A/N - ltrasco wanted a Faberry fight/argue chapter. I didn't want to go down the angst-y route just yet, so I thought I'd make their first fight a result from whacky events. Hope you enjoy it! And thanks for all the reviews, guys! It means a lot to hear your thoughts on the story.
Chapter 10 – Intermission: Brittany
"Mommy says that you shouldn't waste food," Shannon recalled sagely.
"And you shouldn't," Rachel agreed. "Your Auntie Santana and I were just being silly."
"Who's being silly?"
The pair ensconced on the chair simultaneously looked up in response to that all too familiar chipper voice.
"Brittany!"
"Auntie Bee!"
"Hi guys!" Brittany came bounding through the door, exuberant and lively as every despite her age. Her now white-blonde hair swung about her face as she glided over to Rachel and Shannon, immediately engulfing them in her notorious bone-crushing hug. The trio remained locked in a tangle of arms before Shannon began squirming in discomfort at being sandwiched between the two older woman and Brittany let them go.
"How are you?" the former dancer asked as she deftly plucked the little blonde off Rachel's lap and cuddled her like one would a stuffed toy.
"Good," Shannon replied, palming Brittany's cheek. The little girl adored her aunt. "Grandmamma Rae was telling me the story of how her and Auntie Sanny made a cake for Grandma Quinn."
Brittany chortled, her azure blue eyes twinkling with mirth as that particularly surreal yet fond memory resurfaced. "Oh what a mess they made," she reminisced, winking at a slightly blushing Rachel.
"Your wife started it," the seated woman retorted, tilting her chin upwards in defiance. She went so far as to cross her arms over her chest, huffing dramatically.
Brittany rolled her eyes. "Still a diva, I see," she observed, though her lips were stretched into an amused grin. "And my wife didn't start it on purpose. Her hand slipped is all," she defended good-naturedly.
"Sure it did," Rachel replied, still not believing that Santana's hand merely "slipped." She fished the scrapbook off her lap and set on the table next to the chair before standing up, stretching as she did. "I need to procure the use of the little girls' room," she announced. "Would you mind watching Shannon for a few minutes?"
Brittany shook her head no and cuddled a snuggling Shannon closer to her. Rachel smiled at the sight and began to edge around the pair when one of Brittany's hands shot out to grab the smaller woman's hand. She entwined their fingers and tugged Rachel toward her before dropping a chaste kiss onto the diva's lips. There was nothing erotic about the kiss; it was simply a familiar exchange between two lifelong friends. "It's good to see you, Rachy."
Rachel felt her eyes brim at Brittany's use of her nickname. "You too, Britt-Britt." She reached up and cupped the taller woman's cheek before dropping her hand. "I'll be back in a bit."
Both Brittany and Shannon watched her go, Brittany's cerulean blue eyes almost electric with emotion. Then she blinked and refocused her attention on her little charge. "So your grandmamma has been telling you stories about the past huh?" she asked as she settled into the chair Rachel abandoned.
Shannon nodded and pointed to the scrapbook on the table. "Good stories," she answered.
"You want to hear about the party we all went to after we won a singing competition?"
Shannon bobbed her head in eager agreement. "Was it a fun party?"
Brittany snickered. "A little too fun," she responded, vividly remembering a very drunk Rachel, livid Quinn and an overly emotional Santana. She settled her back against the chair as she prepared to give a very watered down version of the party Puck threw in celebration of their win at Nationals. As she began, Brittany could not help but wander down memory lane, her mind recounting every lurid detail of that unforgettable night.
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"I'm not going." Rachel stood beside Quinn's locker, the very picture of defiance with a raised chin, arms crossed over her chest and her eyes flashing her refusal to the blonde's request.
Quinn sighed in frustration and tugged a hand through her barely touching her shoulders blonde locks. She had let it grow out over the summer after cutting it on a whim during their trip to New York but was actually contemplating returning it to its short bob. "Rachel…"
"I am adamant in my refusal to partake in puerile teenage activities that will no doubt occur at parties. Especially Puck's parties," Rachel rambled, her hands animated wind milling about her petite figure.
