Everyone familiar with a sitcom? Consider this like a pilot.
Too occupied ogling herself in the mirror, Santana Lopez didn't notice the curly-haired reporter until it was too late.
"Lopez! Care to comment on the recent split?" The timid boy asked, inching closer to the girl's turned back.
Irritated at the disruption of her "me" time, Santana slammed her locker closed hard enough to catch the attention of a couple of kids down the hall, to which she gave her most disgruntled look before twirling around to address the boy behind her who was a little too close for comfort and whose eyes immediately fell to her chest.
"A: You've got about half a second to get all up out my grill before shove that microphone down your esophagus and make you listen to the sound of your little buddies drying up due to inactivity."
The boy immediately took a step back.
"B: What the hell are you blabbering about Jewfro?" With a hand to his face, she cut him off before he could elaborate. "And C: It doesn't matter, because I've already lost interest in this conversation." With a whip of her cheerio's pony, she began making her way in the opposite direction.
Averting his attention to his cameraman, the Jewish boy blanched at the flop of an interview. "Uhh…Ms. Lopez is not available to comment at this time."
And just then, one Rachel Berry happened by, in the same direction Santana had earlier strode down. "But! I'm sure Captain of the Glee Club, Rachel Berry, would love to comment on today's hottest story." His eyes sparkled with the opportunity to spread gossip, as he bomb rushed the unsuspecting songbird
With a dramatic sigh, Rachel addressed the boy now standing in her way. "Jacob, I really cannot partake in any interview at the moment, I'm running late for Glee as is. And as captain, it is really not good showmanship to be tardy."
"We won't be long! The people would just like to hear your opinion on the recent split: what went wrong with McKinley's happiest couple?"
Rachel's eyes lit up with her smile as the boy shoved the microphone closer to her face.
Strolling into the choir room, fashionably late as always, Santana was surprised to notice several of the Gleeks missing. Mr. Shue had yet to arrive, but that was hardly a surprise. Wheels was a no-show at the moment. Probably got knocked over in the hall like those old women in the life alert commercials. She snickered to herself at that thought. The overgrown man-child walked in behind her with fishlips and Aretha, whispering amongst themselves about something she couldn't be bothered to threaten out of them.
She squinted at the group when she realized the hobbit had not walked in with them. Though she'd never admit it, she was always hyperaware of the girl's presence. But not because she liked her. Absolutely not.
Long ago, Santana had come to the conclusion that Rachel Berry was her one true nemesis.
Rachel Berry was like the itch she could never scratch, the pain in her ass; the bane of her entire existence.
They'd met in the 5th grade and it had all went down hill from there. They had been down each other's throat since Rachel had tried to dethrone her as 'Queen of the Playground' a title Santana had been quite proud of. Declaring she had superior grades and could sing better than everyone in their grade, it was only right that she was the queen. They had fought about it for weeks.
From that moment on they had competed for any and everything; grades, attention, roles, clubs, positions, even friends (although Santana's fairly certain her status as a Cheerio guaranteed that for her).
Always prepared to show up the songstress at any given moment, Santana had become frighteningly aware when the girl was around or not.
Deciding against sitting with any of those that had decided to show up on time, she took her usual seat next to Brittany, surprised the girl had beat her here. Doing a quick glance around the room, she sneered when she took notice of the empty seats furthest from her left. One belonged to her home girl Quinn, whose absence she was immediately aware of upon entering the room, and the other to the other thorn in her side.
Sugar Motta.
If there was anybody that she hated more than Manhands Berry, it was the talentless, waste of space, Sugar Motta. She absolutely loathed that girl. She was the dimmest, brattiest, most self-absorbed person Santana had ever come across in her life, and being in Glee Club, that was saying a lot. She was sure the only reason the girl had gotten in the club was because her parents had paid her way in.
Which was, come on its Glee Club, that's just pathetic.
Santana shook her head as she thought about the girl.
Those were all the reasons Santana hated Sugar Motta. But there was one reason that she loathed the girl entirely. Above all else, Sugar Motta had gotten her grubby grasp on the one thing that Santana Lopez had always wanted but never had.
And she loathed her for it.
Speaking of the devil.
