Doing It Right: Volume 2: Chapter 26
by Creedog VanDrey
Category: Glee
Genre: Romance/Drama
Rating: M
Language: English
Summary: Santana was given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, and she succeeded, but now she's haunted by dreams that drive her to continue righting wrongs. Prom night arrives and with it comes more up's and down's than Santana can handle.
Spoilers: 2x20 "Prom Queen"
A/N: Okay, so this one took longer than I wanted it to, but I spent the entire weekend in isolation to get the last chapters in shape for editing, so I'll still meet my deadline. I hope.
Chapter 26: The Big Night, Part 2: I Can't Stop Loving You
(As For Everybody Else…)
So here's what you missed on Glee. Quinn and Santana are competing to be prom queen, with Sam and Brittany as their respective running mates. Oh, yeah, and Lauren's running with Karofsky. At first Santana was able to get Principal, um, make that Assistant Principal Figgins to agree to let them run together, but then when Santana sang Brittany a totally sweet prom proposal serenade, bad things happened. First, Brittany got really pissed and thought Santana was just showing off and turning into, you know, "a giant pussy." And then that old hag Mrs. Hagberg complained about Santana disrupting class, so Figgins had to reverse his decision. Raj forgave Mercedes for two-timing him and asked her to prom with a serenade, too. Aw. Kurt asked Blaine to prom, but Blaine was scared of the bullying, so he said no. Uh-oh. And, finally, Artie asked Genevieve to go to prom, but she shot him down. That boy just can't catch a break! And that's what you missed on… Glee!
: : :
The Hummel house was chosen to be the designated meeting place for all the couples in glee, due to its size. Santana and Brittany arrived fashionably late in Santana's car. As they strolled through the Hummels' immaculate lawn, their dresses in garment bag, Santana apologized to her girlfriend. "I'm really sorry that I messed up our prom queen race."
The blonde moved closer so they could walk shoulder-to-shoulder. "That was your thing, Santana. I wanted you to see that people liked you. And, hey, maybe you'll still win… even if it's not with me."
"Nah. That takes all the fun out of it. I stopped campaigning anyway."
"I noticed," Brittany remarked morosely.
"I'm letting Quinn take this," Santana persisted, "I have a feeling that she might go a little bonkers if she doesn't." In the smacking Rachel Berry kind of way, which honestly I should approve of. I guess I do, but at the same time I feel bad about it. Damn, stupid conscience.
Ten feet from the door, Santana received a text. Brittany inquired about it, but received only a cryptic reply: "It's from Puck. We've been scheming. It's a surprise, though." Brittany unsurprisingly became giddily anxious.
When they reached the Hummels' front door, they found a short, tuxedoed boy standing statue-still on the porch. Santana questioned sharply, "Blim, they teaching telepathy at your fancy-pants school or are you planning on knocking on that door anytime soon? Some of us gotta prettify ourselves."
Blaine looked like he was trying to compose a reply, but instead he just rang the doorbell.
Santana continued to harangue him. "So, I hope you're planning on throwing yourself on your sword. Gelfling was so broken up about your refusal, the entire club had to band around him to raise his spirits. Myself in particular brought literal spirits… of the bottled kind, you know. In the end, we finally had to agree to a big group dinner with him."
Before Blaine could comment, the door was briskly opened by Carole Hummel, who hurriedly invited them in. She didn't pause at the door and seemed to get back to the nervous bustling around she was engaged in. Out of the corner of her eye, Santana caught a glimpse of a crowd of mothers—hers and Brittany's included—sitting around the kitchen table, drinking coffee and tea.
As Carole looked at Brittany and Santana, she paused. "So… I don't know how this works."
"What do you mean?" Brittany asked curiously.
"Well, I've been directing all the girls upstairs to put on their dresses and makeup, and the boys downstairs into the basement to get their tuxes on and style their hair."
Santana figured it her discomfort. "We've both got dresses. Were you wondering if one of us was the boy?"
Carole explained, "Kurt has been very clear that that is not necessarily how it works. Then again, the reason the girls are going upstairs is because he's upstairs, so I just wanted to… check."
Kurt leapt down the stairs two at a time and saved his stepmother any more embarrassment. "Carole, we've set up two different rooms because we have so many ladies coming. Brittany, you'll be with Tina, Mercedes, and myself in my room. Santana, if you'll please join Rachel and Quinn in the guest room."
