Author's Note: If you like what you read even a fraction of how much fun I had writing Santana (it's my first time writing her like this), I'll be pretty happy. Spoilers for the entire first season, I guess.
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.
Here are some things you should know about Santana Lopez:
1. She is Head Cheerio. This means she's automatically better than you. Know it. Love it. Do not question it.
2. Brittany is her best friend. You can look but you cannot touch and don't even think of making fun of her. Sure Brit-Brit's a bit dim but the last time someone said something about it in front of Santana she ruined his life and now that he transferred, the lacrosse team is short one goalie. He's in therapy and is improving every day.
3. She is not, repeat, not a gleek. Yes, she's in glee. She likes singing, okay? And yes, they went to Regionals and she totally had some lines in one song, but she is not a gleek and she is certainly not friends with them. Any of them.
It's morning in late June and Santana is jogging along a wooded path to the beat of the music on her iPod. There are no songs from glee on her playlist. Okay, there are one or two songs from glee in there.
Fine, six plus Don't Stop Believin' because what if they sing it again at Invitationals?
Santana is currently on her fifth mile because although school's out and she no longer has to put up with Coach Sue's disgusting cayenne pepper drinks, she has cheer camp in August.
Suddenly, she can make out a figure in the distance. It's clad in a pink tracksuit jogging towards her.
She's blonde.
She's Quinn.
Crap.
There's nowhere to hide and besides she's already spotted her and gave her a slight wave, so Santana slows to a stop and waits for Quinn to catch up.
"Hey," Quinn says, a little out of breath.
She is sweaty and not wearing any makeup which makes her look about 12.
It's sad, really.
Santana herself is not wearing any makeup but is wearing a tiny pair of shorts and a sports bra. She's been whistled at by three passing motorists today which isn't her record but she still has two more miles and a trip to the smoothie place planned.
"Hey. I didn't know you liked to work out in the morning."
"Yeah, I—I figure I should get rid of this baby weight."
Santana looks Quinn up and down, and she really has to hand it to the ex-Cheerio. She doesn't squirm the way most people would.
"Yeah, you should."
And then Quinn does that thing she's been perfecting lately which is to look all doe-eyed and scrunch her nose up a bit and Santana remembers that the girl had a freaking fetus gestating in her for nine months then pushed it out at Regionals.
All while wearing that really fucking ugly Bump-It Berry probably bought in bulk at one of those grody discount warehouses.
Santana feels something heavy and dark settle at the pit of her stomach. It's not guilt, though. It's probably just her granola bar from this morning.
"Are you coming to cheer camp?" Santana asks. It's the closest thing to 'sorry' she can think of.
"Probably not. The tuition check was due last week wasn't it? And I'm not sure I can still do round-offs after…"
"Oh. Okay. Maybe next year?"
Quinn smirks. "Scoping out competition for Head Cheerleader?"
Santana crosses her arms in front of her. "Please," she scowls. "Anyways, good luck or whatever." She starts to jog away.
"Wait! Did you wanna hang out or something?"
And here's the thing. Santana freaking loves Quinn's house. It's this huge Tudor-style place with dark wood interiors, Oriental rugs, and it even smells like old money. And Santana loves money. Also, the Fabray's housekeeper makes the best peanut butter cookies.
She doesn't miss Quinn, or anything.
"Will there be those cookies?" She already worked out today, she can have a freaking cookie, right?
"I think I can scrounge some up," Quinn smiles.
So they totally end up at Quinn's place sitting on the floor of the living room (it's a much more relaxed atmosphere now that her dad moved out) flipping through her mom's old Harper's Bazaars and eating cookies and making snarky comments about stick-thin models.
It was pretty fun actually. Felt like old times. Well, minus the talk about Jesus and celibacy and Finn, for which Santana is thankful.
Brittany and Santana are…they're not girlfriends. They aren't lesbians or anything, like, you'd never find either them listening to kd lang and getting butch haircuts. They're just really good friends that make out sometimes at parties, or after school, or to make boys buy them dinner. Besides, the second Santana is macked on by a hot guy she'll totally drop Brittany and go make out with him instead.
So why is she in Brittany's pink and purple bedroom making out with her on the bed when the cute guy at the mall gave her his number?
