A/N: Thanks so much for reading guys! Hope you like this one as well!
snixxjuice214: Thank you so much! *and it was actually a toss up between her and Britt, but i wanted Britt to make her first appearance in this chapter*
ArmadilloPretzels: *bows* that is a high compliment! thank you! she's a blast to write!
BrittzTana: thanks! hope you enjoy this chapter as well!
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee at all. But i do have a huge mountain of homework waiting for me.
"We're almost there." Quinn announced, as she led the way down the narrow, empty street. She recognised the place-it was one of the many empty plots of land just outside L.A. that Emma had once told her belonged to Sylvester's company. Quinn had been here before, shooting a music video with her band.
Speaking of, she was going to kill Puckerman when she saw him.
"Roger that, over."
Chuckling, Quinn caught Rachel's eye in the rearview, sat in the backseat with Kazatori. "Don't worry; Santana's calmed down now. She won't kill you." She assured, in response to the brunette's paranoid expression.
"You can say that; I still feel her eyes boring a hole into the back of my skull." She fidgeted with her fingers, and Quinn shook her head. Her friend could be unreasonably mean to the other woman, but Quinn knew Santana didn't mean any of it.
"I can still hear you two, you know. And yes, Streisand. I am trying to see if my fabulousness allows me to shoot lasers out of my eyes; alas, no luck, as of yet. I'll keep trying, over." Santana's voice reminded Quinn she that she was still on speakerphone with the other girl, and she rolled her eyes at the ridiculous threat.
Santana smirked, as she followed Quinn's red car into the turn-off. She should probably lay off the teasing for now-she could tell Rachel was reaching her breaking point.
The narrow dirt lane led into a makeshift parking lot, and Santana was inwardly glad she hadn't taken her Roadster-her baby's wheels would've been thrashed if she drove it here. The edges of the lots were marked by white flags, the show's name emblazoned brightly in black. A few other cars were already there, and Santana saw people milling around outside a huge white tent, the canvas roof stretched across poles at the head of the lot.
"Looks like we're here." Quinn's voice filtered through the phone, and Santana picked it up as she parked.
"I'm guessing we head to the tent?"
"I see Mercedes there." Rachel piped up, and Santana saw the host she was referring to.
"Not bad, Hobbit. Come on." Hanging up, the Latina stuffed the device into her pocket, nodding to the four crew members in her car.
The minute she put her feet to the dirt she was spotted. "Well, look who it is!"
Santana raised an eyebrow behind her shades, as she slammed her door shut. Smirking at the figure coming towards them, she couldn't resist teasing. "Whoa, Wheezy. Don't bust your ass trying to get here-you might pop something."
"Don't you dare start, Santana Lopez-I'm warning you." The woman had a cheeky smile on her face, holding her arms out for a hug, and despite herself, Santana found herself hugging back. She had really missed the African-American girl and she really enjoyed her company-Mercedes took no shit from nobody.
Which reminded her.
"The hell is going on? I nearly killed Berry in front of witnesses today!" Her annoyance clipping her voice, Santana scowled at a suddenly disinterested Mercedes. The talkshow host's attention was with her two companions, plump lips pulling apart to reveal white teeth.
"Hello, 'Cedes. How are you?" Quinn nudged Santana in the ribs as she stood next to her, shooting her a quick glare.
"Quinn, Rach! How nice to see you all made it! Great, you're first to arrive. Let's go." Her usual take-charge attitude was still intact, Santana noted, as she followed the obviously excited woman to the tent. With a quick warning to mind their head, Santana ducked between the flaps and stopped short, her fingers pausing in their action of hooking her sunglasses around her collar.
"Whoa." The inside of the tent was quite large, housing a bunch of film cameras, with cables winding through each other to tangle at outlets, leaving very little space for walking. They were manned by two more crew members, both of whom looked relieved to see the people who crowded into the tent behind Santana's team. The cameras, pointed at the center of the tent, were set to film the people set to take their places on the chairs there. Santana counted eleven seats in total.