Stepmother and stepson seemed to notice Blaine hiding in the doorway. With a quick, "I'll handle this" to Carole, Kurt moved to Blaine. Brittany held back to eavesdrop, but Santana pulled her up the stairs.
"What are you doing here?" Kurt finally asked once he and his boyfriend were alone.
"If the invitation still stands, I'd be delighted to have the honor of taking you to this shindig."
Kurt remained poised. "You're kind of last-minute. How do you know I didn't give away your ticket already?"
Blaine astutely replied, "Well, one, you framed it in the form of a question, instead of just saying you gave the ticket away so you could cause the most harm. Two, all your female friends are in relationships—assuming I've successfully been keeping up with the New Directions Soap Opera—so I know you didn't ask a girl to go as your date. And I know you don't know any boys willing to go with you." Kurt couldn't hold back a smile at his logic. Blaine added, "And, for your information, I wasn't being last minute. The night after I said no, I woke up at 3 AM in a cold sweat and immediately changed my mind." He whined, "You've been ignoring my calls, Hun."
Kurt pulled out his phone, finding a long sequence of messages from his boyfriend, begging for forgiveness, accepting his proposal, and asking questions about the dance.
Blaine wasn't finished. "Since I couldn't get any answers from you, I brought nine different colors of ties and boutonnieres. I even had Jeff help me specially select them for complete color coordination coverage. You should have seen him work. I swear there were two of them he was working so fast"
"Black tie, pink carnation," Kurt offered as way of an olive branch.
"Lucky me." Blaine pulled the requisite items out of a fabric bag.
"And you're not afraid of the bullies?"
"I figure you're worth the risk. Plus, I kind of talked to Finn the other day. He and the other football guys promised to keep an eye out for us, just in case. You'd be surprised what you can accomplish by helping them upgrade their dinner plans."
"You mean our dinner plans? Finn and Rachel are part of the group dinner," Kurt explained.
"That's right."
Kurt remained dubious. "So, you somehow managed to upgrade a table-for-eleven reservation to a fancier table-for-twelve last minute? How'd you manage that? Witchcraft?"
"Can't give all the surprises away at first. So, where do I powder my nose?"
"Guys are getting their tuxes on downstairs. I'll see you in sixty-five minutes."
"It won't take me that long." Kurt just looked at him. "But it will take you that long."
Brittany often got lost in her own house, so Santana deposited her girlfriend with a squealing Tina and Mercedes and made her way to the guest room. As she opened the door, she rediscovered something about this timeline that she still hadn't gotten used to: Rachel and Quinn, sitting closely together as they helped each other with their makeup. Not wanting to get into the middle of it, she quickly undressed—Quinn made the obvious joke about her supernatural ability to disrobe—and redressed in the time it took for Quinn and Rachel to choose the right shade of blush for Rachel's complexion.
"And to think, this is Kurt's emergency reserve makeup set," Quinn noted.
"I can't believe I'm the last one to get the spa treatment from Kurt," Rachel complained indignantly.
Without asking, Santana reached over Rachel's shoulder and plucked up the requisite items for her own face. "It's not like either of you will be needed my colors."
The two of them just rolled their eyes and went back to chatting about their dates. Santana was thankful when Blaine's head popped into the room.
"You're lucky we weren't naked!" Rachel screamed.
"I am lucky," he teased back, "I don't need that image burned in my mind on prom night." He turned to Santana and explained that her presence was being requested in the living room. She assumed that the guys had gotten into some kind of mess and need their captain of the League of Badassery. However, once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she noticed that the boys were simply shooting the breeze while watching a baseball game, meaning she'd been elected the "boy" of her couple and had been invited to "guy time". She was about to give the boys a piece of her mind, except for the fact that the Indians were getting their asses handed to them by the White Sox and obviously needed a fiery Latina screaming obscenities at the screen. She caught Burt Hummel giving her an odd look.
"Can I help you, Mr. H?"
"Don't tell Kurt I said this, but if he ever were to marry a beard, I think I wouldn't mind having you as a daughter-in-law."
Santana didn't get a chance to answer him because Carmona decided to walk another batter, forcing a thunderstorm of screaming at the television.
Ten minutes later, Kurt poked his head in and announced that the girls were going to be descending the stairs She's All That-style. Santana raced into the downstairs bathroom to double-check her hair and makeup, because she was not going to wait at the bottom of the stairs with the rest of the testosterone monkeys. She took the rear stairway back up to the second floor, hoping to catch Brittany before her turn. She barely made it, as she found the girl looking over the banister like Cinderella without a Prince Charming.
