Title: A Slippery Slope
Author: slacker_d
Pairing/Characters: Rachel/Santana, Will, New Directions, Sue, Dr. Lopez, Mrs. Lopez, Marisa Lawson, Figgins
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Reactions and consequences to Rachel being slushied.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: ~13, 050
Spoilers: Not really, though reading the previous story would probably help.
A/N: Technically starts before the end of Assume Crash Positions.
"Can you believe Mr. Schue?" Santana says, pacing in Rachel's room.
Quinn gave Brittany a ride home, leaving Santana to head over to Rachel's. Now that the relationship is out in the open, Santana has permission to spend the evenings after glee at Rachel's. Santana thinks her mom feels bad about Rachel being home alone so much. Santana has similar feelings, so she's glad it's expected that she be at Rachel's now.
"As I said before," Rachel replies, not looking up from her homework. "I'm not surprised."
"I know you and Mr. Schue don't really get along, but still."
"This is the man who tried to trick me into confessing to being the prankster," Rachel reminds Santana.
"Yeah, I remember. And I know I don't have the right, but the fact that he blew off that slushie like that really pisses me off."
"I noticed," Rachel replies wryly.
"Why aren't you more pissed off?"
"I find it better to channel that anger elsewhere. Besides, it's a futile exercise. Being mad at Mr. Schue is like being mad at the puppy that just peed on the carpet."
"Are you calling Mr. Schue a dog?"
"It's a simile," Rachel replies.
"So that's a yes."
"Santana."
"He deserves worse," Santana mumbles.
"Perhaps," Rachel allows. "But he's still our teacher and so we're supposed to treat him with respect."
"That's a two way street."
"We'll get there."
"Though, you threatening him was choice," Santana smirks.
"As I said before, I wasn't making a threat," Rachel says. "I was simply informing the occupants of the room that something which negatively affects my girlfriend and my bro who were defending my honor isn't a good thing. People will interpret things how they wish."
"C'mon. Just say it."
They stare at each other for a moment.
"Fine," Rachel huffs. "Yes, that was me threatening people on your behalf."
"Awww, thanks, babe."
"The fact that Mr. Schue would turn you guys in really gets to me," Rachel admits. "It's one thing for him to be like that with me. I'm used to it."
"You shouldn't stand for it," Santana tells her.
"What would you like me to do?"
"I don't know? Do another slushie pool prank and push him in? He deserves it," Santana growls.
"Easy tiger," Rachel replies. "I'm willing to admit it would be gratifying to witness, but I just don't think I can. Every time I do something similar to Mr. Schue, I always feel guilty afterwards."
Santana looks confused. "How many times have you pranked Schue?"
"Um, a few times."
"Huh," Santana replies. "I'm starting to think you don't share enough."
…
Santana's still stewing over Mr. Schue's brush off when she gets home that night. Someone needs to teach him a lesson. Santana had hoped that maybe Rachel would take up that mantle, but apparently not. So being the doting girlfriend she is, it seems that it's up to Santana.
Knowing Rachel is right, though she'd never tell her, Santana begins planning. Feeling some vengeful gleefulness, she starts a list in her Spanish notebook.
The first thing Santana knows for sure is that she's slushieing Mr. Schue to see how he likes it. And it's going to happen every day for at least a week, if not more, so he can understand how it feels.
Santana knows she has no idea how it feels either, but she's managed to pry the information out of Rachel. It took some doing; her girlfriend initially wasn't willing to share. Apparently, the key to her forgiving nature lay partly in letting the past stay in the past, making her less willing to talk about slushies.
Looking over the basic plans she's made, Santana realizes she'll need help. She'll have to ask Britt to help. Maybe Quinn will too. She seemed pretty annoyed with Mr. Schue as they were walking to the parking lot.
Tomorrow she'll talk to her best friends and start gathering the necessary provisions. Santana grins to herself; this is going to be fun.
…
Wednesday morning, Santana practically bounces into McKinley, though she'd never admit it out loud. While getting ready earlier, Santana remembered that Rachel actually had a slushie cannon she used to torture Stacey Hudson. Borrowing it is step one of getting the materials she needs. She'd texted Rachel who agreed to bring it and surprisingly didn't question why Santana wanted it.
She finds Quinn first, who is predictably at her locker.
"Hey Q."
"Santana."
"I need help with a little project this week. Wanna help?"
"What's wrong with asking Berry?"
"I don't think she'd approve."
Now Quinn's intrigued. "Explain."
Santana looks around, but everyone's staying as far away as possible.
"I wanna show Schuester that slushies are a big deal," Santana says, lowering her voice. "I'm gonna slushie him for like a week at least."
"What? Why?"
"You heard him yesterday," Santana replies. "I want him to know it is a big deal."
"Like you would know," Quinn scoffs.
"Well, not exactly, but I know what it did to Rach," Santana says. "And I hate how flippant he was about her being slushied."
"But you're keeping it from Berry," Quinn ventures.
"Yeah," Santana admits. "She'll think it's hilarious, but then she'll feel guilty-"
"Why?"
"She's too nice for her own good."
"That's for sure."
"And I don't want that, so I'm just going to not mention it to her," Santana says.
"Won't she notice Mr. Schue is getting slushied?" Quinn asks.
"Maybe," Santana admits. "But she won't ask me about it."
"Why?"
"We don't ask questions we don't want the answer to."
"That's… healthy."
Santana shrugs. "It works for now."
…
Finn doesn't understand what's happening. He thought for sure Puck would tell Rachel or at the very least, Santana about his role in Rachel being slushied. He was certainly pissed off enough. A triple swirlee seems pretty harsh to him. But when he sees Rachel in the hall Wednesday morning, she just smiles. Later when he passes Santana on his way to lunch, she just ignores him; which isn't unusual.
He's pretty sure Puck didn't tell Rachel because they both know how she'll react. Finn's grateful because Rachel's disappointed face is one that he really hates to cause.
It occurs to Finn that maybe Santana does know and is just bidding her time. He wouldn't put it past her. She's devious like that. He prays it's just Puck sparing the girls' feelings because otherwise, he's screwed.
…
Santana doesn't really see Brittany until lunch.
"Where have you been hiding?"
"I've been keeping Rachy company," Brittany answers. "Trying to distract her from everyone's reaction to her."
"What are they doing?"
"They're treating her like a leaper," Brittany says. "I think it's weirding her out."
"Oh. Maybe I should go be the comforting girlfriend," Santana replies, looking around the lunchroom.
"You can't," Brittany tells her. "She's tutoring Melissa."
"Marisa," Santana corrects. "Again?"
Brittany nods.
"That freshman just better keep her hands to herself," Santana mutters.
"She wouldn't dare," Brittany replies.
Catching something in the blonde's tone, Santana stares at Brittany for a moment. "Good to know."
"You were looking for me?
"Yeah," Santana says. "I wanna do a week long slushie marathon on Mr. Schue."
"For Rachel?"
Santana nods.
"But you're not doing it with Rach cause she'll feel guilty?"
Santana nods again, smirking. She should have known Britt would understand.
"Sounds like fun."
…
After Cheerios' practice, they all head to Santana's house. Quinn doesn't want to deal with her mom and Santana doesn't want to deal with Britt's little sister, so her house is the only logical choice.
They stop in the kitchen to get something to drink.
"Hi Mrs. Lopez."
"Quinn. It's been a while. It's lovely to see you again."
"You too, Mrs. Lopez."
"No Rachel?"
Quinn looks at her in surprise. Santana just rolls her eyes.
"Not today mom. She has a voice lesson."
"Well she's still coming to dinner Sunday isn't she?" Mrs. Lopez asks.
"Yes, mom, she is," Santana replies, exasperated.
"All right. Nice to see you again, Quinn. Brittany."
They head upstairs to Santana's room
"Your mom really likes Rachy," Brittany says, plopping down on Santana's bed.
"Yeah, I know," Santana replies. "Better than me, I think."
"Duh," Brittany says, smirking.
This earns her a pillow to the face.
Quinn sits at Santana's desk and watches the pillow fight. "It's nice to see you two are still just as ridiculous."
"Whatever Fabray," Santana says. "You're too fucking uptight anyway."
Brittany gets in a good wallop causing Santana to lose her balance and bounce onto the bed.
"I win!" Brittany crows.
…
Once Brittany and Santana have settled down, they try to focus at the task at hand.
