2.
An almighty thud shuddered through the cheap chain hotel Schuester had selected for New Directions to stay in for the duration of their Nationals competition. In the lobby Will and the concierge he was conversing with looked up at the ceiling where the noise had come from then at each other.
Will had turned a blind eye when, with a wink towards their club director, Puckerman managed to drug most of the Glee club after a shouting match had begun at 6am in the parking lot between Kurt, Rachel and Quinn over the seating arrangements. Oddly enough Santana had been nowhere near the battle zone instead her head rested on Brittany's shoulder as she vainly tried for another two minutes precious sleep before boarding the Gleemobile. Under the influence of some heavy duty sedatives hidden in freshly squeezed and, more importantly, 'free' orange juice, they slept or were drowsy and non volatile for the duration of spending twelve hours together on a cramped bus. Unfortunately, now they were in New York, it meant they were all awake and raring to go.
"I- uh I'll just go check on the kids," Will muttered with a half hearted attempt at a smile.
As he ran up the staircase for two floors, unwilling to waste any more time than necessary to wait for the elevator, he could hear shouting from the floor the New Directions had taken over.
"The hell you will shortstack, get the fuck out of my room!" Santana yelled at Rachel who was insisting she and Quinn would get the room with the view of a couple of trees in one corner of Central Park.
"Rachel, let it go," Quinn said calmly. "Brittany thinks she might be able to see the ducks fly past to get to the pond from here and Santana will commit murder to get it."
"But-"
"That's right Stumpy, listen to Juno. And why are you even dressed like a rainbow?" Rachel opened her mouth to speak as Santana cast a scathing eye over her multi-coloured duffel coat. "Don't answer that. I cant listen to another word from another idiot. I just spent two whole hours of my life convincing Mr Schue to let me and B share a room. He got all confused and embarrassed because some half wit told him to separate us by sexual orientation. It wasn't until I pointed out he couldn't put us in with the boys or the girls going by that judgement that I had to bring up the married thing and then he got twice as mindfucked, started muttering in Spanish and when he realised I could understand what he was saying he turned bright red and actually ran away from me."
"What did he say in Spanish?" Rachel asked, intrigued.
Fortunately for Mr Schuester he interrupted what would have been a highly exaggerated and colourful interpretation of his words. "What on earth is going on here?" Will exclaimed as he found the door to Santana's room barricaded with the bed. Quinn and Rachel were on the one side in the hallway arguing over the top of the bed with Santana while behind her Brittany stared dreamily out of the window in the conquered room.
All the girls ignored him and Santana called over the bed. "Hey Q, how come you drew the short straw and have to share with Rachel? Ha! Gettit? Short straw."
"Very funny. I get to share with Rachel because as your bestie/girlfriend/wife, delete whichever isn't applicable or whatever you're going with today, dubbed Rachel our so called 'star player' she may need protecting, probably from you. It was a unanimous decision that as you're so very whipped and wouldn't allow you and B to be separated that I'm the only other person who could stop you from killing her."
"I am not whipped!" Santana shouted, indignantly.
They heard Puck shout from the room down the hall. "Yes you are!"
"Uh huh." Rachel and Quinn exchanged a smirk. "We all saw the wedding dvd, S. Invalid argument is invalid."
"Shut up! I could smack you down with my eyes closed and take Rachel out with my little finger."
"Think that all you want but I can at least hold you off until B gets there to stop you."
"B, can't sto-st-stuh..." Santana stuttered as Brittany came and wrapped her arms around her waist from behind, catching her off guard.
"Santana!" Will bellowed into the interruption, finally getting their attention. "Move that bed right now, it's a fire hazard. You've all got fifteen minutes to get ready. We're meeting in the lobby to go and register and maybe get a chance to check out the auditorium."
"Oh goody, re-con! A wise move Mr Schue. I see you finally came around to my way of thinking and read the notes I put together for you on competition tactics."
"Notes? Rachel, a twenty five page dossier does not constitute notes. Now get ready!"
A scream and a roar of laughter from the far end of the hall caught his attention. Santana smirked as he avoided making eye contact with her before continuing up the hallway to see what havoc the boys were wreaking. He pressed his hand to his brow trying to relieve some of the tension. These kids were going to kill him one day.
