This is complete and total crack, I don't even know what I'm writing anymore. I'm so sorry that you guys really like this story, I think it's kind of sucky.
Anyway, I made this chapter kind of Santana/Friends centric because I believe the coming out phase is really important.
Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or any of the "For Dummies" series.
"It's flawless, Quinn. First I'll throw the nougat, then the sprinkles, then I'll strip and do a dance number."
Quinn glared at her suspiciously, "I can't tell if you're fucking with me or not."
"You're right. First sprinkles, then nougat. Then stripping dance number."
The shaggy-haired blonde tapped and rubbed at her bottom lip pensively before resting her chin atop her knuckles. "Why do we even need candy?"
Brittany wrinkled her nose, scoffing as if the answer was obvious. "It's what I feed Lord Tubbington. Food makes him really happy. He's stubborn and Santana's super stubborn, so she'll be super happy." She smiled winningly before continuing, "But sometimes he poops out candy bars and I don't know if Santana would be okay with that. Maybe I should ask?"
"No!" Quinn shouted abruptly, jumping to her feet. She quickly sat down after seeing the look of shocked confusion on her friend's face. "Uh, something tells me Santana won't be comfortable with that."
Brittany huffed, "Well why not? I'm just looking out for her!"
The shorter of the two sucked in her lips, humming quietly to herself and struggling to think of a way to change Brittany's mind.
"She's allergic, told me in second grade."
"To nougat?" Brittany gasped, leaning forward in her seat from the couch.
"And sprinkles."
"That's awful, I feel so bad now," the dancer mumbled, drawing her knees up to her chest.
Quinn nodded sympathetically, "Yeah, well that cancels out the candy. Maybe we could just have you sing her a sweet song?"
"I'm thinking 'Panty Droppa' by Trey Songz," Brittany said, moving up from her spot on the couch. She mumbled the lyrics to herself, slowly pulling the hem up her shirt up, "Ultimate lap dance song."
The head cheerleader scrambled over to the taller girl, pushing the girl's shirt down with comically wide eyes. "Why don't we try something less sexual, like-"
Brittany ignored her, squealing with glee, "Got it! What about 'One Less Lonely Girl'? Biebs represent!"
"Your voice is high enough for it. Then again most girls' are." Quinn quipped. "But she'd sooner stuff herself in a locker than let herself be serenaded with a Bieber song."
Throwing herself onto the couch, Brittany stuffed her face into a plush pillow. She took a slow, deep breath before groaning loudly and kicking her feet frantically inn frustration. She picked her head up only to smoosh her pinking cheek hard against the arm of the cushy leather couch. She pouted sadly up at the other girl. "Quinn, you're her best friend. Tell me what to do to make her realize I'm what she needs."
The petite girl shuffled over to her with a sweet smile. She laid a steady, comforting hand over the small of Brittany's back. "Already on it."
She reached over for her designer bag on her family's Brazilian wood coffee table and fumbled through her belongings. Three seconds and a couple disheartened sniffles later Quinn managed to pull out her iPhone. She scrolled through her contacts before picking out a name beside a rainbow emoji.
"Kurt? I need a favor."
"Kors' whores are making their entrance. Over."
A tall, skinny boy walked quickly through the throngs of McKinley Titan students with a phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. He did his best to keep a lookout for potential threats to his wardrobe, particularly slushies.
"Kors' whores? Really?"
"He's a brilliant designer, Quinn. Leave Michael alone!"
"You're lucky we like all the same designers or we'd never be friends."
Kurt rolled his eyes and weaved his way down the halls before stopping to dodge behind a set of lockers. He let out a sigh of relief when no one called him out on it. Peeking around the metal corner he scanned the area for a certain feisty Latina.
He brought the phone to his mouth, hissing into the speaker, "Target is not in sight, I repeat target is not in sight!"
"She'll be there in a minute; she had a chemistry test today and she's probably just finishing up. Oh wait, isn't Blaine supposed to be with you?"
Kurt's head snapped up immediately, eyes peeled for his elusive bow-tied boyfriend. He snorted when he spotted the boy loitering by a set of posters in plain sight. Irritated, but unwilling to give up his hiding place, he tried to get the other boy's attention.
"Blaine!"
No response.
"Blaine Anderson!"
Good try.
"I heard there's a 50% off sale at Macy's on bowties."
The gelled boy perked up immediately, "Who said that?"
"Blaine!"
"Oh hey, Kurt! Look, there are some posters for next semester's electives. I'm really interested in this cosmetology class. Mrs. Peterson said they have some really cool hair products coming in."