"Aww, come on, Rachel," Quinn coaxed, adopting a saccharine tone. She moved closer to the petite diva and threw out her lower lip. "For me?" She hit the smaller girl with the full force of her pleading puppy dog expression and internally began smirking in satisfaction when she saw Rachel visibly deflate. "Please?" She ended by trailing a seductive finger down the nape of the smaller girl's neck. "To celebrate our win at Nationals?"
Rachel felt her resolve waver and she attempted to look everywhere but Quinn and that pout that had fast become her undoing every time Quinn wanted something. The way Quinn always managed to perfectly pull off the "kicked puppy" look never failed to make Rachel weak in the knees. Combine that and Quinn's wandering finger over high sensitized skin, Rachel didn't stand a chance. "Fine," the diva grumbled as she conceded defeat. She kicked at the floor with the stub of her shoe, internally cursing her inability to say no to the head cheerleader.
Quinn grinned in triumph and leaned forward to capture Rachel's lips in a quick but heated kiss. "You are amazing. I'll pick you up at eight." With that, she closed her locker and shouldered her bag before sashaying her way to Cheerios practice, humming happily under her breath.
Rachel watched her girlfriend go with a resigned sigh. As she made her way to her car, she prayed to numerous deities for divine intervention. She would have prayed harder had she known just how many shenanigans alcohol would get her into later that night.
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"Mandatory shot, my hot little Jew," Puck said in greeting, holding out a tray of shot glasses filled with various alcohols. Quinn took an amber liquid filled one and threw it back, barely wincing as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. She silently urged Rachel to follow suit and watched as Rachel tentatively picked a clear liquid shot and hesitantly sniffed at its contents before wrinkling her nose.
"Quinn…" Rachel shot her girlfriend a pleading look only to receive pointed stares from both her and Puck. Sighing, the petite girl shut her eyes and threw back the shot, coughing and spluttering when the liquid ignited up her the walls of her throat. She dropped the empty shot glass back onto the tray. "That is repulsive," Rachel whined, gripping her abused throat with a hand.
"Quit being so dramatic, Rachel." Grabbing the smaller girl's hand, Quinn tugged her into the living room where the party was already in full swing.
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"Someone's looking Berrylicious," Santana purred lazily from where she was draped over the length of Brittany. She hiked up a perfectly tweezed eyebrow. "Skinny jeans suit you, Berry. Your ass is lookin' mighty fine!"
"Stop drooling over my girlfriend," Quinn snapped, appearing from around the corner with a two bottles of beer. She handed one to Rachel before snaking an arm around the smaller girl, in an unmistakable gesture of possessiveness.
Santana scoffed and returned her attention back to Brittany who was working her up into a painful state of arousal by dragging her nails up and down the Latina's back.
Quinn took a long pull of her drink, watching as Rachel mimicked her. Then she pulled Rachel flush up against her front. "You're mine," she husked into the smaller girl's ear. She emphasized her point by nipping at Rachel's earlobe.
"Yours," Rachel managed to say around an uncooperative tongue. She shuddered when Quinn attached her lips to the column of her neck and began a light suckling, teeth sinking into the soft skin to mark their territory. "So yours," she sighed, leaning back into the blonde.
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"Chug, chug, chug, chug!" The group chanted as they formed a circle around one Rachel Berry who was tipping back a yard glass filled with a bubbly amber-gold liquid. Dribbles of ale trickled down the corners of her mouth but this went unnoticed by the girl who was intent on draining the contents in the glass. A chorus of cheers rang out when Rachel held up the now empty glass in victory.
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"Britt-Britt!"
Brittany barely managed to set the bottle of vodka down before Rachel ran up to her and threw not only her arms around the taller girl but her legs as well. Brittany stumbled under the sudden weight but her own hands instinctively wound under Rachel's rear, effectively holding her in place. The diva responded by gripping her legs tightly around Brittany's waist.
