''Can we please stop all of this and turn around?''
Sam was fidgeting in the back of the limo as Finn, Artie and Mike watched him quite literally attempt to chew threw the cloth restraints around his wrist. He was surprisingly unsuccessful, considering his crazy huge mouth allowed him a lot of jaw flexibility.
This really wasn't how he wanted to be spending the night before his wedding but his best friend Finn was pretty much holding him captive.
They were travelling through the city on their way to a strip club. Artie and Mike just looked excited to be invited but overall just seemed to be kind of along for the ride, like they weren't truly invested in the destination of this particular field trip. Finn however was the one who appeared overly eager to get Sam, along the others, in front of some naked women.
''Man, you need to chill,'' Finn said to his oldest friend who was seated at his side. He began handing out beverage from the icebox to everyone, including Sam who purposely dropped and spilled it in protest. ''Say, Artie...you're name's Artie right? You ever been to a strip club?''
Artie smiled and began to stammer and nod. ''Of course I've been to a strip club, hence why I know that it's actually kind of awkward. You never know what to expect, it's weird and not all that sexy either.''
''Kind of have to agree,'' Mike added with an uncomfortable smile.
''I'm with Artie on this one,'' Sam said.
''Damn it, Sam,'' Finn laughed. ''I will not let you kill fun during your own bachelor party.''
''No, this is like negative fun,'' Sam laughed right back although frustration was starting to seep into his voice. ''You don't get it.''
''Get what?'' Finn questioned.
''When you meet the one...all you want to do is hold on to the person,'' Sam explained to his emotionally and mentally challenged friend. ''When you have something real everything else just becomes empty. I don't want to go a strip club. That's not what I'm about, Finn.''
''If Sam's not into this why don't we just forget the club and go to dinner,'' Mike suggested. ''Have a couple beers, order some steaks.''
''We can still have a good time,'' Artie said in support of that. ''We don't need to go to a strip club for that.''
''Buzzkills all of you,'' Finn scoffed in disgust. ''Look I'm the best man so I'm calling the shot here. Let's go to the club and have a drink and if you losers decide to call it a night after that, fine, but not until then.'' He then pointed a finger at Mike and Artie. ''And for your information I was actually planning to get both of you laid tonight because I'm generous and upstanding like that, but you know what, that offer is off the table now. I'll just bang my way through the bridesmaids by myself.''
Artie and Mike exchanged a look between them. They were guests of Mercedes first and foremost which meant they knew her, which also meant unlike Finn they also knew the B-faces.
Finn getting anywhere near them and surviving to tell the tale was unlikely.
''Yeah good luck,'' Mike said with a shake of his head. ''You should trust us when we say you shouldn't play with the B-faces like that though. We knew them in high school and-''
''Listen buddy,'' Finn mocked, ''this is not my first rodeo. I've been the best man to friends and family half a dozen times, okay? Nailing bridesmaids is like shooting fish in a barrel for me.''
''Can you not talk that way about my future wife's friends like that,'' Sam said. He wasn't amused with his friend any longer.
Finn paid him no mind and kept spewing out words. ''What are the names of those two who were sitting next to each other at the rehearsal?'' He snapped his fingers at Artie like he was wait staff.
''Brittany and Santana,'' Artie supplied.
''Brittany and Santana,'' hummed Finn. ''Hot.''
''Yeahhhh, if you want to keep both testicles you don't want to go anywhere near those two,'' said Mike. ''I mean, great girls, a little nutty at times but great girls.''
''But?'' Finn questioned.
''But the two of them dated back in high school,'' Artie interjected, ''and were seriously all about each other and they're not together now but from what I've seen and heard through the grapevine-''
''What grapevine?'' asked Mike.
''Sugar's Twitter.'' Artie handed Mike his phone to show him. ''She was live-tweeting the bachelorette party earlier. According to her eyewitness account she saw them getting a little close and cuddly in a bedroom. My point is, Finn, you don't want to step in that.''
''Fine whatever.'' Finn shrugged and moved on. ''I'll take down the maid of honor then, what's her name? Quinn?''
''That's an even worse idea,'' Mike advised.
''Why? What do you mean?''
''Because,'' Sam said, ''you know how there are serial killers and then there's Hannibal Lector….well there are girls...and then there's Quinn.''