Eventually Mr Schue got everyone downstairs together and they decided to walk the five blocks to the auditorium where the competition was to be held. That may have been a mistake on Mr Schue's part because they all had to stop for hot-dogs on a street corner, which takes a while when there's fourteen of you. Late registration went on until 9pm so they might just scrape in on time. The next day would be spent rehearsing, the day after that the first round and if they made it through that, showcase.
The group spread out around the foyer of the theatre the competition was being held as Mr Schue made his way over to the main desk. Notice boards with choir listings and schedules were dotted around the place along with a huge poster of last years winners, Vocal fucking Adrenaline.
Quinn looked around with a frown when she heard Rachel muttering quietly to herself. "Calm, calm, deep breaths. Breathe deeply, and in, and out, and in, and out. Don't freak out." She was repeating over and over like a mantra. Quinn exchanged a glance with a curious Kurt who had also witnessed this and they walked over to see what it was which had Rachel so worked up. As they stood behind her she let out a steady "Wooooooooo," noise.
"Okay, sweetie," Kurt said rubbing her shoulders gently as he informed her, "You're being weird."
"Yeah, go be weird somewhere else," Santana sniped as she walked past them. Then she did a double take as they all stopped and stared at Rachel's discovery. She had found a board entitled 'Introducing Your Judges'. There was a short paragraph about each judge and their relevant musical experience and then a special section for the Guest Star Judge.
"Fuck, this is really happening," Santana said, staring hard at the board. She shook her head a little as though trying to come to her senses and added, "You're all fucking weird," and stalked off leaving Rachel and Kurt with their arms around each other, resting their heads together trying to draw strength from each other or some weird shit like that. Quinn just rolled her eyes and left them to it.
"Hi!" Mr Schue was, as usual, bursting with enthusiasm as he introduced the group to the miserable looking man sitting behind the registration desk. "We're New Directions, here to register." The club whooped and cheered at their name behind him and he turned to chuckle at their enthusiasm.
They all crowded around the registrar who looked thoroughly pissed off at this glee club coming in at the last minute when he could have been packed up and on his way home already. "Of course you are," he sighed. "One minute," he muttered and typed something into his computer. "Yeah," he drawled slowly. "Okay, figures this would happen to me at 8:57pm, three minutes before I knock off work." He looked up at Will and sneered. "Something's come up."
"What, is there a computer problem?"
"Nu uh, nothing as serious as that. There's a security alert against your club."
"What?" Will said, shocked, as the rest of the club looked around worried.
"Just a moment, the security team is on its way."
"What? I don't understand, what security notice? What's wrong?"
"You've been red flagged by the FBI. Where are Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce?" The registrar, whose name tag read 'Karl', asked seriously. Two huge security guards appeared beside him as if from nowhere.
"There they are!" Brittany called, pointing at a gob-smacked Rachel and Quinn.
"Nice try blondie, but your photos are in the system so I know it's you."
"We haven't even done anything, I swear! We just got here," Santana said in disbelief as Brittany nervously edged closer to her.
The phone on the desk rang and Karl held up a hand demanding silence.
"Hello?" His phone voice took on a less sneering quality as he spoke and more of a snivelling tone instead. "Yes ma'am. Security alert 'Mickey1'. Yes ma'am, they're here."
Santana took a step backwards pulling Brittany with her, preparing to flee if necessary. Puck and Quinn instinctively moved in front of them blocking the security guards path to them.
"Uh huh. Yes ma'am." He glanced beyond the dumbstruck group and said. "Yes ma'am, he's here. Thank you. You too, have great evening." And hung up. "George!" He shouted, making them all jump.
Brittany was now gripping Santana's wrist so hard she was going to have the fingermarks there for days.
"Over here!"
Everyone spun around to find huge heavily muscled black guy towering over them. He looked to be in his thirties and was dressed in a black suit with a black shirt. To top it off he sported a mohawk but this didn't mask the serious air of someone who could kill you with his little toe. He stepped toward Santana who had nudged Brittany behind her and Mr Schue.