"I took a page from Rachel's book," Santana says. "And drew up a plan."
"Rachel's book?" Quinn asks.
"Cause she always plans things out before she takes on a big project," Brittany explains.
"Right," Quinn says. "Of course."
"Anyway, I think the first couple should be in his office," Santana continues. "I figure even after the first one or two, he won't think another is coming. Especially if the timing is different each time."
"And how are you going to pull that off?"
"Set a timer," Santana answers.
"How are we going to set all this up?" Quinn asks.
"We'll break in after hours, silly," Brittany answers. "I know how to pick locks."
"Oh yeah, I forgot."
"Anyway, I also have a small cannon we can set up that shoots slushies," Santana continues.
"Why do you have something like that?" Quinn asks.
"Because I just do," Santana answers.
"Okay. Don't get snippy."
"Well, if you would stop interrupting me," Santana says.
"Yeah, well, I have questions. You don't explain things very well," Quinn tells her.
"Maybe you're not paying the proper attention."
"I'm listening just fine, thank you very much," Quinn snarks back.
"How many days are you gonna slushie him, S?" Brittany interrupts.
"I was hoping to start tomorrow and go through at least next Friday."
"Seriously, S?" Quinn asks. "That seems like a lot."
"It has to be if he's going to learn his lesson," Santana tells her.
"I can't believe we're really doing this,"
"Hey, no one's making you," Santana points out.
"I know," Quinn replies. "I want to. It's been a while since we've schemed together."
"True."
"You do a lot of scheming with Rachel?"
"Um, she does it enough on her own," Santana answers. "Occasionally, though."
"Figures," Quinn mutters.
"What?" Santana snaps.
"Nothing," Quinn replies sullenly.
"Stop with the martyr routine."
"Leave her alone, San," Brittany says. "She's just feeling sad because Rachel is even more awesome than she thought."
"Oh."
"Brittany."
"So where are other good places to slushie him that we know he'll be there at a certain time and place?"
"When he's teaching," Quinn says. "But are you really going to slushie him in front of a class? That seems particularly harsh."
Santana seems to mull this over a moment. "I suppose you're right. Maybe at the end if we think he still hasn't learned his lesson."
"You're kind of taking this rather seriously," Quinn comments.
"Hey. No one messes with my girl," Santana replies. "Especially not curly haired teachers who have never been on her side."
"And he should be," Brittany adds. "Rachel's super."
Quinn sighs. "I know."
"Sorry, Q," Brittany says. She jumps up and engulfs Quinn in a hug. "Don't worry. We'll find you someone who's perfect for you like Santana is for Rachy."
"Thanks Britt."
…
As Mike changes after practice, he watches Finn stay clear of Puck. The quarterback isn't that subtle. He's been avoiding Puck all day, going so far in practice to not even throw him the ball. Mike thought Coach was going to actually shake him.
Though watching Puck right now, Mike wonders if maybe Finn is smarter than they give him credit for. The wink Puck just threw Mike isn't reassuring. Assuming Puck wasn't hitting on him, then he's up to something really not good for Finn. Mike watches as Puck speaks quietly to their teammates. Once he's done and moving on to someone else, the jock looks pissed off and begins searching the locker room. The anger in their eyes makes Mike glad that Finn dressed quickly and fled.
Mike knows he should probably do something, but he tries to stay out of these things. He prefers to witness and learn than actually get involved in the ridiculous drama. Some weeks it's better than TV.
Besides, he's kind of pissed at Finn as well. Mike know he doesn't have all the information about what went down between Finn and Rachel and Santana, but he doesn't think Rachel deserves to be slushied by a friend. Well, he doesn't think anyone deserves to be slushied, but those that were terrorized by it before? Definitely should never have to experience it again.
Feeling rather grim, Mike gathers his stuff and heads home, ignoring the rumbling growls that follow him out of the locker room.
…
Santana already knows the joy of pranking and breaking the rules. However, it's been quite a while since she's done anything major. The times with Rachel don't count. She kind of misses it. Maybe she should try to join Rachel more often. Or maybe start doing her own stuff. The school could be under the thumb of two pranksters. They'd be quaking in their boots or whatever.
As she sets the stuff up to spring on Mr. Schue, Santana wonders if there's a more efficient way to do this. Her brain screams to ask Rachel, but Santana knows that won't work. Her girlfriend would most likely just scold her and not offer too much help.
And besides, she's Santana fucking Lopez. She doesn't need anyone's help to be a badass. She's gotten lax because she's had other things to distract her. But she's definitely been losing badassery points lately. She'll have to work on that.
She stops at Britt's house and texts her. A moment later, a blonde head is sticking out Brittany's bedroom window and the blonde is climbing onto a tree by her window. She shimmies down the tree like a monkey and lands on the ground with a flourish. If they weren't trying to be sneaky, Santana might have more patience and would clap.
"Britt," Santana hisses.
Brittany nods and scurries to the car, slipping quietly inside.
"Hi Santana," Brittany whispers loudly as Santana backs out of her driveway.
"Hey, B."
…
As Santana stands back to admire her work, she can't help but wonder if there's any aspect of her life that Rachel hasn't affected. The intricate detail needed to pull this off is more than she's ever attempted with anything. This whole thing is simple in idea, but complex in execution.
"Not to mention, you're doing it for Rachel," Brittany adds.
Santana looks over at the blonde in confusion.
"You were thinking out loud," Brittany clarifies.
"Oh."
"Don't be sad, San," Brittany continues. "You've changed her plenty. I mean, did you ever think Rachel Berry would pull pranks on a regular basis? Or blatantly threaten Mr. Schue? Or somehow get on the rare good side of Coach Sylvester?"
"I guess not."
"Maybe you guys bring out the best in each other."
"I'm not sure best is the right word. We bring out something in each other that's for sure."
"Best is the right word," Brittany answers. "You guys just aren't using it right at the moment. You'll see later."
Santana smiles. "I hope you're right Britt."
"Of course I'm right, silly."
…
Thursday morning starts out typical for Will. He gets up, gets ready and has some coffee before heading to McKinley. Sitting at his desk, humming Keep Holding On to himself, Will begins to look over his lesson plan for the day.
When suddenly he feels a rush of cold and wet.
Will finds himself covered with grape slushie.
Looking up, he sees a large plastic up hanging from the ceiling. He wipes the sugary ice from his face and heads to the bathroom to clean up.
Once he's wiped off as much as he can, he heads back to his office. Warily, he sits. Looking up at the still tilted cup. Trying to ignore the massive amount of stickiness he feels, Will attempts to work again.
Only to be shocked by a frontal blast of grape slushie.
Wiping the slush from his eyes, Will sees a hose at the other end of his desk. Standing, he walks around his desk to investigate. The hose is attached to a pole that taped to his desk. He follows it to the floor where he finds another empty slushie cup.
He kicks the empty cup in frustration.
After cleaning up in the bathroom, again. Will seeks out Sue.
…
"Sue!"
Sue looks up as her door is thrown open, hitting the wall with a lot of force. There in her doorway, stands Will fuming and apparently covered in something.
"You wanted something, William?" Sue drawls. "Your manners are less than impeccable today."
"You know exactly what this is about," Will fumes. He gestures to his clothing. "You slushied me."
Sue smirks. "I'm pretty sure I didn't," she replies. "Trust me. I would remember and relish that moment."
"Who else would it be?" Will asks. "Who else would set up a slushie cup to fall on me?"
"I can think of a couple people, actually," Sue replies. "Maybe the prankster?"
"Why would the prankster go after me?"
"Maybe he's going after all the incompetent teachers. You'd definitely fit the bill there."
"I do just fine, thank you very much," Will replies.
"Please," Sue scoffs. "The kids here can't even order properly at Taco Bell™, must less any place that actually speaks Spanish. They definitely don't habla español."
"My kids do just fine, Sue."
"Yes, well good luck with the slushies," Sue says, waving him out. "Nasty, sticky business, I hear."
"This isn't over, Sue."
"I expect nothing less, William."
…
Will actually considers cancelling glee. He's not sure how to face the kids looking like he does. Thankfully, he has another shirt on underneath his shirt. If anyone asks, he'll just say he split coffee on it.
When he enters the room, the noise dies immediately. Will feels embarrassed even if he's done nothing wrong. Logically he knows the kids were most likely not discussing him, just something they don't want him to know about. Though that list isn't particularly comforting either.