"Is that where we're sitting?" Rachel asked, as they carefully stepped past the maze of possible sprained ankles.
"Yes. Now plonk your skinny asses down on those chairs."
Santana took her place next to Quinn, giving Rachel the stink eye when she looked like she was going to sit next to her. "Wheezy, come on. Answer our questions."
"Soon. Later, when everyone's here. You guys having fun so far?"
Rachel cut in before everyone could, beginning her long recount of the morning, taking the attention away from everyone else. Where normally Santana would roll her eyes, she merely relaxed slightly in her chair, exhaling long and loud.
"You really should sit properly." Quinn leaned over, whispering into her ear as she warily eyed their surroundings.
"Because decorum is important right now."
"No, because there are cameras everywhere, and I think some other team's come." Santana rolled her eyes, crossing her ankles and arms. There was a commotion outside, and a pimply boy popped his head in to inform Mercedes of the other team's arrival. Excusing herself, the host nimbly navigated the wires, leaving the three behind in a silence.
"Who else do you think got roped into this?" Quinn asked suddenly, shifting in her seat. Opposite them, the film crew were being bundled out, leaving behind a rep to continue to watch the footage. The older man smiled slightly, before turning back to his work.
"I believe artists much the same as us." Rachel supplied, fussing with her skirt. Scrunching her eyebrows, Santana gave her a face. "Berry, no shit. I think Sue's on a mission to put as much starpower on a gameshow as possible."
"Still, I have no idea why she chose us." Quinn gestured between herself and her roommate. "We don't need the publicity."
Rachel bristled. "Are you saying that I do?"
"Streisand, I think she means that no one outside of a gay bar and their grandmother knows you."
"I'm offended! Broadway is a wide-reaching platform, and I refuse to allow you to say-"
"Calm down, Lea Salonga. We're just saying. Film is different than stage, as is music is different from performing show tunes."
Quinn sighed, shaking her head slightly. Santana settled, oddly taking no satisfaction from the confused outrage on Rachel's face.
"...and you get to meet your fellow cast members!" Mercedes announced, re-entering the tent, followed closely by a trio of boys. Santana's eyes widened, as she recognised all of them, two much more than the other.
"Sam? Artie?" Quinn cocked her head, looking surprised.
The Man Who Saved the World's leading man and Not Indie's DJ both looked up, curious. Their grins grew wide on their faces as they recognised who it was.
"San, Quinn!" Sam greeted, bounding over, his arms wide for a hug. Artie shuffled over a bit slower, his limp almost unrecognisable in his gait. The last celebrity was Asian Sensation, Mike Chang, one of the two hosts that did 'Losing Champions'. Now that, Santana reflected, was a reality show. Seeing Americans lose weight was her favourite hobby. Next to cussing out every member of Jersey Shore, of course.
Santana stood, letting herself be pulled into her co-star's body, laughing slightly as he lifts her up and twirls her around with him. "Oh man, I didn't know that you guys were involved in this too!"
"Neither did I, Fish Lover. Now put me down." She squirmed, stifling her giggles when he tickled her waist. Sam Evans gently placed her back on her feet, his horrendously huge lips pulling back to reveal perfect white teeth, as he turned his attention to Quinn. The blonde barely got a moment's pause before she was given the same treatment as her best friend.
As they spun, Santana rolled her eyes amusedly, and offered her hand out for a fist bump with the DJ, who had taken a seat next to Rachel.
"Long time no see, Robot Boy."
Artie leaned back, the hem of his tight jeans riding up to show a hint of prosthetic flesh. "And you too, Satan. Haven't killed Quinn yet?"
"Why does everyone assume I'm a serial killer? You're not the first person to ask me that today." Noticing that Rachel was darting glances between the both of them with wide eyes, she smirks. "And I see you've met Rachel Berry."