"Hello Brittany, Santana. I'm George, your bodyguard during the competition while you are on these premises." His words immediately took the edge off the whole incident and Brittany smiled at him, liking him already. He grinned back at her and the tension within the group dissipated. He held out his hand for them to shake. Santana stared in disbelief at his hand the size of a dinner plate but Brittany pushed her arm past her and Mr Schue and bumped her fist with his.
"Hi George, cool hair," she grinned, and he couldn't help but give a deep chuckle.
"Thanks."
"A bodyguard? Why do they need a bodyguard?" Will asked, perplexed.
"Safety reasons. Well technically I'm supposed to keep them from causing trouble." He smirked at the girls. "You have a reputation."
"This is crap," Santana snapped, not too pleased at how quickly Brittany had taken to him and just accepted that they had a bodyguard. "We don't need a baby sitter." She turned back to the registrar and scowled at him. "We don't need security. This is stupid, get rid of him."
"He doesn't work for us. It's nothing to do with the Show Choir board."
"What? Then why?" She turned back to see Brittany standing between Puck and George while they crouched down, running her hands over their mohawks.
"George's is cooler. It's so soft," she giggled. Santana rolled her eyes.
"Who do you work for?" She asked George suspiciously.
"I'm not at liberty to say," he grinned as the rest of New Directions took a turn to compare the two mohawks and then the guys started trying to make their biceps as big as George's.
"Oh great," Santana threw her arms up in irritation. "And he's a comedian."
"I thought you were a bodyguard," Brittany said, looking up at George, puzzled.
"I am," he winked.
"This is bullshit!"
"Santana, language!" Mr Schue warned. "Pardon us, George, but you gotta admit this is kinda unusual. Do you have ID or something?"
He handed over his ID card which Mr Schue scrutinised carefully, that and the fact that the registrar was expecting him seemed acceptable. "Also, I've got a password for Santana, if that's acceptable?" he raised an eyebrow hopefully at Santana who's brow furrowed in confusion.
"Well, what is then?" She snapped.
"Pixie stix."
Everyone stared at Santana waiting for a response. She glanced at Brittany who smiled knowingly. Slightly stunned, Santana slowly nodded her acceptance but didn't elaborate further for anyone else.
"Uh, right then... uh," Will stared around flabbergasted. "Are we registered then?"
"Upon condition that George is with those two at all times while on these premises," said Karl.
"Even when we have to pee?" Brittany asked, wide eyed.
"Nah," George said. "I trust you on that one."
Brittany tucked her arm in his and smiled up at her new friend. "Cool. C'mon guys. Let's go check out the auditorium."
"You can't. It's past nine and we're closing up now," snapped Karl, fed up to the back teeth with show choirs flouncing around making their stupid demands. One choir had come in covered in sequins and glitter which was still all over the floor, and broken into an impromptu rendition of 'New York, New York'. Awesome, cos he'd never heard that one before. Their sparkles had given him a headache and that had been before lunch. It had been a long ass day.
"Awwww," murmured Brittany quietly, scuffing her sneaker on the floor in disappointment.
George glanced over at Santana whose attention was, as ever, on Brittany. He watched as she observed Brittany's reaction intently, her expression confirmed everything he had been told earlier that day and everything he would ever need to know.
"No, you cant!" Rachel was gasping. "We have to see the stage! We have to be prepared, we need to know what we're dealing with, how large the room is, the acoustics, the lighting."
Karl grimaced and snapped, "You should have come earlier then instead of leaving it 'til the last minute."
George raised an eyebrow as Santana went off on the registrar. "Are you seriously telling me that I just spent twelve hours in a confined space with that guy's ass," she pointed at Puck, "Which I would bet hard liquor on the fact that something crawled up it and died, and that guy's armpits," she pointed at Finn who's eyes widened and then he tried to discreetly sniff his armpits. "Yous better lets us in or George here'll hafta sit on me to stop me from going all Lima Heights on yo ass, ripping that weave off of yo head and shoving it-"
"Hey!" George's voice rumbled around the foyer. "C'mon, I can take you guys in," and he walked towards the stairs with Brittany hanging off his arm who grabbed a hold of Santana as she went past. Rachel hurried after them not about to miss this opportunity to check out her stage. She hooked her elbow around George's free arm and they headed for the main arena. Puck gave the Karl the finger as they all filed past his scowling face.
