1500 words featuring drinking and drunken antics of New Directions.
and Brittana. kind of. mostly drunk Santana. First posted to tumblr (certifiable-insanity).
Trying out writing in present tense. …it feels odd.
Finn, Santana realizes, is completely unable to hold his liquor.
The story went like this: Nationals this year was held in Florida, the land of old people and alligators. While bussing it around the city, they had made an 'I Spy' game out of seeing who could spot the most number of elderly folks. It had been surprising (and oddly satisfying) to watch Quinn bounce up and down in her seat whilst calling out excitedly, "Old lady sunbathing by her pool! That's thirty points!"
Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury were doing their own little form of celebrating (Santana shudders to even think of it), and courtesy of Puck and a chair, they wouldn't be able to make it out of their room till the teenagers made it back to the Hotel.
It is surprisingly Rachel's idea that they celebrate this momentous occasion by partaking in dance floors, flashing lights and some alcohol.
Her words, not Santana's.
Unfortunately for them, aside from a handful who have participated in decidedly illegal underage activities, they are barred from the clubs because they have no IDs. So Puck takes it upon himself to go into a 7-Eleven and come out with a 24 can box of beer, and they hightail it back to the hotel, twirling and singing (though the latter was mostly on Rachel Berry's part) all the way.
Not even nearly being run over by a particularly crabby old man in his beat up old car could dampen their spirits. If anything, it makes them laugh all the harder.
About thirty minutes in, they give up on walking, choosing instead to sit on the sidewalk and talk about what had been their best year of High School.
Or, rather, they try to talk. Talking seriously is hard when they're buzzed on alcohol and high on life, and when Finn suddenly breaks into a bawdy song that he probably made up the lyrics to, they give up on it altogether.
A drunk Puck is a loquacious and eloquent Puck, as they find out when he begins composing poems to various girls' behinds. He rhymes about Rachel's legs, laments about Quinn's ass and, to Santana's everlasting horror, sighs over Lauren's chest.
As though things are not bad enough, Mike takes it upon himself to do an interpretive dance to each of Puck's poems while Mercedes claps out a beat. Brittany would have joined in, if not for Santana holding on very tightly to her waist. As it were, she gets dragged a few feet before Brittany settles down again, pouting slightly. Santana forces herself to ignore the pout, pressing a new can of beer into Brittany's hands and encouraging her to drink up.
Drunk sex is the best kind of sex, as Santana found out before, so tonight she is going to get some even if she has to put up with being cursed at.
Besides, she isn't drunk. She is as sober as Finn is drunk. And Brittany smelled really good right now. Her hair was also looking particularly lovely, prompting Santana to bury her face in blonde locks and inhale deeply through her nose.
(She once tried breathing deep through her mouth- That hadn't worked out too well.)
"You smell amazing," She tells Brittany's hair seriously, reaching up with one hand to pet it lovingly. There were probably rainbows and unicorns in it. "I love you."
"I love you too, San!" Brittany chirps, before her face contorts in confusion. "Wait, were you talking to me?" Santana doesn't reply, choosing to snuggle closer and place a kiss on the smooth skin that suddenly made an appearance under the magical rainbow unicorn hair.
It is close to three in the morning before someone throws something- Santana thinks it may have been a plastic bottle- at them, adding his screechy voice to theirs and telling them to 'kindly get the fuck lost' before he calls the cops.
Rachel thanks him for being polite before hauling everyone up onto their feet, and they start staggering their way back to the hotel.
Most of them, that is. Finn leads them all, frolicking happily at the front of the group, still singing about getting down on someone. Santana doesn't even try to understand, too taken with the feel of Brittany's body pressed to her side to notice how Finn skips like a little girl in a field full of flowers.
However, Brittany is very taken with this version of Finn, and soon enough the warmth at Santana's side disappears as her girlfriend flounces off to join the freakishly tall boy.
She does appreciate the view of Brittany's ass in jean shorts, though.
}{}{}{
It takes Mercedes close to three minutes to get the door to their room open, but Santana isn't too fazed because she had Brittany backed into the opposing wall and was currently running her hands up the back of Brittany's shirt while they kissed. Sam isn't even trying to open the door to the boys' room, all of them watching the two ex-cheerleaders with varying expressions. Usually, Santana would get rather…violently opposed to blatant ogling, but for now she couldn't find any fucks to give to them. All her fucks were reserved for Brittany now. Exclusively.
Only when Kurt lets out a drunken cheer as their door swings open does Santana realize what is going on.
And, more importantly, what are behind that door.
Beds.
Quickly, she pulls Brittany through the door, liberating the keycard from Mercedes' fingers and quickly shutting the door in everyone's faces, throwing the bolt for good measure before dragging Brittany to the closest bed. The yelling taking place on the outside is ignored as she yanks Brittany down, pressing their mouths back together and flipping them so that she has the taller girl pinned under her.
A squawk of protest is emitted when Brittany pushes her off and picks up the keycard, grinning at Santana and blowing a kiss before opening the door to let their friends in.
She can't help it- Her lower lip quivers and tears leak from the corners of her eyes. Kurt, who is the first to see, flaps his hands and points excitedly in the girl's direction.
Luckily for Santana, everyone forgets what just happened when Brittany raises her arms and cheers, "We won Nationals!"
They are too drunk to recognize that Brittany is trying to distract them from punching her girlfriend's face in and/or making fun of her, and erupt into cheers along with her before piling onto the beds and falling asleep. Tina ventures into the bathroom and never makes it back out.
"Come on Brittz," Santana slurs when Brittany removes Santana's hand from her shorts as it dips lower for the fifth time, "Lady babies. Lets makes them."
Brittany looks amused. And sober. "We can't, Santana. Our friends are sleeping."
"So let's wake them up with your screams," Santana offers with a leer, "I'm totes fine with that."
"No. Rachel is spooning me, San," Brittany explains, "I don't want her to make a powerpoint when she wakes up."
Blinking her eyes wider, Santana sits up slightly and sure enough, one Rachel Berry has her arm thrown around Brittany's waist and her face buried in long blonde magic hair. Santana scowls.
"That's mine," She growls at the oblivious Rachel, "Go get your own magic hair."
"You're drunk," Brittany says, still smiling in a way that makes Santana want to grab and kiss her until she stops, "Tomorrow you're going to be so hungover."
"I will feel fantastic tomorrow!" Santana announces loudly, "I feel fantastic now!"
In an effort to prove Brittany wrong, she drops her head to the pillow and went to sleep, ignoring the fact that Quinn was spooning her ass.
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Santana does not feel fantastic the next day. Neither do most of the rest of New Directions.
It probably had to do with Brittany and Rachel (and Mike) flinging open the curtains at 9 am to let bright bright sunshine through, then proceeding to wake everyone up the noisiest way they knew how.
(Seriously. Brittany somehow got her hands on two metal lids and was slamming them together as hard as she could.)
"GOOD MORNING FELLOW GLEE CLUBBERS," Rachel bellows, making sure to stand near the door so that she can run should anyone take it into their heads to attack her, "PLEASE DO WAKE UP. IT IS TIME FOR BREAKFAST!"
If her head isn't pounding, Santana would totally kill that little midget, a sentiment that everyone shared throughout most of the morning.
"How are you feeling, San?" Brittany trills in her direction, causing the girl in question to groan and place her forehead gingerly against the cool table. Next to Santana, Quinn winces and pushes her sunglasses further up her face. She hates that Brittany never seems to get hangovers.
Her only consolation was that Finn looked worse off than she did, and half of one of Puck's eyebrows is missing.
He doesn't find out about it till later.