X
''Okay, this is what I have. It's not much but here we are…''
Santana was standing with Quinn and Brittany as Emma walked out of her stock room with a couple of dresses for them to inspect and decide on. The girls quickly concluded that most of the selection in front of them was butt fuckingly ugly and simply not Mercedes. There was one however that Emma insisted they really take a good look at. She pulled the final dress out of a bag and showed them. It was beautiful, it was elegant, it was stunning.
''Everyone wants this cut, it's so popular,'' Emma encouraged and waved to the gown as if it were an item on The Price Is Right.
''It's gorgeous,'' Brittany sighed as a sense of recognition came over her. ''Oh my god, Quinn, that's the dress you've wanted to get married in ever since you were a little girl.''
Quinn went pale. Well, paler.
Santana meanwhile turned to Brittany with a look of relief. The situation wasn't perfect and they were sure to get their asses rightfully chewed out after they explained themselves but at least Mercedes would have a dress. Crisis averted. Right?
''Wrap it up,'' Santana instructed Emma.
''No,'' Quinn said.
''What do you mean no?'' Santana laughed. This was their answer.
''I mean N-fucking-O,'' Quinn repeated again, this time more firmly. ''Over my dead body.''
Without another word or explanation Quinn threw her hand up at Emma, signally that she was done with her, and began a quick angry looking stride for the exit. Santana and Brittany had no choice but to follow, hauling their wedding dress-filled trash bag with them. They had plenty of Sam's cash left over even after bribing Emma into opening her store but nowhere near enough to actually purchase a new dress, at least not one that would look as beautiful on Mercedes as that one. Quinn was the only one between them that had the means to lay down her credit card but she was storming out on them.
''Quinn, come on, what the fuck?'' Santana hollered at her friend's back as she and Brittany trailed behind. ''That was our solution!''
Quinn halted and turned to face them as they came to pause on the sidewalk just outside of the shop. ''Mercedes can't get married in that. Not in that dress. Not in my dress.''
Santana waved her hand about in aggravation. ''This is clearly some girl shit that I don't understand so may I just be very diplomatic and say LET IT FUCKING GO!''
''No! I'm not going to watch Mercedes walk down the aisle in my dream wedding dress,'' Quinn countered snottily. ''I'd rather lick this sidewalk.''
''Fine.'' Santana shrugged. ''Lick the sidewalk.''
''Don't be ridiculous, I'm not going to lick the sidewalk!''
''Yeah you fucking are! You lick the sidewalk,'' Santana ordered, pointing a finger in her face. ''You lick this sidewalk right now!''
''I'll lick it too,'' Brittany said to Quinn for moral support.
''No.'' Santana placed a gentle hand on her ex to move her aside as she and Quinn faced off. ''Britt you don't lick the sidewalk,'' she tore her gaze away from Brittany and aimed it back at Quinn, ''you lick the sidewalk.''
''Why?''
''You want me to let this go? You want us to find another way? Okay but you have to lick this sidewalk right here, right now Fabray.'' If Quinn wanted them to walk away from this solution to their problem this was going to be Santana's condition.
''Just do a little lick. Like a cat lick.'' Brittany made a funny little slurpy sound with her mouth.
''Yeah, Quinn, like a cat lick,'' Santana taunted.
Quinn swallowed and looked down at the disgusting pavement beneath her. She looked like she might pass out or cry but she eventually decided to do what she had to do. If this was the only way to get Santana to let this go…
She got down on her knees in front of them and placed both palms to the ground to brace herself.
Santana tapped a foot obnoxiously and Quinn slapped at it because it was way too close to her for her liking. ''Hurry it up, just do it fast.''
''Like you're taking off a band aid,'' Brittany suggested helpfully.
''Or doing anal for the first time.''
Quinn lowered her face closer and closer to the sidewalk and closed her eyes as she pushed out her tongue just slightly. Her features were contorted in repulsion.
''Is that how your face looks when you have sex?''
''Shut the hell up Santana. Let me do this my way alright, I'm mentally preparing myself.''
She took one deep final breath before pushing herself forward and gave the pavement a tiny cat lick. Within seconds she was spluttering all over herself and making gross gagging noises as she wiped her tongue with her hand.
''You're so pathetic, Q.''