Still after the discussion that happened on Tuesday, the room feels different. Will doesn't want to say things have changed, but maybe they have.
…
Watching Santana, Brittany and Quinn huddled together during glee makes Kurt and Mercedes even more curious than usual. They have no idea what to think about that development.
"Maybe they're just comparing notes on being Rachel's Berry's girlfriend," Kurt suggests.
"And Brittany?"
Kurt shrugs. "She's probably dating Rach too. I wouldn't be surprised."
"Wouldn't she have said something?"
"It's Brittany."
Mercedes nods in agreement while wondering how that's even a legitimate argument.
…
Friday, Will enters his office feeling apprehensive. It's logical that Sue would continue her attack with more slushies. He checks his surroundings before he sits down. He checks his ceiling, his chair and his desk, but can see no evidence of any sort of slushie throwing device.
Maybe it was just a one day thing. The double dose was to really surprise him and Will can admit whoever did it, succeeded.
This becomes more evident when the first bell rings and he hasn't been slushied. He lets himself relax a bit as she exits his office.
Only to have another grape slushie fall on him as he exits his office. He groans, thankful he at least closed his eyes this time. The burn of sugar is rather painful.
Eyes still closed, he feels some chuckles, but ignores them as he wipes his eyes clear. Thankfully only a handful of people witnessed it. Sighing, he heads towards the bathroom to clean up again.
…
Santana is pleased how her little project is going. When she catches a glimpse of Mr. Schue throughout the day, she can make out fade slushie stains. It's part of the reason she chose grape, it's definitely visible. Though Santana knows blue raspberry would have been for that, but Santana didn't want to advertise what she was doing. Not yet, anyway. Besides, grape is Rachel's favorite and she's doing this for Rachel, Santana thinks it's only right.
…
Finn is shoved into a locker for the tenth time today. He glares at Karofsky but the hockey player just laughs and pushes him again as he and Azimio strut away.
He's starting to get paranoid. For a moment he wonders if he got a girl pregnant again, but even he knows that's impossible since he's no way even close to having sex with anyone. Still, he can't figure out why all the jocks are suddenly going after him.
He thinks maybe Puck's behind it, but he can't figure out how. It's not like the hockey players care if Rachel is slushied. Maybe they're pushing the whole gay thing again since he and Kurt have been hanging out around school. Though now that they're brothers, he doesn't see why that would matter.
He's glad when it's finally the end of the day, so he can have a bit of a break from all the harassment. Maybe this weekend, he can figure out what the hell's going on.
…
"You up for a prank tonight?" Rachel asks Puck.
"Always."
"Excellent, Rachel replies. "I feel like it's been ages."
Puck doesn't reply, just smirks.
"What?"
"You're totally addicted to it,"
"What? Why would you say such a thing?" Rachel asks indignant.
"Because it's true," he replies. "You can't go too long without pulling something, even if it's small."
"This one is definitely not small," Rachel retorts.
"Still," Puck continues, grinning. "I totally got you addicted to being a badass. I have managed to corrupt the great Rachel Berry."
"Have you been drinking already?" Rachel asks. "And it wasn't just you. Santana helped."
Puck is now dancing around the room in celebration.
Rachel watches, an amused expression beginning, before she tries to scowl again.
"Come on, Berry," Puck says. "Dance with me."
Puck grabs Rachel's left hand with his right and begins twirling her around before leading her around the room. Counting off the steps, Rachel finds it's something between a waltz and a fox trot. It shouldn't work so smoothly, but it does.
"Ballroom dancing," Puck tells her before she can ask. "Jewish Community Center. Remember? We were ten?"
"Of course I remember," Rachel replies. "I'm just surprised that you do."
"Just cause the Puckasauraus is a badass, doesn't mean he forgets. Besides, in a few years, this will totally impress the chicks. You know that whole bad boy with a heart of gold or whatever."
"Couldn't you just be a good guy?"
"Nah," Puck replies. "What fun is that?" He manages to surprise her with a small dip and she giggles as he smiles charmingly. "See," Puck says. "My charm is chick getting gold."
…
Once Rachel deems it late enough, they head to McKinley. They unload the supplies from the truck and put it in the Radio Flyer™ wagon Rachel brought along. She quickly picks the lock on the side door and they slip inside.
"Do I even want to know how you figured this out?" Puck asks, pulling the wagon behind him.
"I don't know," Rachel replies, quietly. "How much do you care about my planning process?"
"Depends," Puck says. "Does the answer involve a long Berry rant?"
"I don't know. Ask me and we'll see where I end up."
"That's okay," Puck replies. "Maybe later."
They work in silence. It takes longer than Puck thought and shorter than Rachel anticipated. She knows all this work will most likely go over people's heads because it all seems so simple. However, she believes in a job well done.
Puck just wonders how Rachel's mind works. Or at least how she thinks of these things.
…
Sunday evening once again find Rachel knocking on the Lopez front door. She's empty handed this time, but was told not to bring a thing.
"Except your sparkling personality," Santana had grumbled before she left that morning.
"Don't sound too complimentary," Rachel had replied.
"An exact quote from my mom. She threatened grounding if I didn't rely the info exactly like that."
"Oh."
So despite feeling like she should have brought something, she didn't.
This time the door is answered by Santana. She's pulled inside before she can utter a greeting. Once the door is firmly clicked shut, Rachel finds herself pressed against it being thoroughly kissed. She tries to fight it because getting caught making out is definitely not on the agenda for the evening. However, the way Santana's tongue is curling around hers is very distracting; she decides to try and enjoy the sweetness of the moment because despite the fact that Santana's parents could walk in on them at any moment, there's so much intensity and love in the kiss that Rachel actually feels overwhelmed.
"Hi," Rachel breathes when they finally break apart for air.
"Hey babe."
"Missed me, did you?"
Santana actually blushes. "Maybe."
"It's nice to see you too."
"If you two are done molesting each other in the entryway, do you think we could sit down to dinner?"
Santana's arms are still wrapped around her and apparently her girlfriend has no intention of letting go, so Rachel turns the best she can while still encircled by Santana.
"Sorry, Tomás," Rachel says. "But I couldn't turn down a greeting like that."
Luckily he just smirks. "Come on, you can hold hands under the table and play footise."
"Papa," Santana whines. "Footise. Really?"
Tomás winks at Rachel as he offers her his arm. She links arms and walks with him to the table. Fingers still laced with Santana's, she drags her girlfriend along behind them.
"…own father hitting on my girlfriend." Rachel hears Santana mumble behind them, causing her to giggle.
Still they hands never separate as they sit at the table and Clara joins them. They stay joined throughout the whole meal. Thankfully Rachel is just ambidextrous enough to be able to eat with her left hand.
…
Santana knows she threw Rachel off a bit with her greeting. She couldn't help it. She hadn't realized until today what hiding her relationship with Rachel from her family was doing to her. But now that the burden seems to be lifted and there weren't any of the negative consequences she was expecting didn't happen, she can almost relax.
She blames it on her father. He had pulled her aside earlier that afternoon for a serious father daughter talk.
"We haven't had a chance to really discuss your relationship with Rachel," he had told her.
Santana had felt the apprehension churning in her stomach. This is exactly what she was afraid of.
"We can start," he continued. "By you telling me about your reluctance to tell us."
Santana shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.
"Santana."
"I don't know why you're surprised," she had replied. "I don't talk about a lot of things with you guys."
"Perhaps. But this was to such an extreme point."
"What does it matter?"
This was met with a silent stare.
"I don't know. Maybe because I never felt like this before? Maybe I was scared. Maybe I was worried about what you'd think. I mean, me and Britt was never really anything serious. And I thought maybe that's why you guys were so cool about it. But me and Rach? It's serious."
"I'm sure it is," he had told her. "But you two are in high school. There's a big wide world out there."
"Don't care. We're it for each other."
"You're seventeen."
"I know. Doesn't matter."
"I'm not trying to discourage you, Santana," he had said. "I simply have concerns."
"I'm good to her. I swear," Santana had told him. "I look out for her. I don't let people say shit to or about her. She knows I have her back."
"And what about her? Does she look out for you?"
"I don't need anyone to look out for me," she had almost sneered.
Another silent stare.
"She does. Sometimes I can't believe it because she's so low on the social totem pole, but she still manages to protect me. But the best thing is that she just seems to get me. Because of that, it sometimes it feels like she does more for me than I do for her."
