you guys. brittanacon. my feels have not subsided since and i trust i will be this ecstatic, f-bomb-dropping fangirl for life. one who takes selfies with cardboard cutouts and drinks whole bottles of fireball while playing glee uno and stuffing myself with breadsticks. i am so happy to have met all of you amazeballs people, you're all perfect. oh and #brittanaordiebitches
this part is dedicated to my buddy ijustkeepitmovin who heckles me just enough to keep me motivated and tortures me every day with food blogging. mad hugz, brobot. 3
character(s): Santana L. & Brittany P.
summary: Santana and Brittany have been rivals in the college hockey world for the past four years. now they're both at Olympic tryouts to play on the same team and Boston and Minnesota just don't get along, okay?
As Santana pulls her duffle over her shoulder and exits the locker room, she hears voices. Stopping a few feet from Coach Taylor's office on her way out of the rink, she hears a woman through the slightly ajar office door and down the deserted hallway. It was late Sunday evening and Santana thought she was the last one here. She hadn't seen another soul for the last hour, save the rink manager who told her to kill the lights on her way out because he had a family to get home to. She and Quinn had decided to get in some extra one-on-one practice but Quinn bailed over an hour ago, rolling her eyes when Santana suggested shooting practice.
"…you cannot be serious right now, Eric," said the voice. Santana couldn't make out a face through the frosted glass, but the woman was tall and appeared to have short blonde hair.
"Look, Sue, we agreed when I took this job that this was my team and I make the personnel decisions." Coach Taylor sounded pissed off. "I know the right players that we need out on that ice in order to do our best in February, and you can all either trust that or you can find yourself another head coach."
The woman gave an exasperated sigh. "The advisory board need to have a say in this," she reasoned.
"Not going to happen, Sue," he answered resolutely.
Santana saw the woman lift a menacing finger. "You're telling me after one week, one single week of double sessions and one measly scrimmage that you've already seen enough?"
"Yes, ma'am, I am. You already knew I was making the first round of cuts after week one, so I might as well just rip off the proverbial Band-Aid, so-to-speak."
Santana's breath hitched as she started to put the pieces together. This woman must be Sue Sylvester, chairman of the board for the US Olympic hockey program and the one who hired Coach Taylor for this job.
"You realize Figgins and the rest of the board are going to have my head on a pike for this, right? You better hope you and your merry band of ice dancers have what it takes when the games roll around. Expectations are high and you know it's going to take minimum silver."
The last women's US hockey coach only lasted for one Olympic games and was fired for failing to make the gold medal round. Santana felt the pressure of Coach Taylor's job security settle heavily onto her own shoulders, her heartbeat speeding up.
"I certainly won't be promising anything, Sue, as I've told you before. If there's someone you think who is better suited for this job, I wouldn't be here. Now trust me to do it."
The woman huffed with frustration. "I'm not happy about this, Eric, but for some stupid reason I'm going to support you. Don't make me regret it."
Santana retreated quickly back around the corner at the sight of Sue Sylvester turning to storm out of the office and made sure to take the long way out of the rink to avoid Coach Taylor finding out she was there at all.
Santana's hands were shaking by the time she made it across campus and back to her dorm. She was winded from running the whole way and threw open the door in such a rush that Brittany dropped the open bottle of nail polish she was holding all over her duvet.
"Fuck!" Brittany swore, righting the bottle on the nightstand and springing off the bed towards the paper towels, vibrant red polish dripping like blood from her fingers in rivulets down her forearms. "Where's the fire, San?" she asked, eying her visibly frazzled roommate up and down while wiping her hands and mopping up the spilled paint seeping into the bedcovers.
"Coach is announcing… final cuts tomorrow," Santana manages between breaths.
Brittany stops and lifts her widened eyes to meet Santana's, eyebrows pulling high up on her forehead in surprise. "Shit, already? How do you know?"