''Whatever.'' Quinn picked herself up from off the ground now that her humiliation was over. ''I did it though so now we're moving on.''
Brittany looked between her two friends and very matter of factly stated, ''You know Mercedes couldn't wear that dress anyway, a vice cut would look awful on her. It utilizes the stretch of the fabric in a diagonal direction accentuating body lines. It would look all wrong on her…''
Santana and Quinn squinted at Brittany in both confusion and awe.
''Wait...what?'' Quinn asked. ''What did you just say? How did you know all that stuff?''
Brittany lifted a shoulder in nonchalance. ''Remember, I did a semester of Fashion Design in L.A. like way back when.''
Santana shook her head. Of course she knew that. It had been Brittany's dream right before, well... ''Britt...that means you know how to sew things right?''
Brittany rolled her eyes at the two of them. ''Duh I know how to sew!''
X
Within the next fifteen minutes they had formulated yet another game plan which they began preparing for once they found a 24 hour drugstore. Quinn wandered off on her own to search for sewing accessories and Santana and Brittany had automatically splintered off from her to head for the rear of the store for the long back aisle where frozen food and chilled beverages were stocked.
They had sworn off any illegal stimulants but they did need a little something to keep them up and alert. There in the middle of the aisle they were slamming down energy drinks and scarfing from a box of Twinkies. Surely the caffeine and sugar would do the trick they thought.
''Alright, Brittany, are you ready to Betsy Ross the shit out of this dress?''
''Yes. Also this drink tastes like gasoline.''
They took a gulp in unison and wiggled their bodies as the liquid made it's way down their throats.
They ate and drank in silence for several long moments.
Santana found it hard not to stare at Brittany though, because how was it possible for her to make eating a freaking Twinkie look so cute. Even with creamy Twinkie filling smeared at the side of her mouth...Brittany was still the most adorable thing she had ever seen.
And god, she felt like an asshole for walking away from their conversation earlier at the bridal shop, but she had to. Santana knew that if she had stayed there for a second longer and looked into Brittany's eyes she would have given herself away, she would have crumbled, because of course Santana had wanted to kiss her. Of course she had wanted to touch her. More than anything.
But she refused to go there. Not again.
Her heart had been shattered by Brittany once and while she had never quite figured out how to reassemble it, she had found a way to cobble together the important bits. She wasn't about to offer that up to run the risk of getting it smashed again.
And so she lied.
''I didn't.''
''What?'' Brittany asked, her mouth full of Twinkie.
''I didn't,'' Santana said again. ''Want to kiss you earlier. I didn't.''
''Oh.''
''I mean you asked me at the bridal shop and I didn't exactly give you an answer but just so we're clear: I didn't.''
It took a few seconds for any kind of expression to register on Brittany's face but when one finally did Santana was confused as to why it looked like her ex slash best friend seemed amused more than anything. She didn't look angry, she didn't look sad, she didn't look heartbroken, she looked like she thought Santana had just said the funniest thing she had ever heard.
Which was why Brittany's response was to steal the last Twinkie from the box and let out an airy little laugh in Santana's face. ''Sure. Right. Fine. If that's how you want to play it…''
Brittany walked off, not even dignifying Santana's denial with a proper response. It was Brittany's clear disbelief of her words that made Santana scamper after her with a need to prove how much she hadn't wanted Brittany. Which, okay, she did, but she certainly wasn't prepared or willing to just admit that.
''You don't believe me?''
''Not really.''
''Well I didn't,'' Santana insisted with a chuckle in some lame but adorable attempt at nonchalance. ''But it's totally understandable how you could misinterpret our friendly moment as something else.''
Brittany smiled, opened up the plastic wrapping of the Twinkie and tore into the spongy treat with relish as they walked through the store, casually strolling through aisles of magazines, make up and miscellaneous. ''Sure. Misinterpret. Like I've been misinterpreting how for the past ten minutes you've been staring at my boobs.''
''Staring at your wha-'' Santana laugh-scoffed as if that were the most absurd thing she had ever heard. ''No I wasn't. I haven't been-don't make it like I-'' she sputtered, at a loss for words briefly before firing back in a light playful tone, ''for your information I have been over you and your boobs for a very long time.''
Brittany just chewed and smirked. ''Mmm, is that so?''
The blonde was clearly toying with her.