"I'm sure you both do just fine."
"I mean she even does stuff she doesn't want to. Because I want to."
"Such as?"
"Uh…" The first thing that had come to mind had been the tattoo, but Santana was pretty sure that's a conversation that needs to happen years from now, if never. "I don't know. Little stuff, I guess. Like what movie we watch when we hang out?"
She should have known her father would see through that.
"Santana. What aren't you telling me?"
"Papa, come on, it's no big deal."
"Santana."
Santana took a deep breath, but still couldn't make the words come out.
"Santana Lopez, tell me. Now."
"Wehaveeachother'snamestattooedonus."
This time the silence is extremely uncomfortable and long.
"Please tell me you did it properly, so there were no concerns for infection," he said finally.
Santana supposed she shouldn't have been surprised that her father the doctor would respond like that.
"We did. We were very safe. Rachel wouldn't have it any other way."
"No, I suppose she wouldn't."
The silence that falls this time is less tense, but Santana knows her father is still waiting for something.
"Well," he said finally. "Let me see it."
"What?"
"I want to see it."
"Papa."
"I know it's not someplace inappropriate. That doesn't seem like Rachel's style," her father told her. "Nor is it X rated. So you're going to show me."
"Why?"
"To ease my state of mind at the moment."
Reluctantly, Santana stood and pushed her jeans down and pulled her shirt up.
Her father had looked at it and his eyes widened almost comically. And then he let out a loud, full belly laugh.
Feeling highly embarrassed, Santana fixed her clothes and sat.
When her father finally calmed down, he asked, "What does hers say?"
"Property of Santana Lopez."
Santana could only call his grin, shit eating. "Well good. I'm glad they're both equally possessive and mildly offensive."
"Rachel's idea," Santana muttered.
"I assumed as much."
"Are you going to tell mom?" Santana asked.
"Eventually," he admited. "But for the moment, we'll keep it between ourselves. All right?"
"Felix can never know," Santana told him. "Never."
Her father had chuckled at that. "I won't tell him."
"Thanks, Papa. Does this mean you're okay with me and Rach?"
"More than okay."
He then stood and pulled her into a hug.
"Maybe you'll actually start to believe your mother and I when we tell you we're on your side."
"Yeah, okay."
She'd spent the rest of the afternoon, feeling slightly anxious to see Rachel. It felt like something major had changed. So when she opened the door for Rachel a couple hours later, Santana couldn't help herself. She wanted to kiss her girlfriend, so she did. For once she didn't have to worry about what her parents would think if they saw them.
…
Monday, Will is extremely wary. He checks the ceiling, his chair and his desk, as well as the doorway, but can see no evidence of slushies. He sighs and sits at his desk. When it's time for the students to arrive, he stand and carefully approaches his doorway. He walks through, but nothing happens. Perhaps last week was just an isolated incident.
He is proven wrong when he sits down to lunch in his office. It's safer to eat alone; no confrontations or odd looks in here.
Except once again, he receives a slushie to the face. Feeling confident about it being an isolated incident, Will hadn't checked his desk before he sat. If he had, he might've noticed the hose on the other side of his desk. When Will approaches it, it sprays out more grape slushie directly in his face. Sputtering, he rips it off his desk and whips it into the garbage can.
This subterfuge is more than he expected from Sue. Even if she did prank him for an entire week, he didn't expect to be slushied daily. He could confront her again, but he knows it won't stop the attacks. He'll have to brainstorm counter attacks.
Part Two
Monday morning, no one really notices anything is different until the warning bell for first period rings. Then the students begin rushing to class, only to find that they're unable to go up the stairs. It seems someone's made the stairs a slide.
Some students attempt to walk up anyway, pulling themselves up with the rail, but very few are successful. It doesn't help that once they reach the landing, they have to pull themselves up another flight of stairs.
A few teachers, upon seeing this, simply shrug and go to inform Figgins.
At the other stairwell, people are having a similar experience, though no one's attempting to get up the stairs. They're all huddled together, staring at the plexiglass that has turned the stairs into a slide.
…
"Why is it always Mondays?" Figgins grumbles, following several of his staff down the hall. He can hardly believe what he's hearing and so he has to see it himself. The huddle of students near the stairwell is his first indication. They part and allow him to stand at the bottom.
It looks simple enough. There's a massive piece of plexiglass covering the stairs, making it more like a slide. He yanks two jocks from the crowd and has them attempt to take the plexiglass off. To no avail. It seems that it's very firmly attached. They can't even move it an inch.
"It's screwed down," jock number one tells him, crouching down to examine it.
"Now what?" Someone calls from the crowd of students.
Figgins sighs and does a mental count of how many classrooms are on the second floor. "To the gym," he tells them. "I'll make an announcement in a moment."
Everyone tramples towards the gym, their volume growing as they discuss this very odd development.
Back in his office, he has his secretary tell the students at the other stairwell to go to the lunch room.
"You wanted something, boss?"
Figgins looks up to see his lead janitor standing in front of him. Explaining the odd situation to him, Figgins demands it be fixed by the end of second period.
"We'll do our best, boss," the janitor replies. "But if it's the prankster, it means it was done pretty thoroughly. This guy doesn't fuck around."
Figgins waves him off, knowing full well how the prankster wreaks havoc at this school. "Just get it up immediately." And then Figgins is heading back to his office to make an announcement about the stairs.
"Easier said than done," the janitor mumbles, going off to find his tools.
…
It takes the janitors nearly all day to pry the plexiglass off the stairwell. Because not only were they screwed down, there was also apparently glue involved. It also didn't help that the screws were stripped, making it almost impossible to remove them.
However, the real surprise of the day was the envelop they found under the plexiglass that simply read, To the Janitors.
The lead janitor, Tony, rips it open and pulls out a short note.
Dear Janitorial Staff,
I am very sorry how much work I am causing for you. I know this one was probably the most difficult yet. However, I am having too much fun to stop anytime soon. I hope you understand.
The McKinley Prankster
Tony smiles because yeah, it's been a total pain cleaning up these pranks, but it's also given him and two others job security. Because as long as the prankster's around, Figgins can't fire them; he needs them. Still, it was nice of the kid to apologize. Especially because they've never really gotten a thank you from Figgins about anything they've done.
He debates whether or not to show this note to Figgins and decides not to. Instead, he relays the message to Bob and Mitch, the other two janitors and stuffs the note in his pocket. He knows the principal will just analyze the shit out of the note, in hopes of find a clue. However, Tony is willing to be, he won't find any. The note is typed and probably on the school's computer. Beyond the odd lack of contractions, the note doesn't seem to give anything away. It'll make a nice daily antidote for his wife over dinner tonight.
…
The rest of the day, classes that would be held on the second floor are held haphazardly in the gym and lunch room. Needless to say, not much gets done.
…
"Noah, can I ask you a question?" Rachel asks Puck as they walk to lunch.
"Yeah?"
"Why is Finn getting pushed around so much? I noticed it happening a bit last week, but today it's been especially brutal. I saw his head snap against a locker earlier."
"Good," Puck growls.
"Noah."
"You remember a few weeks ago when Ferguson, Williams and Bester got busted by Figgins for smoking pot in the furnace room? And were suspended for like two weeks?"
"No," Rachel replies.
"Yeah, you do," Puck tells her. "I told you about it. How the stoners were all pissed at the jocks for losing their smoking spot until they found a better one next to the vending machine with a broken lock because they can have a damn Kit Kat whenever they want now?"
"What does this have to do with Finn.
"I told all the jocks that Hudson was the one that let it slip."
"Why?"
"Because he deserves the abuse. And more."
"I'm not so sure about that," Rachel replies. "What did he do?"
Puck stops walking and waits for Rachel to face him. In a very un-Puck-like move, he grabs both her hands. "Trust me, bro. You don't want to know."
"I'm sure I don't," Rachel agrees. "Nonetheless, I would like to know."
"You don't, Rach," Puck replies. "Maybe I'll tell you eventually. But right now you don't want to know."
Rachel's eyes narrow at this statement. "Fine. For now. "But don't think this will be forgotten, Noah."
"Trust me," Puck replies. "I don't."
…
The stairs being turned into a slide is possibly the most ridiculous thing yet and the whole school is abuzz.
"I still think they could have let me ride down it," Artie says at lunch. "It's basically a ramp. It would have been a hell of a ride."