"Hi!" Rachel giggled, placing a sloppy kiss on Brittany's cheek.
Brittany smiled. "Hi." She took in the girl's disheveled hair, glazed eyes and flushed cheeks. "How much have you had to drink, Rach?"
Rachel hopped off the lanky blonde and swayed precariously as her legs wobbled under her weight. "This much!" she whisper-shouted before throwing her arms out haphazardly to emphasis her point. The back of her hand almost caught Brittany square in the nose and she garbled out an almost nonsensical apology.
Brittany smiled then returned to making her drink. "You're so cute when you're drunk, Rachy." She set down the bottle of vodka and picked up a bottle of Blue Curacao.
"Whatcha makin'?" Rachel tried to peer over the blonde's shoulder but the girl was too tall so she nudged Brittany aside, almost causing the blonde to upset her drink. "Whoopsie!"
Brittany merely chuckled as she strained her concoction into a martini glass. "Want a sip?"
Rachel nodded happily and plucked the drink from Brittany's hands. She tossed it back in one go. "Wow!" she whispered conspiratorially. "It tastes so…so blue!" Rachel hiccupped and set the martini glass back down, swaying on the spot as she did so. "Whoa," she mumbled. "Dizzy." She tried to reach for the table's edge but her vision doubled, causing her to misjudge where the table actually was.
Brittany caught the girl, pulling her close to her body. "Easy, Rachy." The blonde looked down at Rachel who looked back up, confusion washing over her glazed eyes. "What?"
"There's two of you," Rachel announced in awe. She reached up and tugged at a lock of blonde hair. "You're blonde," she observed dreamily, twirling the lock of hair around her finger.
"Yup," Brittany replied, utterly charmed by drunken Rachel.
"Like Quinn," Rachel continued, leaning closer to Brittany until her front was flushed up against the dancer's.
Every alarm in the lanky girl's head was tripped when Rachel all but wrapped her legs around Brittany's waist. Again. "Uh, Rachel?"
"Mmm?"
"I'm not Quinn."
"You're not?" Rachel frowned. "But you're blonde!" She peered drunkenly up at Brittany. "Quinn?"
"No, I'm Brittany," the girl replied, getting a little confused herself. She tightened her hold on the petite girl when Rachel swayed dangerously. "I think we should get you some water, Rach."
Brittany began half-carrying Rachel in the direction of the kitchen but the tiny diva, in a sudden impressive state of lucidity, deftly wriggled out of the dancer's arms and almost tripped over the carpet in her haste to run off to find "her blonde shining armor."
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"Santana!" Rachel stumbled drunkenly toward the seated Latina, sloshing everybody she passed with the contents in her Dixie cup, earning her indignant shouts and angry glares though nobody physically retaliated for fear of Quinn's wrath. The petite diva finally arrived by the living room couch where Santana was quietly nursing a bottle of beer, the expression on her face a curious mix of bitchy and mopey. The Latina squawked in shock and revulsion when Rachel plopped herself on top of the taller brunette and proceeded to rattle off a list of Santana's attributes.
"You have really, REALLY intense eyes Santana." The girl in question reared as far back as she could when Rachel brought their faces a little too close for comfort. "Like REALLY intense," Rachel repeated, giggling manically. "And I love your face!" She squashed Santana's cheeks between her hands, her cup of drink having hastily been plucked out of her hands from a dexterous Latina when she realized just how close she was to receiving a complimentary drenching. "Such a model-esque face," Rachel cooed, smashing her palms up against Santana's cheeks in a manner that made the Latina's lips protrude out like a gaping fish's.
"Dios mio, somebody get the Gremlin off me!" Santana shouted over the din of the loud music pounding out of the speakers. A few turned to see the spectacle that was Rachel straddling Santana and some snickered at the Latina's predicament but nobody came to her assistance.