''It's the truth,'' Santana said.
''You're cute when you're full of shit.''
''Excuse me?''
''I said you're cute when you're full of shit,'' Brittany repeated herself. ''Why can't you just admit that you maybe might have possibly wanted to kiss me back there?''
''Maybe because I didn't,'' Santana chuckled awkwardly. ''Cause you know what, I love our friendship the way it is now. It works for me you know, heh. You and me can do breakfast and go to clubs and have our weekly Rupaul's Drag Race viewing party and there's no feelings or complications. We just are. And I? I can get laid whenever I want to now, no strings, no commitment, and yeah I was bummed out when we split but this works for me. I'm happy with my life, Brittany.''
Which was another lie, but there was no way in hell she was going to admit that.
''Stop looking at me like that,'' Santana warned lightheartedly.
''Like what?''
''Like you're humoring me.''
Brittany still appeared to be amused though. ''Sooooo you're saying you didn't want to kiss me?''
''No.'' Yes.
''Or touch me?''
''Of course not.'' Of course yes.
''I don't believe that.''
''It's the truth though. Look I'm never gonna say what we had once wasn't great...it was...we were...great.'' Santana smiled warmly, softening at the memories. ''I mean...the feelings stuff...you know I was all about you back then, and the sex? The sex was…''
''It was something else,'' Brittany said, her own memories coming back to her. ''That was never a problem for us. Even you have to admit when we went to bed together...the world stopped spinning. We weren't just good together, we were better together. You and me, Santana.''
''I'm not denying that we had some good times and some fucking amazing sex, Britt. You know what that meant to me. It still means something to me. But we can't go back.''
''Says who?''
''Says me.'' Santana reached forward to wipe a smudge of Twinkie filling from Brittany's pink bottom lip. ''We have all of this wedding stuff in the air. It makes people do the wacky. It makes people look at their own messy as hell lives and question everything. I mean it's why Quinn is falling apart. I'd be lying if I said being at a wedding with you...doesn't bring up a lot of feelings, it does-''
''Then why won't you share them with me?''
Santana shrugged. ''Because the last time I shared my feelings like that with you...you broke my heart.''
The playfulness that had been in the air was gone now, suddenly, and replaced with a sort of quiet sadness. For each of them.
This time Brittany was the one to walk away from their conversation. Santana closed her eyes and stood alone for a few moments, hand to her head, before shaking herself out of it and starting off to find her. When she did she came to see that Brittany had already caught up with Quinn who was browsing sewing accessories and had apparently pulled the wedding dress out partially.
''What are you doing?'' Santana's eyes went wide. ''Why do you have the baby out of the garbage bag?''
Quinn looked at her as if it was obvious. ''I'm matching the thread color to the dress.''
''Uhhhhhh it's a wedding dress, I think maybe it's white,'' Santana replied, her voice dripping with annoyance.
''Actually,'' Brittany interjected and grabbed a package of thread from a peg. ''It's ivory.''
''Actually it's pearl,'' Quinn contested holding up a different color.
Brittany examined the thread more closely and with a nod concluded Quinn was indeed correct.
Santana grumbled. She was just ready to get out of this store and for their their little sewing mission to be over. ''You know knowing stuff like that does not make you guys cool, it makes you-''
''Amazing,'' Quinn supplied, looking a little bit in love with herself in the moment.
''Gorgeous,'' added Brittany.
''Incredible.''
''God blessed me with perfect tits, it's only right that people should know that.''
Santana made a ridiculous face at the two blondes who had been talking in turn. ''I was going to say it makes you fucking nerds.''
''Whatever,'' Quinn shushed her. ''Let's just buy this shit so Brittany can work her magic and we can fix this dress before Mercedes wakes up on her wedding day to find it missing. So are we good? Do we got everything?''
''I think so,'' Brittany answered as she looked at the supplies Quinn had gathered for them.
''So how fast can you sew?'' Quinn asked Brittany.
''Well, it would be faster if I had a sewing machine.''
''Okay...who do we know that can get us a sewing machine?''
The three contemplated silently for a moment before a light bulb went off above Santana's head. ''Brittany your boobs!''
''What?'' Brittany grasped her own boobs in confusion. ''Are they out or something?''
''No,'' Santana said. ''But that stripper, what's his name?''
''Elliot.''