"Safety issues, I'm sure," Tina replies.
"When did this school become so concerned about safety?"
"You just asked the wrong person," Puck tells him. "I bet the janitors would have let you."
"So it's your fault for going to class," Rachel says. "We should have all done it. Stolen a sled or something."
"That would have made a horrible noise," Tina replies. "Something akin to nails on the chalkboard."
"Do they even have chalkboards anymore?" Artie asks.
"You guys are losing focus," Kurt interrupts.
"How so?" Rachel asks.
"If the prankster is going to start pulling such elaborate pranks, we may be in trouble."
"You don't think turning the school into a castle was elaborate enough?" Puck asks.
"I'm not sure you know the proper definition then, Kurt," Artie adds.
"Elaborate inside the school," Kurt clarifies. "I have concerns."
"Maybe you can write the prankster a letter," Mercedes suggests.
"And how would I deliver it?"
"School paper?" Tina offers.
"We have a school paper?"
"No offense Kurt," Rachel says. "But what could you need to say to the prankster?"
"Why do you care?"
"Can't I be curious?"
"Fine," Kurt says. "One, is he going to start doing things a person could consider dangerous-"
"A person?" Puck questions.
"Two," Kurt continues, ignoring him. "What if someone starts trying to copy him? I'll give the prankster credit, everything he's pulling seems safe and relatively harmless. But considering the cretins that attend this school, I can't see us being lucky enough to not suffer something."
"Are there that many possible candidates?" Rachel asks. "I mean who at this school is both badass and cunning enough to pull that off?"
"I have some thoughts."
Rachel sighs. "It's not Santana."
"She's the answer to the question I asked," Kurt replies.
"Where do you think he found all that plexiglass?" Tina asks.
"Hardware store," Puck suggests.
"And no one noticed?"
"This is Lima."
…
Tuesday morning, Will is determined to not be hit by a slushie. He'll check his chair, his desk and the ceiling. Sue Sylvester isn't going to get the best of him.
However, he didn't anticipate an immediate full frontal assault. The moment he steps into his office, he's hit with a wave of grape slushie. It's the worst yet because it hits almost his entire body, sparing only his ankles and feet.
At least he brought a change of clothing he thinks as he wipes the stinging cold syrup from his face. And even though he's still holding the spare clothes, he feels confident that they're still clean and protected in his gym bag.
He hurries to the bathroom and changes. It's not a good start to the morning.
…
Tuesday after glee, Will asks Rachel to stay.
"What do you need Mr. Schue?" Rachel asks primly after everyone else has left.
"I need some revenge ideas," Will answers.
"Um, why?"
"It's for this, uh, screenplay I'm writing," Will stutters.
"Oh. Couldn't you just google stuff?" Rachel questions. "I mean, isn't that what people do? Google stuff?"
Will nods, though internally cursing. Why didn't that occur to him? "I guess," he allows. "I just thought I'd ask you because you're an excellent planner."
"Right," Rachel says. "Is Coach Sylvester going after you again, Mr. Schue?"
Will nods, sadly, knowing he can't tell her what Sue's doing. He knows he'll get no sympathy from Rachel.
"I'm not sure I can help then, Mr. Schue," Rachel tells him. "I don't want to go up against Coach Sylvester."
"Rachel," Will says. "As your teacher, I would take full responsibility for whatever consequences arise."
Rachel grimaces. "You say that, but I'm not so sure. Besides, even if that was true, you can't protect me from Coach Sylvester. She's like a tidal wave. She just takes out everyone and thing in her path."
"She is, uh, forceful," Will agrees. "But that's hardly a reason—"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Schue," Rachel interrupts. "But I can't. I'm sorry."
Will sighs. "It's fine."
"Is it all right if I go then?" Rachel asks. "I'm sure Santana is waiting for me."
"Of course, Rachel," Will answers. "Thanks for your time."
"Bye Mr. Schue."
…
"What'd Schuester want?" Santana asks as they drive to the Berrys'.
"Apparently," Rachel says. "Someone is harassing Mr. Schue. He wanted some ideas of how to strike back."
"Oh. Did you give him any?"
"Of course not," Rachel replies. "He thinks it's Coach Sylvester. Which is absurd, really. However, with that belief being firmly held by him, I can honestly say, I don't want to go against Coach Sylvester."
"Who would?"
"Crazy people and idiots."
"Exactly."
"But isn't it odd?" Rachel muses. "That Mr. Schue is suddenly getting harassed. I wonder how it's happening. Is it the same thing over and over, which definitely would be annoying. Or is it something different each time so he doesn't know what to expect."
"Mystery," Santana agrees.
"Uh huh."
They drive in silence for a moment. Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel notices the grin on Santana's face growing. There are only two reasons for that smile to grow. And Rachel's hands are firmly in her lap. So that leaves only one option.
"What did you do?"
"Whadda mean?"
"You're smirking."
"Maybe I'm just smiling," Santana responds. "Because I'm happy."
"Yes, but why are you so happy?"
"I get the spend the afternoon with my girl," Santana replies. "What other reason do I need?"
"Uh huh," Rachel nods. "Who do you think you're talking to?"
"The most beautiful and talented girlfriend in all of Ohio?"
"Who knows you," Rachel says.
"Yeah. And?"
"Santana."
"Rachel."
It's silent in the car until they reach the Berry residence.
"I suppose this is one of those things I don't want to know and that you'll explain to me later?" Rachel asks as Santana parks in the driveway.
"Yes?"
Rachel doesn't answer, just exits the car.
Santana groans and chases after her.
"Why must you keep things from me?" Rachel asks once Santana catches up to her in her room.
"It's no big deal."
"Noah's doing that too," Rachel says. "And while you both probably have valid reasons, it just makes me feel worse."
"Don't compare me to Puck."
"Why?"
"We just want to protect you," Santana answers.
"Which I appreciate. Really," Rachel says. "But I also resent being treated like a child that can't handle that the world can be cruel. You both know that I am well aware of that fact."
"Rach."
"Unless you're both doing something I'm not comfortable with," Rachel muses. "I suppose then I could interpret your secretiveness as a way to avoid an argument, which I can understand."
"Thank you?"
"Maybe I'm just scared," Rachel continues. "I mean, what if you two are returning to the old ways."
"I would never-"
"It's always been a concern, a fear even, that things will go back to the way they were."
Santana doesn't say anything, just pulls Rachel into her arms.
"I'm being stupid," Rachel mumbles into Santana's shoulder.
"Course not. Sometimes I worry about that too."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Santana answers. "I mean, me and Puckerman are better, but we're still susceptible to peer pressure. We always have been; maybe not as much as some, but more than others."
"You're not reassuring me."
"I'm being honest," Santana tells her. "I figured you'd rather have that."
"Just promise me you're not being too cruel," Rachel says as she falls onto her bed, dragging Santana with her.
"I swear."
…
Wednesday Kurt gives Finn a ride to school.
"I've been meaning to ask you," Kurt says. "How come you're such a target around the halls lately?"
"Um, I'm not sure."
Kurt glances over at Finn out of the corner of his eye. He looks especially sheepish.
"Liar."
"I don't want to talk about it, all right?"
"Finn, I just want to help."
Finn sighs. "I pissed off Puck last week. Maybe this is him getting back at me."
"What'd you do?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Come on, Finn," Kurt says. "I'm sure it's not that big of deal."
"Kurt, just drop it."
"Fine," Kurt huffs. "Forgive me for wanting to help."
…
Will is extremely cautious when he enters his office Wednesday morning. He checks his chair, his desk, the ceiling, the door frame, everywhere he can think of. He finds no evidence and hopes that it's over.
When the bell for first period rings, his confidence grows. Perhaps it was just a few day thing. Well, now he can certainly understand where the kids were coming from. Worrying about being slushied sucks. He's just glad he can return to his normal days.
…
Rachel is pulled into Figgins' office the moment she steps inside McKinley. This time she's anticipating it. She'd been surprised it hadn't happened on Tuesday. He must have been busy dealing with other things.
"I'm sure you know why you're here, Ms. Berry."
"Perhaps you could enlighten me, Principal Figgins."
Figgins sighs. "The prankster has struck again. Perhaps you could provide some insight."
"Sir, I'm not sure why you're continuing this futile exercise," Rachel replies. "You already know what my answer is."
"Why do you keep refusing?"
