the other side of the hallway. I ran forward, growling under my breath. I swung my arms out in front of me, my closed fist connecting with Karofsky's face. His head hit against the side of an open locker, a nasty crack escaping his nose. Blood dripped down on to the floor, seeping through Karofsky's fingers, attempting to stop the blood from flowing. Karofsky cried out in the dry school air, whipping his head back.
"YOU'RE DEAD, CHANG!" Karofsky raged, sprinting toward me. The steps echoed through the halls, his sprint slower than my jog. I ducked under his whirling arms, sliding around behind him. Barely dodging his punches, I jumped up and hooked a dirty shoe around Karofsky's calf. Shifting my hands on to his shoulders, I pulled Karofsky to the floor, still frozen with slushie. The "thump" radiated through the hallways, Brittany and Santana clapping rapidly. I stared at my fallen opponent, covered in slushie and blood. He rubbed his hands over his face in defeat, tracking the red liquid over his forehead. He spit, a tooth dropping on to the cold tile. I stood in front of him, my mouth hung open. What had I just done? Santana walked over to me, linked her arm under mine and pulled me away. My feet started to move backward, eyes not moving from Karofsky's pained face. Blood was oozing down his cheeks, leaving tiny puddles near his face. I ran my free hand through my hair, tangled and stuck together. Santana looked up at me, raising her eyebrow.
"That was pretty badass, Chang," Santana said coolly, a sweet smirk toying with her lips. I took a breath, shaking off the fight. Karofsky was going to kill me in my sleep, I just knew it. Brittany copied Santana's movements, grabbing on to my other arm. I just nodded, the words tangling themselves up in my throat.
"I have to clean up," I replied, clearing my throat. I slipped into the bathroom, leaving Santana with a tiny, subtle wink. I didn't know why I did. I didn't like Santana, but she was a girl, and I was studly. I could hear the cheerleaders giggling out in the hallway, mixed in with fast-paced whispers. Groaning, I stared at myself in the mirror, studying every aspect of my slushied self. My black, wet hair stuck messily to my face, sloppily sprawled in every direction. My undershirt was soaked, a light blue color covering the majority, mingling with deep, red splotches of Karofsky's spilled blood. My pants appeared the same way. I looked like I had been painting or something. My hands found my sticky hair, molding it into a dorky mohawk. I didn't know how Puck could wear his hair like that. It made me feel like a wanna-be skater boy. My hands fumbled for the faucet, hot water streaming into the small, marble sink. My eyes never left the mirror, watching my hair flip out of it's goofy position. Shifting to my knees, I started to wash the drying slushie out of my hair, rinsing each strand diligently. Once it was clean enough from my impromptu shower, I dried it gingerly with a paper towel and headed out of the bathroom. I crept down the hallway, careful not to make too much noise. I didn't know if Karofsky was waiting for me for a second round of fighting. I doubted it, especially with a broken nose. I headed back to the crime scene, scanning over the damage I had done. The floor looked like it had been mopped with blue slushie. Small piles of ice clustered together, a stream of blue juice trailing down the hallway. It filled the cracks in the tiled floors, drying in it's position.
"Damn," A harsh whisper behind me groaned, startling me. I nearly broke my neck whipping around to the source of the noise. My hand flew up to my chest.
"Santana," I breathed, glancing at the cheerleader in front of me. She was balancing on one foot, examining the bottom of her white shoe. It had a huge, blue blotch marking the center, taking up most of her foot. Bouncing on her tired leg, Santana's ponytail swung from side to side, occasionally hitting her in the face. I rushed over to her, her foot slipping out from under her. I caught her in my bruised arms, both of them curling under Santana's upper back. Her face contorted in fake anger, acting like she didn't need my help.
"I would have been perfectly fine. You didn't need to 'rescue' me," Santana snapped, making air quotes around "rescue". I pushed her back on to her feet, scoffing. Santana smoothed the skirt of her cheerleading uniform, her arms folding across her chest, "Just because I thought your fighting was cool, doesn't mean I'm into you, Chang." Santana's eyebrow was raised in it's usual "I'm better than you" position.
I scoffed again, "Did you want to fall and break your face? I didn't think so. I was just helping you up. Relax, Lopez," I emphasized her last name, snarling like Santana did for mine. Santana rolled her eyes at me, shifting her weight to her left foot.
"What's your angle?" Santana squinted, watching my facial expressions carefully. I mimicked her position jokingly.
"What's your angle?" I asked, squinting back at her. We were both silent for a few seconds, Santana's lips quivering. Santana broke her serious expression, shaking with laughter. She bent over, grabbing on to her knees. We were both cracking up, gasping for air. Once the laughing subsided, Santana went back to how she was, her face composed.
"You tell no one of this," Santana warned, pointing a finger at me. A tiny smile was curling the sides of her lips.
"Pinky promise," I replied, sticking out my pinky to her. Santana accepted my offer, linking us together for a split second. Clearing her throat, she bent over, searching for something in her purse. She tossed me my bright yellow flannel.
"This was in the hallway. I didn't think you wanted to lose it," Santana smiled, flashing me all of her teeth, "See you later." She left me in the hallway with that, leaving the school. It was after glee club and football practice, so I didn't really know why I was there. I didn't know why, but I wanted to see Santana more. I was mixed up. All I needed to do then was protect my throat, because Karofsky was going to come after it, one way or another.
short, i know. more soon! this will indeed, be a multi-chapter fic. (i love you guys!)