''Yeah, Elliot. You still have his card in your boobs right? You said he was in fashion school or some design class or some shit, do you think he might have a sewing machine?''
''Wouldn't hurt to ask.'' Brittany pulled the business card out from her boobs and started dialing.
Quinn shook her head. ''Seriously, why do you two carry things in there?''
X
They made the call, or rather Brittany made the call on their behalf and while Elliot did express regret and genuine sorrow for inadvertently hurting Mercedes and said he wished he could help he informed them that he wasn't at home. He was out working, it seemed when he wasn't moonlighting as a stripper he picked up some bucks here and there working a bartending gig at a gentlemen's club. Because he was out, he said, he was nowhere near his sewing machine and gear and unfortunately that meant he wouldn't be able to help them.
Loud thumping music could be heard in the background and it sounded like Elliot was trying to say something else but his voice was drowned out. It sounded far away and fuzzy before the call was dropped.
But they were on a mission and they weren't going to let that stop them and so that's why they hailed the nearest cab and hauled their asses across town to find Elliot in person. If their sob story didn't tug at his heartstrings and do the trick they were counting on bribing him with the fistful of hundreds they still had from Sam's wallet.
What they weren't expecting when they, along with their trash bag, landed at the entrance of the strip club however was the doorman refusing them entrance.
''No females without a male escort,'' the man said, holding up a hand and blocking them from walking forward.
Santana was pissed. ''That's sexist and homophobic. I'm a lesbian and these could be my girlfriends. Like I've tapped this.'' She gestured to her side where Brittany stood. ''Multiple times. Hundreds of times. Once in water.''
''Upside down even,'' Brittany added.
''So,'' Santana resumed telling the doorman off, ''what the fuck, you don't know. How do you know we aren't taking our friend…'' she then pointed a finger at Quinn's face, ''this pressed lemon over here to blow off a little steam, huh?''
''Whatever ladies just move on down the street,'' he grunted.
Quinn stepped closer to him, insulted by the insinuation. ''Did you just call us prostitutes? Listen I got a scholarship to Princeton.''
They B-faces were about to give him the verbal thrashing of a lifetime but the man was spared the nightmare as just then Sam walked out of the club and walked straight into the scene. Apparently he and his companions were visiting the very same strip joint. In a flash Santana drop kicked the bag to the side of the road. Conveniently there was a giant heap of other trash bags cluttering the sidewalk and he didn't seem to notice.
''Hey, it's okay, they're with me,'' Sam told the doorman who nodded in understanding and stepped to the side, letting them know they were now granted entrance.
''What is this misogyny night,'' scoffed Santana.
''What are you guys doing here?'' Sam asked.
''We, uh, came to hang out,'' Quinn supplied.
''Are you leaving?'' Brittany asked him.
Sam wrinkled up his nose. ''I didn't even want to come but Finn was on me to 'get wild' on my last night of freedom. He got distracted during a lap dance and I decided to make my escape. I just want to go back to my hotel room and get some shut eye, you know. I got a big day tomorrow and I want to look good for Mercedes when she walks down the aisle.''
They all nodded, quite aware that if their luck didn't turn around quickly Mercedes might not have anything to walk down that aisle in. He wished them a good night and they watched him slip into his limo to go back to the hotel. Once he was gone they turned to the mountain of trash bags on the sidewalk…
''Which one is it?'' Quinn asked.
''It's this one.'' Brittany picked a bag up and tore it open, making its contents spill out messily. Food, napkins and random bits of trash fell at her feet. ''Orrrrrrr maybe this one.'' Again she picked another trash bag up and opened it only to find it filled with more garbage.
Santana bent down to try a trash bag of her own. Only to find hers was filled with baby food and diapers. She gagged and chunked it as far away from her as possible. ''I threw it right here in this section. It has to be here.''
''Do not fucking tell me we lost the fucking dress.''
Brittany winced. ''We lost the fucking dress.''
X
A/N: so the ''lick this sidewalk'' scene is basically why I wanted to write this fic. It lasts for a grand total of like 20 seconds in the movie but it just screams Unholy Trinity to me. Santana would totally make Quinn lick the sidewalk. And Brittany would totally egg her on with ''like a cat lick!'' It's my favorite scene in the whole movie and I wish it lasted longer.