"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am." Artie turned, giving the Broadway star a firm handshake. The very young adult-he was only nineteen-poured on the Southern charm, slipping into the charismatic persona that he put on for the fans. And by the way the tiny girl was looking at him, Artie knew she was a fan.
"Wow. You're DJ ArtSkeeze, aren't you? I love your music!" She was squealing, and Santana took a step back, caught slightly off-guard with this side of the starlet.
"Calm down, troll. Never took you to be the squealing fangirl type." She butted in, smirking at the way Rachel took a discreet deep breath to calm herself down. Artie, on the other hand, merely smiled, still holding on to her hand. He hadn't heard much about the woman in front of him, but if the way Santana pronounced her name fully was any indication, he figured it was a name he should know.
"Thanks. I always feel glad that people like my stuff." Artie answered, waggling his eyebrows slightly in a silent gesture to tell Santana to go away. The brunette didn't seem dangerous. Besides, she was obviously a celebrity.
Santana raised an eyebrow in reply, and shrugged. Hey, if Artie liked hobbits, it wasn't anything to her. Besides, Sam was already tapping her shoulder incessantly, trying to get her to turn and join the conversation he was having with Quinn and Mike.
"What's hanging, Trouty?" She spun next to him, glancing at the fitness show host and shooting him a smirk.
"Just wanted you to meet Mike Chang-he's from-"
"'Losing Champions', I know. And I know I'll sound like a dork, but I watch your show sometimes. It's great."
"More like all the time. She keeps recording over my episodes of Grey's Anatomy with your show." Quinn butted in, crossing her arms. Shooting her a quick scowl, Santana rolled her eyes.
"Just because I prefer watching something slightly relevant to my life...Unless you were planning to get a job as a doctor anytime soon?"
"Please. You work out more than anyone in my band put together-and they're all guys."
"It's not my fault that-" Sam coughed, interrupting her. Inwardly, she blushed. "My bad. But hey, you're awesome. Just getting that out there."
Mike Chang did nothing more than smile, his eyes twinkling. "So are you. Honestly, I watch your show religiously. Brittany always teases me about it."
At the mention of his co-host, Santana bit her bottom lip. "She does?"
"Like clockwork. Sometimes, I get her to watch it with me." He winked. "After the first time, I changed her tune."
"Well, we do try."
A commotion by the tent flap had them all turning, where Mercedes was yelling across the lot. "Damnit, Puckerman! You sideswipe my car and I will shave that Mohawk right off your head!" She sounded pissed, and Santana's mouth quirked. She had missed Mercedes threatening everyone she met.
From outside the tent, she registered the sound of tires against dirt, a car's engine roaring powerfully into the lot. The growl cut off, as the sound of doors slamming replaced it, and voices filled the air. Santana counted four in total.
"Dude, that was awesome!"
"Told you; if the Puckerman can't do it, no one can."
"Oh my god guys, my mints spilled in my purse."
"You have to teach me sometime, Puck."
Finn, Puck, and two other women Santana couldn't place. She exchanged a glance with her best friend, confused. Quinn shrugged back in reply, but turned when she caught the look of delight on Mike's face.
"Is that-" His question was left unanswered, as Mercedes ushered the team in. Instead, he punched the air, and excused himself through their little huddle to get to the laughing blonde entering the tent first.
"Britt!"
Blue eyes lit up, as a lithe figure straightened and caught sight of her friend.
"Mike!" She laughed, as she nimbly and easily hopped the cables and jumped into ready arms. "Oh, wow! What are you doing here?"
"I'm on the show, B. You are too?"
"Yeah! I got the email from Sylvester a week ago!"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I couldn't, she told me if I did then, and I quote, 'I will send a group of skimpily dressed fat hopefuls from your show to do a striptease in front of your house.' And that would have been embarrassing, so..."
Mike laughed. "Yeah, she said something similar. Except mine consisted of some weird Asian remedies even I haven't heard of." Pulling away, he was quickly introduced to the rest of her team, the blonde gesticulating widely and smiling like a little kid on Christmas.