Kurt blinked at his boyfriend and brought a palm up to his face to quietly seethe. He inhaled sharply, taking with him all the mean, but probably true, things he could've possibly said. He spread his fingers to reveal one glaring eye. "We are on a mission. We can't let them down, Blaine."
The shorter boy's shoulders dropped in shame. "Yeah you're right. I'll just grab a poster then." He smiled, tearing down the poster and walking across the hall to store it in his locker.
Kurt pulled his hands away from his face to cross him arms and pursed his lips at his boyfriend. Blaine didn't miss the look and raised his hands in surrender, a sheepish smile on his lips.
"Sorry, Kurt," He swallowed nervously when he didn't get a response. "You can be on top tonight."
"I'm breaking out the nipple tassels."
Blaine winced, "Yes, dear."
The taller boy finally uncrossed his arms, gesturing for his boyfriend to come share his hiding spot. He scurried over, squishing into Kurt to fit into the small corner. He sighed, staring down at his striped Sperry top-siders. How did he always get himself into these situations?
"You remember the plan right?"
The boy fiddled with his sweater vest nervously, "Uh, remind me again?"
Kurt inhaled through his nose harshly. He's usually really patient with his boyfriend, but he's been on this James Bond kick since Skyfall came out and he really wants to do the double agent proud.
Blaine folded his arms over his nipples protectively. He's so in for it tonight. He might need to break out his boyfriend's emergency moisturizing kit later.
"The target will arrive–"
"The target? You mean Santana?"
"Near the capture point in t-minus two minutes–"
"That's Mr. Kidney's closet, right?"
"When she arrives we'll storm the castle–"
"Because no one will suspect two gay guys kidnapping a girl."
"And deliver her to the location point where we will begin the intervention."
"We'll show her why being gay is totally okay!"
"Your nipples will be purple tomorrow."
Blaine sighed in defeat.
Kurt brought the phone back to his ear. "Quinn? You still there?"
"I tried not to be as soon as you mentioned nipple tassels. I can't unheard the things I've heard."
The boys shrugged unabashedly.
"Hold on, I see her. She just left the classroom. She should be turning onto your hall right about now."
Kurt squealed in excitement, bringing the phone close to his lips. Just then Santana Lopez rounded the corner, an entourage of Cheerios behind her. Kurt let out a puff of air. "Quinn, we have company."
The Cheerios were close behind the Latina, each armed with their choice of flavored slushie. There was no way around them and no way to get to the target without being seen.
"What company?"
Blaine furrowed his eyebrows before taking the phone from his boyfriend to speak. "The Cheerios are right behind her," He turned to Kurt, "We need a distraction."
"Think of something, I have Pre-calculus, bye!" Quinn ended the call.
Kurt swallowed thickly, his breathing growing heavy and panicked. He glanced down at his outfit quickly, almost sobbing when he realized how damn good he looked. He'd picked out his favorite suit just for this occasion. Just for this mission. Fuck all.
Just then he caught a red bush out of the corner of his eye.
Jacob Ben Israel, the Muckraker's leading reporter and the general population's creepiest stalker, had just graced the public with his presence.
"Hey! JBI! Jacob!" Kurt yelled across the tiled hall, waving his manicured fingers at the soulless ginger boy. "I have something you might want to hear!"
Blaine's eyes went wide; his head snapping back and forth between his ecstatic boyfriend and the school's lowest of the low. "Kurt, what the fuck?"
In a flash the boy was in front of the couple, a notepad and recorder shoved in the couples' faces. He was awfully dressed, almost unbearably so when standing next to the very fashionable couple. His hair was frazzled and unkempt, coupled with what looked to be a glob of untouched hair mousse.
"You poor soul." Blaine hushed out, eyeing the pitiful hairdo. The blob of white goo mocked him, sitting alone among curls of carroty colors. He reached out slowly.
Kurt slapped his hand away deftly, gently chiding, "Blaine, don't feed the animals."
Jacob snarled, baring his yellowing canines with a hiss, "You have something you want to tell me, gayboy?"
"Wow, gayboy, that's original," Kurt blinked. "Anyway, I heard something really interesting near the girls' locker room," he whispered with shifty eyes. He waited for the boy to lean in eagerly.
Kurt nodded his head towards the Cheerios discreetly, "See that girl in the back? That's Marcey. She's a newbie."
Jacob nodded, already having heard about all the new cheerleaders. He had brilliant connections. He rolled his eyes, "What else? What about her?"
"She's preggers."