Rachel pranced about on the stage, her imagination working overtime as she imagined the glory she would receive in two days time after winning everything. She stepped around Brittany and George who were sitting in the middle of the stage chatting. Santana sat on the edge of the stage her legs dangling off the side. George soon realised he only needed to stay close to one of the girls and the other would never be far away. Mr Schue was talking to a stage hand while Kurt was wandering around in a dreamy daze. Puck, Lauren and Artie were checking out the impressive sound system while the others explored.
"You know, you're much cooler than the last bodyguards we had," Brittany was telling George. "Santana made hers cry. Does this mean you have to do everything we tell you to?" Brittany asked, testing the waters.
"No, sorry, but it does mean you have to do everything I tell you to," he said, eyes twinkling. It was worth a shot.
"Ha!" Santana answered for both of them.
With a smile George pointed out to an area closed off from the main seating. "That's the judges box," he explained, as both girls looked over with interest.
"Uh huh. So..." Santana hinted.
"So," he repeated. "Just saying."
"When can we see her? Do you have her phone number? Can we call her? You don't have to give us her number we could use your phone," Brittany asked, hopefully.
"No, ladies, let's be absolutely clear on this. You cant have contact until after the competition or she'd be kicked off the panel and you'd be disqualified."
"We cant do that!" Brittany was frantic, torn between her fairy godmother and Nationals glory. "We're going to win, Lord Tubbington told me."
"B, Lord Tubbers is evil and planning to take over the world," Santana explained patiently. "You can't believe anything he tells you."
"Have you been talking to him again? That's the same thing he said about you."
Santana scowled.
"Who's Lord Tubbington?" George asked, too late he noticed Santana shaking her head frantically at him.
"You'd love him," Brittany enthused. "He's my four year old grey tabby." She then began to recite his lineage back to his great, great, great, grandfather, Lord Purrs-a-lot. "But Santana said I couldn't bring him with us. She pretends like she doesn't like him and he pretends the same but I know they do really."
Santana rolled her eyes. "You forgot to mention his warthog ancestors."
Brittany ignored the sarcasm and continued her explanation to her new friend. "I didn't want to leave him cos our neighbour Mr Reilly has been really horrible to him recently. He hates Lord T. He keeps saying that he leaves cigar butts on his lawn and once he tried sticking a nicotine patch on him. Tubs hated that, it got stuck to his fur and hurt when I tried to rip it off. I had to cover him in butter to get it to slide off and then he went around looking greasy for days afterwards. Santana wouldn't stop laughing at him."
"George, you got a pen?" Santana interrupted hastily.
"Uh yeah," he answered, somewhat dazed by Brittany's speech. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a black marker pen.
"Thanks. C'mon, B," Santana said, offering her hand which was immediately taken. Brittany grabbed the pen and unquestioningly followed Santana off the stage.
Mr Schue watched them warily but as George was with them thought they'd not get into much trouble. "Don't go further than the lobby," he called after them.
Ten minutes later, with their appetites for the inspecting the auditorium appeased apart from Rachel of course and Puck who wanted to know where all the trap doors were, they were ready to leave.
The grumpy registrar watched them go with a scowl. They were almost out of the door when he yelped. "Hey! Which one of you vandals defaced last years winner poster?"
They all looked around to see the giant image of the now named Vocal 'fucking' Adrenaline with the boys all proudly sticking out their man boobs, the girls all had beards, and the sun was now literally shining out of a devil horned, black eyed Sunshine Corazon's ass.
"Everyone was supervised, it wasn't any of my kids," Mr Schue protested.
"This ain't Nowhere, Ohio, you know. We'll have forensics here in a shot." Karl was furious now, buzzing around like a blue assed fly. "They'll do handwriting analysis and everything. You'll all be fingerprinted!" He yelled.
New Directions hurriedly backed out of the building trying not to make eye contact with the crazy man.
"Thanks for the pen, G," Santana handed it back with a sweet smile which he now understood to mean, danger. "See ya soon, I guess."
George stared after them as they all waved and shouted goodbye. Damn, they were good. He hadn't even seen them do it.