"I can't tell you things I don't know," Rachel tells him. "Real evidence is one thing, but speculation and rumors have no merit."
"I'm not sure you understand the desperate level I'm at here, Ms. Berry."
"On the contrary," Rachel replies. "The fact that you're constantly harassing me is a very telling sign. However, I can't help you."
"You disappoint me, Ms. Berry."
"Yes, well, I have nothing to say to that." Rachel stands. "If you'll excuse me, I need to visit my locker before first period."
…
It's quiet as Will eats his lunch. Despite the chaos that always seems to be going on in the hall, when the door is closed, he can pretend otherwise. He wonders if that makes him pathetic.
He's just finishing a banana when a rush of cold and ice is dropped on him again. Grape slushie. Again.
Looking up he sees two slushie cups dangling from the ceiling. Several drops fall and one hits him straight in the eye. It stings and he fights back tears.
Standing, he grabs a change of clothes and heads to the bathroom to change.
…
"So I figured out why Finn's getting pushed around," Mercedes tells Kurt as she sits down at the lunch table.
"Yeah?"
"All the jocks think he snitched."
"About what?"
"I'm not sure," Mercedes admits. "But it's about those three guys that got suspended for like two weeks."
"So he broke some sort of jock code?"
Mercedes shrugs. "I guess. Except I can't see him doing that."
"Yeah, me either."
"You think Finn knows?" Mercedes asks.
"Yeah, he does. He thinks Puck's behind it."
"Why?"
"Some lover's spat they're having."
"Maybe if he just apologizes," Mercedes suggests.
"Yeah, maybe," Kurt agrees. "Problem is, doesn't seem like he will."
"Then I guess he's stuck being the school's tackling dummy."
…
"I think it's going pretty good," Santana says as she walks to her car with Quinn and Brittany after Cheerios practice.
"Well Mr. Schue certainly looks miserable this week," Quinn replies. "I guess that's what we're going for."
"I think it's going great," Brittany adds.
"What now, Q?" Santana asks. "Normally you don't worry about the feelings of the little people."
"You make me sound rather cruel," Quinn tells her.
"You can be sometimes, Q," Brittany says. "But San and I don't mind. We are too."
"She's right, Fabray," Santana adds. "Maybe you should stop fighting things so much and just accept them."
Quinn stares at Santana for a moment. "You're one to talk."
"At least I'm trying."
"I am too," Quinn insists. "I'm sorry I'm not doing it on your timeline."
"Guys," Brittany says.
"Sorry, Britt," they chorus.
…
By the time Thursday rolls around, Will can say without a doubt that he understands what his glee kids were insinuating the week before. Having the threat of a slushie hanging over him is horrible. At least they could kind of see it coming. He has been constantly blindsided. He's finding it very disorientating.
…
Finn is miserable. The whole time he'd spent being slushied when he thought he'd gotten Quinn pregnant wasn't as bad as his week has been. Because before he'd been mostly ignored. These past few days he's been pushed, shoved, punched, kicked and had things thrown at him. The jocks have been relentless, doing something to him almost every time they pass him in the hall or while sitting in class. He has to sit in the back corner of the room so he doesn't have anyone behind him. The classes with assigned seating are the worse.
He knows this is all Puck's doing. He just wishes he could figure out a way to stop it. Because if the other guys really think he squealed, this isn't stopping anytime soon and he's not sure how much more he can take.
…
Lunchtime finds Rachel sitting on the edge of the auditorium stage with Marisa Lawson. When the freshman had approached her earlier in the day, Rachel could only hear the echo of Santana's words in her mind. Still, she agreed to meet for lunch.
Rachel is carefully eating her carrots as Marisa eats a sandwich and swings her legs against the side of the stage. They're not really talking and for once, Rachel's okay with that. She doesn't know what to think about Marisa constantly seeking her out lately. She has no problems with it; she simply wonders what started the need.
"How do you know if this is what you're meant to do?" Marisa asks eventually, gesturing to their surroundings.
"How do I specifically?" Rachel asks. "Or people in general?"
"Both, I guess."
"I've just always known," Rachel answers. "There's never been another option. I've never wanted to do anything else. Thankfully, I have the immense talent to pull it off. I'm not sure what I'd do if I couldn't."
"Oh."
"As for other people?" Rachel continues. "I'm not sure. I assume it has to get inside you. You have to want it. Want it more than you want anything because want alone isn't enough to make it happen. That intense want has to drive you to anything and everything it takes to make it happen."
"Yeah, that makes sense."
"Why do you ask?"
"Some days I just wonder if I'm good enough," Marisa explains.
"You can't let this place get you down," Rachel tells her. "I know it's tough. Trust me, I know. But you're better than this place. And you'll get out of here and be something amazing."
"You think so?"
Marisa's voice is so full of hope, it actually gives Rachel pause.
"It's only my opinion, Marisa," she says finally. "But I think good things are in your future."
"Thanks, Rach."
…
Will stops by his office before glee. He's been on edge the entire day, but he hasn't been slushied yet and since the school day is over, he feels confident the threat is over; at least for today.
Digging around on his desk, Will searches for the music he needs for this afternoon. He tries to hurry because he doesn't need to experience another Rachel Berry lecture about promptness.
He then remembers he hastily stuck it in the bottom drawer when a student had come in during lunch to ask for help.
Opening his bottom drawer turns out to be a mistake. Instead of sheet music, he gets a slushie facial. Sputtering through the pain, because he didn't have a chance to close his eyes, Will tries to stay calm. Getting angry at this point is useless; his goal now should be to clean up.
Will stands and grabs his change of clothing from the other bottom drawer before heading to the bathroom. He's definitely going to be late. Hopefully Rachel will be too distracted to notice.
…
Quinn is on her way to the choir room for glee practice when she runs into Rachel.
"Oh, hello Quinn," Rachel says, never breaking her stride. "Are you ready for glee?"
"I suppose so," Quinn replies, falling into step next to Rachel.
"You sound tired. Is Coach Sylvester running you ragged this week?"
"Something like that."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Rachel replies. "But I suppose it's worth it if you win again?"
"It usually is at the time," Quinn tells her. "Some days it's difficult to remember that, though."
"Well, hopefully, glee will be a nice distraction."
"Hopefully."
…
Glee is particularly dreary Thursday afternoon. Mr. Schue's focus seems to be elsewhere and it's affecting how the kids perform. It doesn't help that Finn is avoiding Puck, Mike, Santana and Rachel while looking like a kicked puppy. Kurt and Mercedes are too busy trying to analyze everyone to pay the proper attention. Santana seems to enjoy smirking at Mr. Schue while Quinn is actively avoiding him. For reasons Rachel can't fathom, Brittany can't seem to stop touching her, which is, of course, throwing off the choreography.
Finally Rachel can't take it anymore. "Mr. Schue," she interrupts. "Perhaps we could take a five minute break while everyone tries to regain the focus they never had so we can have a proper practice."
"That sounds like a good idea, Rachel," Will agree. "Five minutes, guys."
Finn immediately skulks into the corner while Puck stands nearby, glaring at him. Brittany pulls Rachel into the nearest chair and plops down next to her. She tugs Quinn down on the other side of her and just grins madly when Santana joins Rachel on her chair, each sitting on half.
The air in the room is anything, but gleeful. Rachel has a feeling this might be another useless practice. She wonders if their drama is going to stop them from winning anything because of their lack of focus. It's difficult to care though when Santana is teasingly running her hands up and down her back, going as far to slip under her shirt.
Distractedly, Rachel watches the seconds tick by. When the break is finished, she jumps up and tries to use her exuberance to compel the others to throw themselves into the song.
…
Rachel is gathering her things together after glee when she notices Mike is still seated in the second row.
"Mike, practice is over," she calls out.
Mike smiles. "I know. Just don't feel like leaving quite yet."
Rachel smiles back. "You might be the only one. Everyone else is extremely eager to leave this place."
"Yeah, I don't think everyone's having a good week."
"Some better than others I'm sure," Rachel replies. "But isn't that always true?"
Mike nods. "It is." He stands. "Can I walk you out?"
"Sure."
He's next to her, offering his arm with she accepts with a giggle. They stroll out of the room and into the hallway.
"You need a ride home?" he asks.
"No, Santana's coming over," Rachel answers. "She's probably waiting at her car."