The reporter was sprinting to the cheerleaders in no time, a small camcorder in his hand already. He shoved through the group of cheerleaders, paying no mind to the glares and screeches of the girls. When he finally reached Marcey he couldn't contain his excitement. "So who's the baby daddy?"
Cherry, green apple, blueberry, grape, orange, flavors of every kind doused him.
He didn't stand a chance.
Blaine and Kurt watched from behind the safety of the metal lockers, checking each other's outfits afterwards for high fructose corn syrup and artificially flavored stains. When they each received the clear they peered out cautiously from behind their metal shields.
There were colors everywhere. It was like a glorified rainbow had spawned in McKinley. If Kurt wasn't in such a rush to grab Santana and shove her into a closet he'd stop and take a picture to set as his background.
"Kurt, let's go!" Blaine tugged at his elbow, spotting the Latina in the midst of the mayhem, a great glob of orange slush on her face.
The couple darted forward, hooking their arms through the blinded girl's and dragging her back into Mr. Kidney's closet. Kurt shut the door firmly behind him, one hand palming along the walls blindly for a light switch.
The three sighed in relief when he finally did.
The relief was short-lived though. In almost no time the Latina was spitting curses and flinging the orange slush off her face and in every direction.
Kurt ducked behind Blaine and screamed, "The suit! Anything but the suit!"
Santana calmed considerably, squinting under the harsh light.
"Ladyface?"
"Hello, Satan," Kurt grumbled from his vantage point.
"What am I doing here?"
Blaine smiled as charmingly as he could under the circumstances. "We want to talk to you about something."
Santana eyed them warily, shifting uncomfortably in her corner of the small broom closet. Her eyes flickered to the guarded door quickly.
"Puck's guarding the door. There's no escape," Kurt said with a mischievous smirk.
The Cheerio crossed her arms in defiance. "Is this some kind of threesome proposition? Because I'm into some kinky shit, but I was never really good at sharing."
Blaine pressed his lips into a thin line, knowing he'd have to play nice for everyone's sake if they all wanted to leave the room friends. He gave her his best soothing smile, "Listen, Santana, we really care about you. We want you to be happy."
Santana stepped back, clenching her jaw in discomfort.
Kurt had been watching her thoughtfully from his side of the closet, weighing the options carefully in his head. He could go for the slow, easy approach. It'd take some time, but it was almost guaranteed that she'd cave at some point. Then again he could go for the fast, but effective method. He could just spit it out fast and get home faster.
More time to find his nipple tassels.
Sounds like a plan.
"You're totally gay and we want to help."
He barely registered the sound of his boyfriend sighing exasperatedly into his hand. Kurt shrugged, so maybe he hadn't made the best choice. He cleared his throat, opting for the other approach.
"We've noticed you've been having some feelings." He continued slowly, easing her in slowly for what he knew was a hard topic, "Feelings for someone."
"Who told you?" She growled out angrily.
"Quinn told us, but you have to understand that-"
"I'll kill her!"
"This is for the best. You need to love yourself, Santana! You can't love someone else until you love yourself, that's just how it works!"
Santana looked away in shame, fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. "Of course I love myself. There's nothing wrong with me!"
"Exactly, Santana! There's nothing wrong with you, so stop pretending that-"
"That what, Kurt? That I'm what? I'm straight, okay?" She was screaming now, completely livid.
The room went silent for a minute, then two. No one moved or bothered to say a thing. There wasn't much to be said. If Santana felt the need to defend her sexuality, then there was obviously something there.
"Santana –" Blaine started nervously.
"No, I don't–"
"You need this, Santana. You'll never be happy if you don't understand yourself and love yourself. I'm not going to force you because it's not fair. But know that what you're doing to yourself and even to Brittany," Kurt paused and stepped closer to her, "That's not fair either."
Santana scowled at them, "I'm not – I don't like girls!"
"It's okay to be scared. You're really brave already; no one's going to judge you for being scared," Blaine said almost inaudibly.
"I'm not scared of anything, I have nothing to be scared of!"
"Shut up, Santana! Just shut up, you know you are!" Kurt yelled back at her, his angry, reddening face near hers, "It hurts and it's scary and it feels like you're walking through a minefield just to get to where you want to be!"
The room fell quiet again, soaking up all their yelling and screaming like a sponge.
"I'm not scared of Brittany," Santana replied feebly.
Kurt inhaled sharply at the confession. He exhaled easily when the smaller hands of his boyfriend lay comfortingly on his hips. "Then what are you scared of, Santana?"