Meanwhile, Quinn and Sam were having a conversation.
"Isn't that the host San has that massive crush on?"
"Yeah, when I said she records over my tapings, it's purely for Pierce."
"Oh, like when she does her segments on the show?"
"Why else?" Quinn quirked an eyebrow, making Sam laugh. "Look at her; she's speechless."
And even though Santana wanted nothing more than to flip her off, she couldn't. She was too busy staring and trying to remember how to swallow.
Because holy fuck. That was Brittany Pierce. The Brittany Pierce that Santana had been crushing on since the very first time she had seen her on her television show, sat in her ratty pyjamas and waiting on the casting results for her 'The Man Who Saved the World' audition. The same Brittany Pierce that had winked through the screen at Santana (and millions of others, but who cares about them; Santana's the one watching), and made the then unknown-actress all but choke on her mouthful of Lucky Charms.
And then proceeded to make her fall in love with her more and more every week.
The blonde was giggling at something a tinier brunette was saying, as the girl jumped around in her pink suit jacket-those things existed?-and her blue eyes were crinkled at the corners, and her mouth was showing just the tips of white teeth, and holy shit, Santana was totally staring.
A sharp poke in the back had her jumping nearly a foot off the ground. "Fuck!" She turned, to meet with two sets of half-amused, half-mortified faces. "What the hell, Fabray!"
"Don't look at me, Lopez! It was Sam!"
She rounded on him, running on a buzz and anxiety. "And what in the name of holy Batman do you want?"
"Um, San...you might want to..." He trailed off, pointing uncertainly behind her, taking a step back.
Santana stiffened. She had totally forgotten that there were other people around. Slowly, she turned back, plastering a flustered smile on her face. "Hey." She waved slightly to the room of now-silent people. Everyone was looking at her-Santana wanted to curl up and die, because Brittany Pierce was right there, and way to make an impression, Lopez. "Don't worry about me. Carry on, carry on." She waved her hands in front of her, hoping they would forget about her and stop staring and making the entire situation just awkward.
Oh, Santa Maria.
Slowly, everyone returned to their own conversations, with Mercedes beckoning the middle-aged cameraman over, whispering into his ear. Santana inhaled and exhaled deeply, rolling her eyes at herself. How could she have been so stupid? Gosh.
"San?"
"Not now, Q." She sighed, massaging her temples and glaring at her co-star. "You owe me lunch. And dinner. And a case of really, really expensive wine."
Sam smiled sheepishly. "I didn't know you would react like that. I just wanted to get your attention."
"And now you do."
"Sorry. And I will buy you lunch and dinner. But no wine. Quinn won't let you drink it."
Groaning roughly, she stomped over to the last seat in the row, and sat, crossing her arms across her chest. Screw Quinn for always being right.
"Fine. But they better be fancy."
Sam dropped next to her, rubbing her back comfortingly. "Alright. We'll go to that really expensive restaurant where you liked their chocolate fondue."
"And I want shrimp."
"But you never order shrimp."
"I do now."
Amused by his friend's sullen pouting, Sam merely leant back and nodded, realising she needed a few minutes to recover from before. She had always been really shy about attention, even if she didn't act like it sometimes.
"Alright! Everybody, grab a seat with your teammates, and we'll begin filming shortly!" Mercedes announced, and Sam gave her shoulder one last squeeze, and got up to seat himself next to Artie at the other end. Quinn took his place, leaning over to catch her eyes, satisfying herself that she wasn't in the doghouse when Santana rolled her eyes amusedly at her.
"One day, your eyes are going to fall out of your head, you know?" She muttered, as Rachel came over, smiling giddily at the fact that Artie had listened to her talk about 'The Glass Menagerie' without once complaining. She gave Quinn a wide beam, as she sat next to the blonde, primly crossing her legs.
"I'd be glad; I won't be able to see everyone wondering if I was insane every time they looked at me from now on."
Quinn just rolled her eyes right back at her.