When they reach the parking lot, they can see that Santana is indeed waiting for Rachel. The Cheerio is leaning against the hood of her car, arms and legs crossed, a lazy grin on her face. Of course it slowly disappears when she sees Rachel arm in arm with Mike.
Rachel knows Mike sees this and knows what it means, but his steps don't falter as he walks her to the car. They unloop arms and Mike kisses the back of her hand just to tweak Santana a bit.
"M'lady," Mike says as he lets go of Rachel's hand. "Have a nice evening ladies. I'm sure I'll see you both tomorrow." He half bows, not wanting to turn his back on Santana yet, as he walks away. Spinning on his heel, he begins to whistle tunelessly as he walks to his car, a few spots over.
Getting into his car, he knows he should feel bad about baiting Santana, but his intentions were innocent. Besides, he'd have to be suicidal to go after Rachel. Hopefully she knows that. Well, if she doesn't, Mike is sure Rachel will mention it.
…
Will is glad it's Friday for more than one reason. The biggest being after today he won't have to worry about being slushied for two whole days.
He'd feel better if he knew when or how it was going to happen. The sneak attacks are the worst of it in his mind.
Nor can he figure out how Sue is pulling it off. Not only setting things up, but the timing. How does she know where he's going to be at a certain time. Is he that predictable?
Maybe he should shake up his routine a bit. Take a different hallway when given the chance and that sort of thing. Maybe that will help cut down on the attacks.
…
"So you're really not going to tell me?" Rachel asks Santana as they readjust their clothing.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Santana replies.
"Santana."
Seeing they're as put back together as they're going to get, Santana slowly opens the door of the second floor janitor's closet and sticks her head out. Because it's lunch, the hallway is empty and so she slips out, followed by Rachel.
"Why can't I just have a thing?" Santana asks, entwining their fingers as they walk towards the stairs. "I mean, you don't tell me everything you're doing."
Rachel sighs. "You're right. Of course. I am being rather intrusive. I apologize. I'm just worried. However, try to see from my point of view. You've got some big badass project you're working on that you won't tell me about. Normally you can't wait to brag about it. How am I supposed to interpret this?"
"You just assume it's some big badass project," Santana points out. "Maybe I've taken up knitting and I'm embarrassed."
"I'm not sure you have the patience for knitting, tiger."
"Well, no, I don't. But you get my point."
"I suppose I do."
"Okay then?"
"Just promise me you're being careful," Rachel says. "I worry."
"I won't get caught, babe. I promise."
…
Just as she leaves Rachel at her locker, Santana turns to find Becky standing in front of her.
"Coach Sylvester would like to see you," she says.
Santana nods and follow Becky down the hall to Coach's office. She sits and waits for Coach to speak.
"I'm thinking of making you Cheerios captain," Coach says finally.
Santana's jaw drops. "Say what?"
"You're torturing my nemesis," Coach answers. "In a way that hadn't even occurred to me. It's outstanding."
"Q and Britt are helping to," Santana mentions.
"Still, I have no doubt that it was your idea."
"Of course it was my idea," Santana replies. "He doesn't get to be so fucking nonchalant about Rachel getting slushied. Not after all I did to make sure it stopped."
Coach Sylvester grins. "Because unlike William, you protect your people."
"Damn straight. You're really not going to make me captain, are you?"
"You don't want it?"
"Not anymore," Santana says. "I've got what I need."
"Jesus, I'd worry that Berry has ruined you if I didn't know she wasn't setting you up for larger things."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You'll figure it out," Coach Sylvester smirks. "Dismissed."
…
Lunch is nearly over and Will hasn't been slushied. He knows there's still plenty of time in the day, but the longer he goes without being hit, the better he feels. The end of the week and a small break from it all is getting closer and closer.
He finishes up his food and corrects the last of the quizzes he needed to get through. As he's cleaning up his desk, the bell rings and he stands. He grabs his things and exits his office.
Except the minute he steps through the door, a slushie falls onto him. Grape. Again.
He wipes his eyes clear and spins on his heel. He digs out his spare set of clothes and still holding his teaching materials, heads for the bathroom. If he's lucky, he can clean up quickly and only be a minute or two late for class.
…
"Mr. Schue, you got a minute?"
The final bell rang about ten minutes ago, so Will is surprised to look up and find Finn standing awkwardly in his office doorway.
"Of course, Finn, come on in. Have a seat."
Finn sits and just looks at Will.
"What can I help you with, Finn?" Will asks finally.
"Um, well, the thing is, I need some advice, I guess."
"Okay."
"Let's say I'm getting, uh, bugged about something that I didn't do. And I don't know how to stop it."
"What do you mean, bugged?"
"You know, people messing with me or whatever."
"Have you tried talking to them?"
"Talking wouldn't work," Finn answers. "Trust me, Mr. Schue, talking definitely wouldn't help."
"Have you tried standing up to them?"
"That wouldn't work either, Mr. Schue."
"Why not?" Will asks.
"It just wouldn't."
"Well, then, besides someone stepping in on your behalf, I'm not sure what else to say."
"Yeah, I kinda figured."
"Finn," Will says. "I want to help. Maybe if you just tried standing up to them. I know you'll be out numbered, but it might make them reconsider if they know you're going to fight back. Or maybe you could ask one of the guys, like Puck to help you out."
"Puck?" Finn almost chokes on the name. "I don't think Puck would help me out right now."
"Why not?"
"He's kinda pissed at me right now."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Well, if you want me to talk to Figgins, I can," Will offers. "Maybe he ca-"
"No way, Mr. Schue. Thanks but no thanks. That'll just get me tossed in a dumpster."
"Seriously?" Will asks. "That's not right."
"Course not, Mr. Schue," Finn replies. "Maybe I just need to wait it out a bit. Hopefully they'll find a new target soon."
"If you're sure," Will tells him.
"Yeah, I'm sure." Finn stands. "Thanks for listening, Mr. Schue."
"Course Finn. Anytime."
…
"Why do you think Rachel isn't coming to dinner Sunday night?" Santana asks.
She's lounging on her bed, beer in hand. Quinn is stretched out next to her holding a bottle of water while Brittany's on the floor because she feels the need to shift every few seconds and kept causing beer and water to be spilled on the bed.
"I still can't believe how cool your parents are with everything," Quinn comments.
"After Puck, Rachel is like a dream come true," Brittany pipes up.
"Well, that's certainly true," Quinn says.
"Well?" Santana says. "I asked a question."
"She's your girlfriend, Lopez."
"Maybe she actually has something else going on," Brittany replies. "Maybe her lesson really did get rescheduled. You know how busy Rach is. Sunday would be one of the few days she could do a make up."
"True," Santana allows.
"Why so paranoid, Lopez?"
"I'm not paranoid, Fabray," Santana snaps. "I'm curious."
"Uh huh, whatever you say."
…
Rachel's glad she was able to turn down Sunday dinner with the Lopez's this week. It's not that she doesn't enjoy it, because she does. It's been a while since she's sat down to a family dinner. Her fathers aren't around enough for it.
She just wants to give Santana a little space. She knows she pushes Santana a lot. Though this family dinner thing was more Mrs. Lopez, Rachel would rather not tempt fate. She doesn't want to crowd Santana. She tries not to, but every once in while, she forgets.
Staring at her phone, Rachel has an urge to call Santana. For some reason, she wonders if her girlfriend is thinking about her. Sometimes if she is, she'll send a text.
However, tonight Rachel has no idea. Because she's supposed to be at her lesson, she turned off her phone like she would if she really was at a lesson.
She knows she's playing a bit of a dangerous game. If Santana finds out she lied, she might not believe that Rachel just wanted to give her space. Hopefully she won't assume infidelity. Rachel really believes they're past believing that.
Well, she hopes anyway.
…
Monday morning, Will strolls cautiously into his office. He doesn't bother doing his usual checks. They don't seem to do any good. Whoever is doing this, seems to be at least three steps ahead of him.
It has to be Sue. Who else could it be? The dedication alone reminds him of no one else. Well, except Rachel, but he knows she would never-would she?
Will shakes his head to himself. He feels fairly confident that it isn't Rachel. She isn't the type. Santana, maybe, but he's not sure she has that kind of focus if it doesn't involve defiling her sexual partner.
When the warning bell for first period rings, Will lets out a sigh of relief. At least for now, it seems he's slushie free.