To Santana's utter dismay, Sugar Motta walked through the door. To her utter surprise, the girl walked in alone. (And to her utter delight, the girl seemed far from her usual chipper self). The hushed whispers that had been going on around her suddenly dispersed as Sugar made her way to her usual seat.
"Do you think the rumors are true?" Brittany whispered in her ear. Having been in her head for the majority of the time she was sitting next to her girl, Santana had no idea what the girl was referring to.
Before she could ask for clarification, Mr. Shue finally decided to announce his presence as he walked in, Rachel hot on his heels.
She couldn't help but notice the chirpy smile on the girl's face as she walked past her to take her seat behind her.
It made her stomach churn.
"Sorry I'm late guys! But let's just get on it, huh?" Shuester started. "Let's think Nationals! We need song ideas."
To absolutely no one's surprise, Rachel's hand shot in the air.
They spent the next ten minutes trying to shoot down the girl's insistence to perfume yet another Journey song. All the while, Santana couldn't help but notice the obvious (at least to her) absence of one Quinn Fabray. Just as she began to pull out her phone to demand why the blonde had decided to ditch and not invited her, the aforementioned girl came shuffling through the choir room door.
The arguing amongst the room came to an eerie halt as the singers all turned their attention to Quinn who, with her cheerio's hood covering her head, quietly made her way to the stands, head unusually bowed.
She seemed…somber.
"Nice of you to join us Quinn," Mr. Shue remarked regarding the girl's tardiness, "We're just gearing up for nationals!" the instructor continued, decidedly oblivious to the girl's solemn appearance.
"Sorry, Mr. Shue" was the only response the man got and needed as he nodded his head and continued on.
Santana stared the girl down as she made her way to sit down, silently hoping her captain would look up so she could make eye contact. Her eyes widened considerably, as did those of her fellow gleeks (save Berry, she noted), when Quinn opted out of her usual seat next to Sugar Motta in the back, instead taking the one on the furthest end of the front row.
Santana couldn't help glancing back at Sugar to see her reaction (she also couldn't help the giddiness she felt at the downcast look on the girl's face.)
There was definitely trouble in paradise.
Everyone seemed to get over the initial shock of Sinn's (as Sugar had disgustingly dubbed the couple) separate seating quickly as they once again tried to keep Rachel from dominating the National's set list.
"The rumors are totally true" Brittany whispered in Santana's ear once again. "Look, they didn't even sit together."
Finally catching on to what Brittany had been trying to tell her earlier, Santana responded, "Yeah something's definitely up with Brangelina over there. I haven't seen those two NOT make nasty frog eyes at each other all year. It's been a challenge keeping my breakfast in my stomach for just as long." The bitterness behind the sentiment had not been intentional.
"Everybody's talking about it. Apparently something big went down yesterday, but neither of them are saying anything."
"Then how does anyone know something 'big' went down?" Santana snarked, just as curious herself.
"Hmm, I don't know, San. Maybe the stork on my roof had babies and they told everyone. You can learn a lot from little birds. Everyone knows it's something, just not what."
"Maybe Q finally saw Motta without all that gunk smeared on her face and is trying to figure out how she's possibly going to wake up next to that for the next 3 years." Santana sniped.
"You thought they'd only last 3 years after graduation?"
"Hell yeah. My girl's going to be somebody someday, and Motta, while she may have the funds, doesn't exactly have the face or body of the ideal trophy wife. Q's bound to figure that out at some point in college. Bitch doesn't even cook and we all know how Quinn feels about her bacon."
Santana had the displeasure of learning all the dos and do nots of Sugar Motta via Quinn. The couple had been together since the end of their junior year and had been joined like Siamese twins since. Despite how unwilling her audience was, Quinn had always felt compelled to tell her best frienemy the going-ons within her relationship with Sugar.
Like how the girl won't touch a stove, but always kept her laughing. How she lacks tact (the Fabrays had been less than impressed when introduced) but she knew exactly what to do to cheer Quinn up. How the girl was quite demanding in bed, but her willingness to experiment made up for it.
Santana had always suspected Quinn was a freak.
It sickened her how sprung Quinn was for the girl and she hated hearing about it.