"I was doing some shooting practice just now at the rink…"
"Of course you were," Brittany interrupts, sounding both amused and not even a little surprised to hear what Santana was up to all evening.
"Shut up and let me finish, you can make fun of my overachiever-ness after." Brittany nods and her brow furrows into a stoic look of rapt attention. Santana starts to pace.
"I was going to leave and was walking by Coach's office and heard him talking with Sue Sylvester. The door was cracked open and I'm sure they thought the place was empty. Supposedly he's got his twenty players picked and the advisory board are not going to be happy. She basically said a week of time was not appropriate to pick the team and pretty much said his future in the job is banking on us getting silver or better."
Santana watched Brittany's mouth fall open slightly as she also realized the gravity of what Santana had overheard. Not only was the team picked earlier than expected, but now anything less than silver would not only be a failure for their country and themselves, but also a career tainted for their coach.
"I think we should keep this to ourselves," Santana thought aloud as she continued to pace the length of the room. "No use stressing everyone out even more, right?" she asks, turning to Brittany for validation who nods in agreement but looks just as worried as Santana feels.
"Quinn is going to kill me when she finds out about this," Santana groans, flopping face first onto her bed and burying her head under the pillow.
The next morning, Santana and Brittany arrive to the rink to find Coach Roz blocking the locker room entrance and redirecting all players to the stands. There's ten or so girls already scattered among the section of seats behind the far goal, a few of them anxiously eyeing Coach Taylor who leans one shoulder against the glass separating him from the ice and idly taps a rolled up paper against his leg.
Brittany follows as Santana finds a seat towards the front, sitting alongside her and knocking their knees together affectionately. It's going to be okay.
Santana grabs Brittany's hand and squeezes it quickly in return. I know.
"…Berry, Cohen-Chang, Corazon," the rink was dead quiet as Coach Taylor read out the names for the final roster, his voice echoing across the empty arena and up into the rafters. The uneasiness around Santana was palpable.
"Fabray, Henderson, Johnson, Jones, Lopez," at that Santana had sucked in a breath, holding it for a beat.
A few more names and then, "Pierce." Exhale.
She knew there was next to no chance in hell that either her or Brittany would not have made the final roster, but Santana couldn't help but be weary nonetheless. Some of her friends were about to go home after just one week of tryouts and she knew there was no consolation for that.
As Coach Taylor read off the last few names on the list, Santana could hear a few watery sniffles behind her, her heart heavy for her friends, but also soaring for her new teammates.
She focused back on Coach Taylor as he clears his throat. "You are all here because you are extraordinary hockey players. This doesn't change that. Thank you all for coming out and giving me your very best." Short and sweet and to the point seems to be the Coach Taylor style.
There are a few muffled thank you's and Santana keeps her eyes forward as the players whose names didn't get called stand and file out to pack up their lockers. She can see Brittany nervously bobbing her leg up and down out of the corner of her eye and fights the urge to lay her hand on it to settle her.
When the rink is quiet once more, Coach Taylor tucks the roster into his back pocket and looks out over the team. "We all know the goal, now it's time to start working towards that goal. That's it for this morning ladies, we'll see you back here at 3 pm suited up and ready to go."
As the coaches retreat to their offices, the room buzzes with excited chatter and Quinn throws her arms around Santana's neck from the row behind, trapping her in a loose headlock.
"We did it," she congratulates, squeezing Santana tighter. Santana can tell just by her tone of voice that she's smiling ear-to-ear, jubilant laughter on the tip of her tongue.
Santana feels a swell of pride as she let's the feeling sink in, a dumb goofy grin spreading across her face. Olympian. As if Brittany could hear her thoughts, she grins open-mouthed at Santana and reaches out to grab her hand, this time not letting go.
A/N: Thanks for reading, everyone. I know the updates are short but I should have another part coming out over the next few days. I am planning to stick with this for at least a few more parts before I jump back into Unicorn Turds. As always, the reviews/likes/follows are always very much appreciated, y'all rock :D