…
Rachel is leaving second period when she sees Finn in the halls. She's about to wave at him when he notices her. His eyes go comically wide and he abruptly changes direction. He almost takes out a couple of Cheerios as he does so.
Rachel doesn't know what to think about his reaction. She stands in the hallway for a moment watching Finn scurry away. She'll have to ask Noah later what that was all about.
…
Gathering his things at the end of the day, Will is apprehensive. The fact that he's made it this far into the day without being hit doesn't bode well in his mind. He wonders if he's going to be exiting the school. If so, maybe he'll be able to figure out who's behind these attacks.
He walks slowly through the deserted halls, listening. Nothing sounds out of the ordinary. However he's been deceived before.
When he reaches the main door, he pauses trying to see any evidence of an attack. He can't see anything, but he's learned that doesn't seem to matter.
Only when he's pulling out of the parking lot, does Will let out a sigh of relief. Maybe whomever it is got bored and gave up. He smiles. Maybe tomorrow will be an all right day.
…
Puck has barely seen Finn this week. Too bad; he's curious how Hudson's handling being a punching bag this week. Maybe now he'll understand why what he did to Rachel is so horrible.
Though knowing Finn, probably not.
He knows he should feel guilty, but he just can't. He's sick of his attitude. He understands the guy was hurt when Rachel broke up with him, but it was all his doing. Puck wonders if he's realized that yet.
Puck wonders when Rachel became his best friend and Finn became just a douchebag he has to occasionally deal with.
…
Tuesday morning, Will drives to McKinley believing that his days of being slushied are over. It was most likely just a week thing to teach him a lesson, he muses. It makes sense. Or if it was Sue, it was just a distraction. It's not the first time she's messed with him for a week and then moved on. It probably won't be the last either.
Still, Will can't help but feel a little jubilant about his day. He walks across the parking lot humming under his breath.
Just as he's reaching for the door handle, a waterfall of grape slushie falls on him. He quickly wipes his eyes and looks around. Except for the icy cold drink covering him and the concrete, there's no proof anything happened.
Cursing to himself, he heads inside, going immediately to the bathroom to change.
…
"You ever feel like we're missing something?" Mercedes asks Kurt as he digs through his locker.
"Such as?"
"I don't know," she replies. "It just feels like there's something big going on and we're missing some details."
"We could investigate."
"I wouldn't even know where to start," Mercedes replies.
"Well your feeling must be coming from somewhere," Kurt points out.
"Yeah, maybe."
"We'll just keep our eyes and ears even more open. We just need to finely tune our senses."
…
Wanting to work on a song over lunch, Rachel heads to the choir room. However once she arrives, she finds that it isn't empty.
"Oh, hi, Mike."
"Hey Rachel."
"Sorry, I didn't think anyone else would be here," Rachel says.
"It's fine," Mike replies. "Just didn't feel like eating in the lunch room."
"I can leave if you want to be alone."
"Why are you here?" Mike asks.
"I wanted to practice a song," Rachel answers.
"Oh. Okay. Go ahead."
"Are you sure? I mean, if you didn't want company…"
"It's fine. You practice. I'll eat. And I'll get some nice lunch music. Right?"
"If you're sure," Rachel says.
Mike nods.
Rachel smiles and sits at the piano.
…
Tired of the treatment he gets during lunch, Finn hides in the bathroom. The second floor boys bathroom has very light traffic during lunch, she he hides in one of the two stalls and eats his lunch.
The smell is kinda hard to take. It's slowly killing his appetite. Still, he keeps eating because he doesn't know what else to do.
Some days he wishes he was smarter. He really wishes he could come up with a way to end all the harassment. But every idea he comes up with does no good. And now he's given them more ammo to laugh at.
Finishing his sandwich, he's no longer hungry. He looks at the rest of his lunch, but just drops them on the floor. Feeling pitiful, he leans his head against the stall wall and waits for lunch to end.
…
After glee, Tuesday, Rachel literally grabs Will before he exits the choir room.
"I don't think it's Coach Sylvester, Mr. Schue," Rachel tells him
"Why is that, Rachel?"
"Because she said it wasn't her."
"That's hardly a compelling reason," Will says.
"Mr. Schue," Rachel begins. "It's no secret that Coach Sylvester hates me less than she used to."
"True."
"I feel confident that it's not her. Because if it was, she would most likely relish in telling me about it," Rachel explains. "She knows there's nothing I can do if she is."
"That's an interesting theory-"
"I think it's the prankster."
"What? How would-Why?"
Rachel half shrugs wishing she would think before she speaks. "I just do. It's the only thing that makes sense besides Coach Sylvester."
"I suppose that's true," Will mulls. "If it's not Sue, then he's the only other person who could pull it off."
Rachel fights back a bristle at the word, 'he'. She knows very few people think the prankster is female. She also wonders why she's blaming the prankster when she know full well it isn't her.
"Though I'm not sure if that's comforting or not," Will continues. "I mean, he's gone on for so long without being caught. What are the odds he'll stop with me anytime soon?"
"I guess it depends on the reason why he started."
"Yeah." Will sighs. "Well, thanks for the insight, Rachel."
"You're welcome, Mr. Schue. Break a leg."
…
"What's up with you?" Santana asks Rachel.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Rachel counters.
"You're been weirdly quiet for far too long."
Rachel supposes that's true. They've been studying for almost an hour and she's barely said a word. It probably didn't help that she was so quiet on the drive over.
"I just don't feel like talking," Rachel replies.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You're sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Why?"
"It's just you haven't been around too much lately," Santana pouts.
"Awww, I'm sorry, San," Rachel replies. "You've been busy too, you know."
"Yeah, well how come every time I see you lately, you're with Chang?"
"You mean that one time last week when we walked out of glee together?"
"What about today during lunch?" Santana asks. "You were both in the choir room."
"So?"
"What am I supposed to think?"
"Nothing," Rachel replies. "I was practicing a song and he just wanted to be alone. So we were both in the room being alone together."
"That makes no sense."
"It's Mike," Rachel says. "He and I are friends. And we really only see each other at school."
"Yeah, okay," Santana says. "Just seems like the guy's around lately."
"Perhaps it's the slushie thing," Rachel replies. "People have been acting weird since I was slushied."
"Maybe."
…
Wednesday, Will doesn't know what to think anymore. He enters the school cautiously. Nothing happens. He enters his office warily. Still nothing happens. He checks his surrounds as best as he can before sitting at his desk. He begins planning his day, absently drinking his coffee.
About fifteen minutes later he hears a small twang like a spring has been released before the sound can completely register, he's covered in grape slushie.
Looking around he sees a small catapult. It has an enormous bucket attached to it that is still dripping grape flavor.
Growling to himself, Will finds his extra clothing and goes to the bathroom to change.
When he enters he's hit in the face with another slushie. Thankfully, it doesn't hit his spare set of clothes. Still, it's shocking. The double dose of cold stickiness is extremely unpleasant and he fights the urge to scream.
Instead, he wipes his face clean as best he can and goes into a stall to change.
…
Watching a irritated, ice covered Schuester stalk to the bathroom, Sue can only smile. If she gets to start out a majority of her days watching William Schuester be humiliated and annoyed, it's a good day.
She has to hand it to Lopez. Sue can't believe it never occurred to her to Sluhie William. Watching his apprehensive anticipation is delicious.
While she understand why Lopez turned down her offer of captain, Sue almost wishes she had accepted. She didn't expect her to, so at least she's not disappointed.
And really, to take it from Fabray might be considered harsh. After all the girl did work her way back up to the top. She earned her captaincy back so easily because her transformation was so quick. It seemed to Sue that one minute the blonde was onstage at Regionals, big as a house and then it was a new year and standing in front of her was pre baby Fabray, in shape and ready to be on top again.
Sue can admire that kind of dedication, especially when it benefits her. So she's glad to let Q keep her spot. But S needed to have her approval of her extracurricular activities. Perhaps with that encouragement, she'll keep it up.
…
Santana is having too much fun slushing Mr. Schue. She can see how frustrated he is by it. The variations in time and location are driving him crazy. Which, of course was her goal. She figures the long she does this, the less he'll be able to write off being slushied. Maybe he'll even eventually feel bad for not protecting people better.
But she doubts it.
She's going to keep it up. She probably won't continue doing it daily, but at least once or twice a week to keep him on his toes. The waiting and the not knowing is probably the worse part.
Santana's going to enjoy every moment of it.