"I'm afraid of the consequences. I'm afraid of all the talks and the looks; I know what happened to you at this school, Kurt. Hell, I did some of it."
"Santana," Kurt smiled softly at her, pulling Blaine beside him, "Look, we're still around."
Santana sucked her lips into her mouth, clenching her eyes shut hard. She still remembered every slushie she'd thrown, every dumpster toss she'd cheered on, and every school prank she'd pulled on boys like them. She couldn't handle all that – not after having worked so hard to get to the top of her social pyramid.
Blaine, sensing her inner turmoil, stepped forward to pull her into a warm hug. He tugged on his boyfriend's hand insistently, willing him to join the embrace. They ignored the way Santana tensed and shuddered with unshed tears, opting instead for supporting words and encouraging compliments.
The taller boy pulled away first. He went to rummage through his backpack and cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to will the thick, suffocating tension away. "Blaine and I grabbed some pamphlets from Ms. Pillsbury's office."
Santana glanced warily at the thick stack of papers passed her way.
Broom Closet to Gay Prophet!
The Benefits of Being a Unicorn
No Condoms, No Worries!
Surviving Highschool for Dummies: The Lesbian Edition
Embracing Your Inner Ellen
"Wow," Santana muttered half-heartedly, "These are something else."
Blaine perked up at the comment, "Thanks, I helped her titles some of them!"
"I'm surprised they don't play music when you open them," she said.
The bow-tied boy stared at her expectantly.
Kurt stormed up the Pierce's front porch, beautifully polished dress shoes thumping with every stomp up the stone steps. He fumed to himself as he raised a fist to knock hurriedly on the deep royal blue door.
Thump, thump, thump!
"Quinn! Brittany! Open up!" He yelled.
In almost no time he heard the hollow thuds of bare feet hurrying down a hardwood staircase. There was a faint clashing of metal on metal behind the door. Keys, he presumed.
The door flew open in record time. Two blondes grabbed blindly at his arms to haul him into the large house. They guided him up the stairs eagerly, paying no mind to his complaints or the thuds of his shins smacking stair edges.
As soon as they reached Brittany's room he was shoved into a computer chair and met with two expectant stares.
"Well? How did it go?" Quinn urged eagerly.
Brittany beamed at him hopefully, encouraging him silently with a nod of her head.
He sighed dejectedly.
"We need a new game plan."
Quinn and Kurt waited patiently in front of Brittany, a small dry board eraser held between them. Three numbered sentences were scribbled haphazardly on top of black smudges and poorly erased dry marker.
The head Cheerio cleared her throat confidently, "This is what we've come up with."
"Make me an offer I can't refuse," Brittany commanded lowly around a mouthful of marshmallows. She sat perched on the arm of her big, cushy rolling chair behind her wooden desk, a fat cat in her arms. She pet him soothingly, her spare hand cupping her chin and stroking her own imaginary beard.
"Alright so here's what we have so far: make her jealous, dress like a ho until she fucks you in the hallway, or woo her into submission."
"Oh, oh!" Brittany jumped up from her seat, bouncing up and down. "Number two! I'd totally be into that. But three sounds cool too; she'd make a cute bottom."
The other two nodded to each other briefly, both letting out tired sighs.
Quinn took the initiative, "How about you sleep on it tonight and text us in the morning?"
Brittany nodded affirmative before rocketing herself into them, pulling them into a massive bear hug. "SWBMB is a go!"
The two shared a tired smile over her shoulders.
Three miles away Santana Lopez cracked open a bright yellow pamphlet with two smiling stick figure girls doodled on it. She grimaced and groaned when Blaine's and Kurt's rendition of "Perfect" by Pink came blaring out from the speaker inside.
"For Dummies, huh?" Santana mumbled to herself, flicking swiftly through the thin pages. She cycled back to the first page after a quick run through. She rolled her eyes at the page's header title.
Learn to love your lady lovin' self!
#1. Start slow! Wear a small charm or bracelet reminding yourself of your sexuality.
Do boobs count?
Santana tugged at the neckline of her shirt peering down at her attractive cleavage, "Yup, I'm totally gay."
I feel like I'm Ryan Murphy because this story has zero continuity and I take EPIC long hiatuses. There's not a whole lot of Brittana interaction, but there will be next chapter for sure. I hope you guys got the jokes in the chapter, I always get worried that people won't get my weird sense of humor.
You can vote for one of the three choices for the SWBMB operation.
Also I'm looking for a beta! Because as you can see I probably have a million mistakes in this fic.
Thanks to everyone that stuck with it!
Nayagasm