Actually, it doesn't really matter right now because Brittany is going on and on about how her mom bought her a set of lip glosses that are different flavors for each day of the week. And, you know, to get her to shut up Santana has to kiss her. So she presses her lips on Brittany's and swipes her tongue against her bottom lip.
Huh. Watermelon is for Mondays.
After shoving a stuffed unicorn out of the way she's half on top of Brittany and Brittany's hands are hiking up her skirt.
"Hey Santana?" Brittany asks, pulling away. "Is it Monday?"
"Is that what the watermelon flavor is for?"
"Yeah, but doesn't my underwear say Friday? They're telling me different things. It's…confusing."
"Well, let's find out," Santana says and starts to remove her panties.
Later, Santana is hurriedly putting her skirt back on because she has an appointment for a manicure to get to. Besides, she can't hang around all day at Brittany's finding places to hide her diary where her cat can't find it.
Only, when she looks back at Brittany she's slowly reapplying her shiny pink gloss in a tiny mirror on her dresser. Over her shoulder she sees Santana and gives her a little smile, blue eyes sparkling.
Oh, what the hell. Her nails look fine anyways.
"Hey, Brit. You wanna get a burger? I'll buy."
Next week, she's at the local makeup place trying on perfumes. She can't decide between Lurid and Enticement. While going up the counter to ask for more testing strips, she sees him.
He's in the makeup section, wearing giant Jackie-O sunglasses and is hiding behind the collar of a trench coat even though it's 90 degrees out. Kurt Hummel completely fails at being inconspicuous.
As Santana can see, he also fails at picking out the right shade of concealer.
She walks up to him, taps him on the shoulder and ignores how he jumps like the zombie of Coco Chanel herself lumbered up to him.
"Are you seriously going to get that shade?"
"It matches my skin tone," Kurt sniffs.
Santana rolls her eyes. "It does not. You're a Light, not a Medium."
"I got a tan!"
"You're as pale as ever Hummel, I'm telling you you're a Light. And you're not even using the right brush. You can't use an angled brush for concealer, it goes on too heavy. " Seriously, does she have to do everything around here?
She takes out a smaller rounded brush from the display, and before he can say anything she angles his face towards the light, dabs on the liquid and begins blending with her fingers. Once done she lets him look at himself in the mirror.
"There. Much better."
"Oh. You're right. Thanks."
"No problem," Santana answers. She makes to leave but Kurt calls out to her again.
"Neither, by the way."
"What?"
"I saw you over there trying to decide which scent to get. And I could smell the stench from over here. You smell like cheap perfume, bubblegum and despair. Channeling Britney Spears, are we?"
"Whatever,"Santana says. But she doesn't buy either one of them.
"Hey, do you want to go to Macy's with me? They don't carry Dior products in here and Mercedes is meeting me at the pizza place later."
Santana shrugs. She could think of worse ways to spend a summer afternoon than to hang around a makeup counter with the Mayor of Gaytown and his Chief Administrative Diva.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll go with you."
But this doesn't mean I'm friends with you, she thinks to herself.
Later that night she's at the video store because there is nothing to do in this damn cow town and oh my god, what she would give to have even one good nightclub around here.
She's trying to decide between 9 ½ weeks and Basic Instinct when she hears two familiar voices arguing in the next row over.
"The original is what started it all and it's totally the best."
"You are so wrong, Tee. Dream Warriors had amazing special effects—"
A scoff.
"-for the time and it has the best lines! 'Welcome to Prime Time, bitch!' Genius."
Oh my god, these two dweebs are debating horror movies in video store like some kind of self-referential movie that was hip in the 90s.
Santana must have snorted really loud because before she knows it, the goth chick turns towards her, eyes wide.
"Oh, hey Santana," she says timidly.
It feels like being back at school again, having someone be petrified of her.
But Tina's pretty okay, actually, if a little too quiet and totally freaky with her weird hair and Victorian vampire schoolgirl outfits. So she puts down her DVDs and goes over to the other side, and of course Morticia Addams is here with her very own Gomez if Gomez dressed like Mr. Rogers and was in a wheelchair.
"We were trying to decide on whether to get Nightmare on Elm Street 1 or 3," Artie says. Santana must be losing her touch because this guy doesn't seem fazed by her at all.
"Which one do you think?"
"Ugh. Neither. Horror movies are so lame. Spoiler alert, everyone dies and there's a lackluster sequel that the actors don't even want on their resume."