Santana's super-suave plan was to say something like: "Hey, Gorgeous, you look like you need a bit of company tonight." But this was before Santana got an eyeful of Brittany in her chartreuse gown with its form-fitting bodice, her golden hair in perfect ringlets, pulled away from her hair by a tiny top hat on her headband. So, instead all Santana could get to come out was "Hi."
Brittany looked up and raced to the other side of the hallway, catching Santana by surprise with a kiss. A few hundred flashes went off, and Santana was afraid to look down to catch whatever expression her mother in particular was sporting. So, instead, she extended her arm—Fine, so maybe I'm a teensy bit of the boy—and escorted Brittany down the stairs, where they could pose for pictures in front of the mantel.
When finally forced to lock eyes with her mother, she noticed the woman didn't seem particularly overjoyed, but she was rather content. Rosa Lopez finally cracked a smile when Brittany caught Santana with a surprise kiss behind the ear. And when Margo Pierce laced her arm and whispered something to the woman's ear, the latter nodded in agreement.
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen," Carole finally called out, "I need all six couples lined up by the fireplace." Something about this comment made Santana feel warm inside.
The picture took forever to set up. Rachel, in a floor-length white gown and elbow-length gloves and her hair done in an elaborate up-do, wouldn't stop adjusting Finn's old-fashioned tux, complete with coattails, a white bowtie, and a top hat. Mike and Tina, matched in black and were attached at the hip, meanwhile refused to pose in any sort of dignified (or virtuous) manner. Sam and Quinn, on the other hand, were almost militaristic in their perfectionist posing, an obvious result of the two Fabray women thinking in sync about how to set up all the right angles. Mercedes was nervously introducing Raj to her parents. Raj seemed confident, perhaps too confident given the unimpressed look on Dr. Jones's face. And finally Blaine jaw kept dropping ever time he eyed Kurt's kilt.
: : :
When the limo carrying the six pairs of teens rolled up to Breadstix, Santana couldn't be happier. As she walked to the door, she pulled out a bib from her clutch. A few patrons visiting the restaurant stopped to watch in marvel as the twelve teens emerged from the single limo, "like clowns from the hippie car at the circus," as Brittany described it.
Kurt seemed unimpressed by the choice of venue. "I thought you were upgrading," he told Blaine, "This was the venue all along. We just barely made the cut for a table of eleven. I guess it was some feat increasing the count to twelve."
"Have you so little faith in me?" his date replied, hurt.
Kurt was suitably more impressed when they were directed to the private room.
"The private room was booked," he explained to Blaine, whose expression told that the comments were unnecessary. "It was booked three months in advance. By the Golden Years Society."
"Well, those lovely guests will be dining at the Brunsman Room at Dalton Academy this evening."
Kurt literally pinched himself as he walked into the dining room. Lush, heavy, sparkly white curtails hung along the walls. The normal rectangular table had been replaced with a circular table draped with a snow-white tablecloth. Twelve individualized place markers sat around the table; Rachel in particular was beside herself because of her star-shaped plastic stand. Fine china was perfectly set at each place and crystal glasses.
"Finn's goblet is plastic. Don't tell him," Blaine whispered.
"So, at what point does a string quartet pop up?" Kurt wondered.
"I think you'll like what I've got in store." A line of teenage boys in blue blazers circled the room. Blaine counted his club off and then seated his date, leaving Wes to sing lead.
So you leavin' in
the mornin'
on the early train.
Well I could say
Everything's all right
And I could pretend
And say goodbye
Got your ticket
Got your suitcase
Got your leaving smile
Oh I could say that's the way it goes
And I could pretend you won't know
That I was lying...
Cuz I can't stop loving you
No, I can't stop loving you
No, I won't stop loving you
Why should I?
Brittany couldn't stop watching Santana all night. She'd never seen the girl smile so much, at least in public. The brunette chatted with Kurt, who was on her other side. Her teasing of Rachel was significantly less vicious than usual. She was trading barbs with Quinn about which one of them was going to win prom queen. She only called Mercedes "Wheezy" once and it was done so in an affectionate tone. Yes, she rolled her eyes back constantly, but she also followed up each groan with a chuckle.
Every moment that their hands weren't occupied, she laced her fingers with Santana's. Perhaps it would be a good night.