Santana assumes it was karma for making Quinn suffer through the brief escapades of what was formally known as Brittana. A part of her always hated that Brittany had made that up and spread it. She likes to think that it was part of the reason she and Brittany didn't work out.
There was a moment of silence as Brittany pondered Santana's comment, "I can cook Quinn bacon!"
Long since used to the way conversations tended to deviate with Brittany, Santana took the exclamation in stride. "Of course you can, and probably a million times better than prissy pants over there. You'd probably tickle her pickle better, too." She smirked.
"Nah San, I tried. I don't think Quinn's pickle likes my tickles."
Santana's smirk dropped as she just stared at the girl for a second. That one had threw her off a bit.
Before she could get some clarification on what exactly the girl meant by the comment, the last member of the group rolled in.
"Artie, glad to see you," Mr. Shue could hardly contain his eye roll at being interrupted yet again.
The boy, intending to roll to his usual spot, took a sharp-turn when he saw Quinn sitting next to it. In obvious avoidance of the blonde cheerio, he wheeled himself over to the other end, sitting next to the blonde cheerio who was likely to be more pleasant towards him.
"Now wheels is acting like Quinn broke his brakes…again." Santana murmured to herself, "What the hell is going on?" The last time the boy had been actively avoiding Quinn like the plague was after he had serenaded her girlfriend during glee with a Bruno Mars song, encouraged by the crush everyone knew he held for Sugar. Quinn has always had an ugly green monster on her back. Also, she hated Bruno Mars. Obviously, she hadn't reacted to well to the song. It ended in Artie needing to learn to adjust to a new wheelchair.
"Yo wheels" She called to the boy sitting on the other side of Brittany "You're looking more squirrelish than usual. What's got your panties in a twist?"
"I-I'm perfectly fine, Santana. Just got pushed over by some hockey players on the way here, is all. I appreciate the concern though." He smiled.
Santana had mastered the art of fake smiles when she was 13 and successfully convincing her parents the bruise on her neck came from her curling iron. It was a skill that had come in handy many times, from getting her dad to pay for her boobjob to convincing Quinn that joining Glee Club was a surefire way to spy on her then boyfriend Finn Hudson sophomore year. She hadn't actually had two shits to give for the overgrown man-child and was more interested in finding yet another way to outshine his now ex-fiancé.
Santana could spot a fake smile a mile away. And Artie's smile was as fake as Tina's blue eyes.
Artie was lying and her Mexican-third eye told her his busted nerves had something to do with Quinn and Sugar (she refused to ever call them Sinn. Just no.)
Santana had hoped to catch Quinn after glee to grill her on what was wrong and why she hadn't told her, but the blonde had run out of the room so fast one would think that Sue Sylvester was running behind her with her bullhorn. At this point, she'd have a better chance corning the girl after Cheerios practice.
Walking to practice with Brittany in tow, the subject matter came up between the two again.
"I talked to Sugar and she's really sad, San." The girl looked like someone had just kicked Lord Tubbington. She had a weird ability to empathize with everyone and more often than not the girl found herself sharing in her friends' pain.
"Well Q didn't look so hot either. She ran out of glee like a bat out of hell. Did Motta tell you anything?" the brunette inquired.
"No, she wouldn't tell me what happened or what the 'big thing' is. But she's really upset that Quinn doesn't want to be her boyfriend anymore. I told her it was probably because Quinn's never really liked candy that much and that if she's really lonely then she should call Puck because he's always staring down her shirt."
"Please, Puck would fuck anything with legs, and they don't even have to work." Santana rolled her eyes.
"Wait" Santana stopped walking, "Did you say Quinn doesn't want to be with Sugar anymore? As in, they're donezo?" She decidedly ignored the pang of hope in her chest.
"Yeah, San. Everyone knows that. It's even on Jacob's site" Brittany said as she forced Santana to start walking again.
"Is that what the troll doll was blabbering about this morning?" She questioned then smirked. "Well, Q-ball finally grew a pair and threw daddy's little girl to the curb."
"Yup, and now they're both depressed. Ooooh, I wonder if they would do an interview on Fondue for Two" Brittany squealed at the prospect.
"It's about time." Santana whispered, ignoring her blonde partner-in-crime.