Right, she totally badmouthed their movie choices so she doesn't exactly know how she ends up at Tina's place with Artie and a huge bowl of popcorn. It's like that time the Bloomie's two towns over had a major sale and she blacked out and somehow ended up back at home with like, seven bags full of discounted designer clothes and some fugly pairs of shoes she never wore again.
In any case, it looks like they couldn't decide on a movie so Tina busts out some of her own DVDs. With practiced, seemingly choreographed movements Tina and Artie work together to move the couch a little, push the coffee table back and center the TV and speakers so that Artie can move himself onto the couch next to Tina.
Santana takes the overstuffed chair and ottoman and settles herself down.
They watch some episodes of this show with like, FBI agents that hunt aliens and ghosts or whatever, but it's actually not that bad. The episode they're watching now has a young Luke Wilson, pre-bloat and embarrassing cell phone commercials.
When she scoots up to help herself to more popcorn (she made Tina pop a bag of unbuttered for herself), she sees the couple out of the corner of her eye.
He's taken her hand and is smiling right at Tina when he gently uncurls her fingers and places a little kiss on her palm.
It makes something in her heart ache, as no boy has ever looked at her like that before. She silently vows to be nicer to Brittany.
Seeing the two geeks be all lovey-dovey with each other is still gross though. She'll vomit right in her designer shoes if they start making out in front of her. But they don't. Tina sprinkles some popcorn on a napkin, places it between her and Artie and smiles at Santana.
"You look confused," she says.
"I kind of have no idea what's going on with these two," Santana answers.
"Okay. So. Like, five seasons ago the red head, that's Scully, she was assigned to Mulder to debunk his theories 'cause he believes in aliens and stuff and everyone thinks he's nuts..." Tina goes on to explain everything but Santana lost her sometime around Mr. X and 'black oil' so she goes back to watching the show.
Then one more episode turns into two, and when Santana decides to ask Tina or Artie what the hell is up with the faceless dudes, she finds them asleep.
They're curled up together actually, with Tina coiled around Artie like a housecat. He's resting his chin against the top of her head, and the quilt they've been sharing is falling off the couch.
So Santana re-drapes the quilt over them both and thank god it's like 1 in the morning, 'cause she doesn't want to be seen leaving a gleek's house.
But she does slip the remaining discs of the season into her purse.
A couple weeks later, Lima is in the middle of a serious heat wave and Santana is at her computer trying to ignore how her tank top is sticking to her skin.
In her inbox she sees a reminder for an e-vite sent out several days ago. It's for a pool party at Berry's and it looks like all the gleeks (yes, even Puck) have RSVP'd.
Of course, the second her cursor is hovering over "Will Not Attend" her doorbell rings.
It's Brittany. It's Brittany who is dressed in a super hot red bikini, a tiny sarong and hot pink floaties.
"Oh, hey, Santana, are you ready? I would have gotten here earlier, but I got lost," Brittany says.
"Brit, you've been here a million times."
Brittany shrugs.
"Anyways, are you ready?"
"For what?" Santana says suspiciously. She knows where this is going and she doesn't like it.
"The pool party! It'll be fun! Puck says he's gonna bring some beer and wine coolers."
"First of all, do not drink wine coolers with Puck. You're gonna end up preggers and you and Puck would have the dumbest babies like, ever. Second of all, why would you think I'm going?"
"But-," Brittany starts. She's making that sad puppy look at Santana again. "They're our friends, and I look awesome in my new bikini."
Friends. Huh.
Santana never really had that many friends, and she wonders if what happened the last couple of weeks is what having friends is like. Hanging out, going to the mall, watching movies, not being paranoid that someone will stab you in the back to get into Coach Sue's good graces.
And she has to admit, it's been fun.
"Well," Santana starts, eyes raking over Brittany. Brittany smiles happily. "You do look pretty hot today. I'll go get my stuff."
She gathers up her things and links pinkies with Brit as they make their way to Santana's car in the sweltering heat.
The fourth thing you should know about Santana Lopez is that she has amazing friends.
But if Rachel interrupts her tanning with showtunes, she will not be held resposible for what happens.
A/N Part Deux: Anyone who has read my other stuff will not be surprised to see that included Artie and Tina is this. I can't help myself, haha. =) All reviews get invited to the pool party ;)