A/N: Title taken from Naya Rivera's overuse of the phrase in her tweets. All credit for the characters goes to FOX. There WILL be quite a bit of swearing and sexual references, so keep that in mind. Chapters will be written in a variety of styles (past, present, 3rd person, 1st, diary entries, etc.). Please review and let me know what you think! The more in-depth, the better.
Ep. 01 - Pilot
Coach Sylvester doesn't believe in seniority ("Age is just a marker for how much longer you ovulate—except in the case of one Sue Sylvester. All that feminine 'natural biology' crap was holding me down, so I replaced my ovaries with aluminum spheres that numb my nerves with periodic electric shocks. I no longer feel pain."). So Quinn Fabray, despite being a sophomore, is captain of the Cheerios.
And Santana?
Well, Santana Lopez is royally pissed.
Her tryout was far superior, in her own opinion, and since there's no co-captain position of the squad (Coach Sylvester thinks sharing power only leads to failure—"Look at what happened to Britain after they abolished absolutism: now they're just a bunch of tea-sucking nancies with no oral hygiene.") she's forced to follow Quinn around like she's just the bitchy, slutty best friend…kind of like Samantha from Sex and the City, only Santana's way hotter and not too old to be having sex on car hoods.
Of course, Santana is thoroughly opposed to anyone calling her a slut. The last person who did that was the first string wide receiver Greg Linder. It was during one of the post-game parties at someone's house; Santana had just hooked up with him randomly and then, within five minutes, was grinding with Puck by the pool, her judgment and vision muddled by the Jose Cuervo she'd been shooting. When he said it, Santana made up something about him moaning Tony Felderman's name while they were making out, and he left the party in anger. But of course she wasn't done there. That next week she "accidentally" hit him in the eye with her brother's Airsoft gun.
Today, Greg Linder is the statistician for the Titans, though he often gets hit in the head with footballs due to his lack of depth perception when Finn Hudson's passes fly off course (which is all the time).
Sure, she likes having sex and does it a lot, but nobody—nobody—calls Santana Lopez a slut. Or skank, or whore, or ho, or even a slore (Why people would even want to use a term coined by Kim Kardashian, Santana will never know—because, seriously, the bitch looks like Megan Fox with Down's Syndrome). Plus Brittany has made out with everyone and their brother and their sister and nobody mentions it to her…but that's probably because Brittany thinks Hades is "that place with the earthquakes" and Santana would fuck their lives twice over if anyone messed with her BFF-with-benefits.
Even though Santana is resigned to the second-in-command right now, she does an outstanding job of staying on Coach's good side, and she knows that if anything were to happen to Quinn, she would be promoted to captain in an instant. So she lords her status over people, especially those freaks like Rachel Berry, a.k.a. "Barbra Streisand 2.0." Santana isn't sure exactly which ethnicity that girl—or guy—is exactly, but she's pretty sure that she's at least part Jewish, and so she wonders why she and her two gay dads wouldn't have the money to afford plastic surgery for that hideous nose.
One day after school while Coach Sylvester is having some satellite interview with some guy about some pirates in Africa or something, Quinn brings out her laptop. They're supposed to be stretching, but come on—they were on FOX Sports. They can afford a little time to laugh at Berry's latest MySpace video.
This time, it's her singing some song from yet another Broadway musical, with a hilariously arrogant description followed by a digital icon of a star:
I'm using this song to audition for my school's glee club this week. It's "On My Own" from Les Misérables, one of the many songs I plan on performing when I make it to the Great White Way and begin my one-woman musical revue "Berry On Berry." Suggestions for improvement are usually not helpful (as most of you probably lack my sixteen years of training and artistic success), but appreciated all the same!
That in itself is enough to send the Cheerios into fits of malicious giggles. Quinn is the first to comment with "If I were your parents, I would sell you back," and then Santana logs in to her account and posts something as well: "I'm going to scratch out my eyes."
…Not her ears, though, because Berry is actually pretty good. Jew nose, questionable gender, and argyle animal fetish aside, she has talent.
Apparently Mr. Schuester, the Spanish teacher, is leaving because his wife's pregnant—and, despite all her snarky comments, Santana's pretty disappointed to see him go…even though he pissed her off on her first day of high school by automatically assuming she already spoke Spanish—which wouldn't be that bad because everyone does it and Santana's grown used to it, but then he asked her for a spoken demonstration, which she failed miserably and then proceeded to look like a complete and total bitch when she snapped at him.
Racism aside, Will Schuester is probably the biggest TILF ("'Teacher I'd Like to Fuck.'" Seriously, is everyone I know stuck in another decade?") at WMHS and Santana would do him in a second if liability laws didn't suck so much.
So she is kind of disappointed that her classroom eye candy is leaving…but at least it means that that glee club "Nude Erections" won't ever be able to get off the ground and infect the hallways with disgustingly catchy song and dance numbers. Santana likes music and everything (and is a pretty damn good singer to boot), but showtunes aren't exactly her thing. The first and last Broadway show she saw was Little Shop of Horrors and she was scarred for life when her older brother dropped a bunch of garden hose wrapped around a plastic hand from the roof when she was outside playing. She's been deathly afraid of large plants ever since.
One day after hearing about Schue's impending retirement, Quinn freaks out when Finn doesn't show up to Celibacy Club that afternoon. Santana rolls her eyes—he probably hit his head on some rafter and is lying unconscious, because he really is that tall and uncoordinated—but she follows Quinn all the same, desperate to get out of running the meeting in the absence of "Our Most Saintly Mother the Virginal President." (She knows that no one in that room except Quinn is actually a virgin, anyway.)
She tells Brittany to keep it under control, but she's too busy trying to figure out what the square root of four is, so Santana knows nothing will end up getting done. (The next day, when they're hastily filling in homework before class, Santana sees that Brittany had ended up drawing a rainbow for the answer.)
Santana follows Quinn up the stairs where Finn has his last class of the day, but the door is locked and there's no one there. Quinn is about call him and royally bitch his ass out (which Santana would love to see because Finn Hudson is the definition of "whipped"), but down the hallway a tall, imposing figure in a tracksuit catches their eyes: Coach Sylvester. She's standing on one of the landings that look out over the auditorium, and in the silence, Santana can hear a faint chorus of voices singing "da" over and over to a very familiar tune.
"Ladies," the woman says suddenly, sensing their presence by means unknown. She doesn't even turn around, just beckons them over with her hand, the rest of her body frozen stock still in horror and anger. She kind of reminds Santana of a lioness, but with a bigger chin and more wrinkles. And, you know, less hair.
The two Cheerios walk over to her and peer over the railing; down below they see six kids in red shirts performing "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey. There's the flaming Kurt Hummel (Puck's favorite dumpster tossing target), Mercedes Jones (who's enough of an angry black woman to run Medea out of business), some Asian girl, that wheelchair kid, Manhands Berry, and…Finn?
Looking over at her coach, Santana can see that she's horrified and probably already plotting a way to stop an incident like this from ever happening again. Quinn is watching with her mouth hanging open, probably amazed that one, her boyfriend can sing, and two, that he's currently dancing around and having obvious eye sex with the transvestite. Santana notices once again that Berry is really good, although she still has to fight to hold back the bile that's rising thanks to the Disney-level optimism all these freaks are channeling.
But still, she thinks as the last notes echo on the stage and kids drop their heads, it would probably be fun if it didn't come with a guarantee of twice-a-day slushie facials. Many of which she will most definitely be dishing out tomorrow.