Santana pushed weakly at Rachel's shoulders, not really wanting to hurt the girl because a) it was painfully obvious that Berry was drunk off her nut, b) Santana always let her emotions get the best of her when she was drunk and c) Quinn would murder her should anything happen to the girl. However, the last fuse of her patience all but fizzled out when Rachel grabbed her breast and gave it hearty squeeze, the action causing Santana's eyes to bug out. When Rachel yelled "honk!" in a rather obnoxiously loud voice, Santana had had enough.
"Alright, that's it!" In a quick movement, she flipped them so that Rachel was suddenly lying flat on her back on the couch, with Santana hovering above her. "If you so much as touch me again, troll, so help me, I will…"
The rest of what Santana was going to say was cut off when Rachel reached up and wrapped both arms around the back of her neck before forcefully pulling her down for a sloppy, drunken, wet kiss. Santana squeaked and quickly tried to pry herself off Rachel but for a vertically challenged girl, Rachel was surprisingly strong. She almost gagged with she felt Rachel's tongue swipe over her lower lip.
"What the HELL is going on here?"
Santana suddenly found herself flying off Rachel and onto the floor. She looked up blearily to see one pissed off Quinn Fabray towering over her, eyes flashing brimstone and fire.
'Oh, shit.'
Knowing that look, Santana quickly scrambled to her feet and immediate ventured to the far end of the coffee table, effectively putting the object between her and the fuming blonde. "It's not my goddamn fault, Quinn. Your midget came onto me!" Santana quickly explained. She suppressed a shiver when she saw Quinn narrow her eyes dangerously. Alcohol and Quinn always brought out the blonde's inner demon. She wasn't just an angry drunk, she was a mean drunk.
"What did you call her?" Quinn seethed. She took another step forward, her skin fairly tingling with rage, fists clenched at her sides.
Santana quickly backpedaled. "R-Rachel. I called her Rachel," the Latina stammered. Her eyes began darting back and forth desperately, hoping to find Brittany. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Rachel decided to intervene.
"Don't be mad at Sant..Sant…" the diminutive girl visibly wiggled her jaw as she tried to verbalize the Latina's name. Unable to motivate her vocal chords into producing the Latina's name she gave up and began a new rant. "She has really nice boobs," Rachel whispered conspiratorially to Quinn whose nostrils flared in response whilst Santana mentally face palmed.
"I'll deal with you later," Quinn snapped, shoving Rachel back onto the couch where she flailed momentarily before slumping against the cushions, giggling hysterically to herself.
Santana winced when Quinn's incensed gaze snapped back onto her face with palpable force. Santana, having a penchant for bursting into tears when she had too much to drink, found her eyes pricking. She stumbled backward and threw her hands up in the air. "Seriously, Q, I didn't touch your girl. She came out of nowhere and just sat on my lap all drunk and confused. When she tried to cop a feel I threw her onto the couch and was about to leave when she grabbed me and kissed me. I swear on B's life I didn't initiate anything!" Her incessant rant was so reminiscent of Rachel's regular speech patterns that Quinn was momentarily stunned speechless.
The few seconds window was all Santana needed to bolt and she shoved her way through the throng of people milling about, intent on putting as much distance between her and Quinn as possible. When she accidently bumped into someone, she looked up, took one look at Brittany's smiling face and promptly dissolved into tears before throwing herself into the bewildered girl's arms.
As Brittany consoled a hysterically weeping Santana, she could hear Quinn's almighty bellow from the other room. Words like "Rachel!" and "big trouble!" and "don't even think about it!" floated all too clearly over the loud music, the blonde's voice spiking up several decibels with each word. When Brittany found out just exactly what happened the next day, she wasn't all that concerned. Santana did have nice boobs after all. However, that didn't stop the Latina from wanting to crucify Rachel to the nearest lamppost for not only coming onto her but being on the receiving end of Quinn's HBIC attitude for days after. Poor Brittany spent the better part of the school week keeping Santana on a tight leash whenever they were in close proximity to the tiny diva and a physical buffer between Quinn and the Latina.
As for Rachel, the poor girl remained in Quinn's doghouse for the remainder of the month, alternating between groveling and outright begging for forgiveness.
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