Hey guys. It's me again. Sorry I haven't been around. I feel like a bad lover... or Parent that just leaves their child in a park somewhere and never comes back. Well I love you! So please love me again. Let's continue this little story shall we? Remember read, enjoy, review.
Chapter 12
Stacy sat facing the two girls. Her jaw relaxed but her body still as a rock. And if you looked close enough, you could tell she was trying hard to remain seated. But lets back up a little bit shall we?
A few days prior.
Everything had returned to normal in the Berry-Fabray household... Well what some people would consider normal. If you count a full out war happening. A newly replaced couch and a tough week of trying to grow ones eyebrows back. Then yes.. everything had returned to normal. It was just another regular day. Of camera men following around a group of semi-dangerous women.
"Santana... I see you over there. Don't even think about it." Quinn spoke from her seat at the table, eyes glued to the newspaper. The Latina gave her a surprised look.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Santana shot back, hiding the water balloon behind her back. Quinn rolled her eyes with a sigh, folding up the newspaper and placing it on the counter.
"I know what you have hidden behind your back and I also know that it is not filled with water judging on the blue paint that you have on you." Quinn eyed her best friend, keeping her head bitch at bay. Santana's mouth hung open. "Also, we both promised that if our war came down to paint, we wouldnt do it in the house. Rachel would kill us both." She gave her friend the epic eyebrow raise.
"Fine. I won't throw it." Santana walked over to her friend, balloon held out in her hands. Quinn watched her closely. "I'll just put it right...here!" She yelled, flinging the balloon down ontop of Quinn's head, blue paint dripping down on her and all over the counter top.
"Oh my god." Quinn was standing still, taking in the sight of blue everywhere. Ignoring the snickering of Santana and foot steps of her assigned camera man. Rachel was going to be pissed. She whipped around on Santana. "You just killed us both!" She shouted, lunging for the other woman and tackling her to the ground.
And that's how Stacy, Rachel and the rest of the crew found them. Rolling around the house, blue paint all over every surface they had touched and Santana on her knees, stuck in a head lock. Quinn looked up at everyone and released Santana.
"Rach... Uh. Welcome home." She stood up, straightening out her clothing, Santana slowly rising next to her. Both of them looking like caught childern. Which I guess in a sense they were.
Rachel stood still, one hip out and a hand resting upon it. Her jaw locked and eye's burning at both the girls. For a second she could have sworn she saw Santana shutter. Oh this was going to be good.
"Who had the paint?" She asked calmly. Stacy was whispering directions to her crew. "I am going to ask again. Who had the paint?" She kept staring at the two girls. Santana slowly began to raise her hand. Rachel shook her head. "And where does the paint trail start? I wonder..." She turned around.
Walking past Stacy and the crew, Rachel followed the paint splatter, ranging anywhere from hand prints, to streaks on the walls and tables. Part of the floors... Some on the ceiling. But when Rachel entered the kitchen, her heart dropped. Paint. Everywhere.
"Oh my... Oh.." She stammered, really looking at the room. Paint on the counter top. Where it began. It had dripped into the drawers, all over their silverware. A small puddle was on the floor. The stove.. Oh god. Everything was covered. How much paint was in that damn balloon?!
"We will clean it Rach. I promise." Quinn spoke softly.
"Damn right you will." Rachel snarled, pushing past them.
"I want you to keep an eye on her. If they are in a paint war. Santana will sneak it anyway she can." Rachel whispered to Stacy, getting in her car. They had decided that Quinn and Santana need more supervision. So Stacy decieded to stay behind.
"Don't worry about it. Since day one, I have not felt any fear Of Miss Santana Lopez." Stacy smirked, closing Rachel's door for her. "I got it. Santana won't know what will hit her." She chuckled, going to turn when a blonde ran into her.
"Oh! Sorry Stacy." Quinn muttered, holding the woman up. "I wanted to say goodbye to Rach." She rushed past the girl and almost throw herself in Rachel's face. She was met with an eyebrow raise.
"Hi Honey." Rachel semi smiled, starting her car. Quinn just leaned in and stole a kiss from her. One that lingered a little bit too long.
"Have a good day at work." The blonde whispered when she pulled away. Rachel just beamed at her wife and backed out the driveway.
Stacy had an uneasy feeling.
"Aw shit, We seriously got left with the babysitter today?" Satnana groaned, walking thru the front door. Stacy walked right up to her.
"Stand still." She walked around the Latina, inspecting her. Santana raised an eyebrow, while Quinn snickered. "I was given instructions to search you." She put her hands out, patting Santana down.
"Whoa! Watch it there Daniel's. I only let one woman touch me that way and even though she is sweet, she can be mean." She stepped away from the producer and into the livingroom. "So becareful next time you decide to listen to Rachel." She smirk right as Stacy walked under the doorway.
"Santana!" She screamed, as a half filled bucket of bright pink paint fell on her. Quinn groaned deeply. Rachel really was going to kill her now, plus her back still hurt from cleaning all the paint up yesterday. "You are so dead." Stacy pointed one finger at Santana. It was one finger, but enough to make the other woman shake.
So here we are. Back at the beginning... Or end depending on how you look at it. With Stacy staring down two girls and a frantic Rachel rushing inside.
"What happened?" Rachel bounced into the room, sliding on the paint and crashing into the couch.
"Santana!" All three of them screamed the name. Quinn out of anger for a stupid paint war, Rachel for nearly killing herself, and Stacy for being covered in it.
The front door slammed open and the last thing they saw was a figure bolting for the streets.