: : :
The limo then took the twelvesome to McKinley High. It took Santana a moment to realize what was going on when Finn, Rachel, Sam, and Quinn speed-walked forward, but it became fairly obvious that the heterosexual couples had formed a box around her, Brittany, Kurt, and Blaine.
When they entered the gym, the first thing everyone noticed was Puck leaving a girl and scanning the room for another one. When his eyes fell on the group, he ran over and complimented the females individually and the guys with a single "Looking good, bros." When asked about his dance partner, he couldn't remember the girl's name. "I'm just cruising around, stealing dates as I see fit. Catch and release. Like fishing."
"Or blacksmithing," Brittany remarked, "I approve." She held up her hand for a high-five, which Puck slapped. "So, Lopez, since when are you the girl in this relationship? That's new."
"I can't win."
The rest of the prom progressed as well as could be expected. Rachel dragged Finn on stage so she could serenade him with Alanis Morrissette's "Head Over Feet", which, luckily for the club, the rest of the school considered a slow song.
Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole
You're so much braver than I gave you credit for
That's not lip service
You've already won me over in spite of me
And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet
Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are
I couldn't help it
It's all your fault
Instead of chaperoning, Will and Holly danced, as did Emma and Carl. This left Beiste alone to deal with the inebriated hockey players trying to climb onto the basketball goals. Sue was perched near the punch bowl, eyeing every student who came within five feet of it. Plenty of thirsty-looking prom-goers simply avoided the beverage table all together.
Santana danced with Brittany. Tina danced with Mike. Mercedes danced with Raj. Puck managed to sandwich himself between a shapely Hispanic girl who was wearing the same dress as Santana and a petite brunette in a black pant suit. Quinn danced with Sam, but spent much of the time soliciting votes from passing couples, to Sam's chagrin. Brittany noticed Santana eyeing the industrious blonde. "Do you wish you were doing that?"
"Begging for scraps like a stray puppy? Nah. Would it have been awesome to win? Sure, but I wouldn't want to be up there without you. We're a package deal."
The package deal was soon dragged onto stage by Blaine to back him up on "I'm Not Going to Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You". He thought it was only appropriate.
The word's on the streets and it's on the news:
I'm not gonna teach him how to dance with you.
He's got two left feet and he bites my moves.
I'm not gonna teach him how to dance
(Dance, dance, dance, dance)
The second I do, I know we're gonna be through.
I'm not gonna teach him how to dance with you.
He don't suspect a thing. I wish he'd get a clue.
I'm not gonna teach him how to dance
(Dance, dance, dance, dance)
Midway through the song, Puck somehow scooped Tina out of Mike's arms and began grinding against her ass. She was unable to escape as his hands were firmly planted on her hips, and Mike had to pry them off and shove him away. He winked at Tina as he left, pulling Becky Jackson away from her date.
The junior girls of McKinley were given a reprieve from Puck (some gladly, some sadly) when it was time for him to sing "Friday" with Sam and Artie. Quinn cheered on her boyfriend, but seemed a little miffed at all the laughter accompanying the dancing. A whole mess of girls were cheering on Puck.
Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Partyin', partyin' (Yeah)
Fun, fun, fun, fun
Lookin' forward to the weekend
After the song, Puck was grabbed by Wynnie Clarke, and Sam by Quinn, who looped his arm into her and started making rounds. Artie rolled down the ramp, and just looked around the room, discouraged.
He picked Genevieve out of the crowd, dancing with her lanky redhead of a date, though seemingly oblivious to his presence. The feeling was apparently mutual, as they broke apart when he apparently spotted his best buddy and went over to chest-bump him. Genevieve, to her credit, simply shrugged it off and went to talk to talk to the Hispanic girl Puck was accosting earlier.
Artie was tapped on the shoulder. He was surprised to find Gino Clarke, a sophomore from the football team, standing before him with a tiny Filipina girl wearing a sundress that was two sizes too large. Gino immediately excused himself, saying he had to save his sister's innocence from Puck.
"I don't understand."
Sunshine explained, "Carmel freshmen don't get to go to their prom, much less the Vocal Adrenaline singers."
Before she could finish her explanation, Puck returned, with a black eye and sans a date. "Sorry, almost got into a fight with Gino and now I'm hiding from Sylvester." Sure enough, Sue had left her post at the punch bowl and was now prowling the dance floor, muttering to herself about how it shouldn't have been so hard to track down the only kid in school with a Mohawk. Puck eyed Sunshine with the same expression he'd been using all night. "I need the package arrived. The Legion of Badassery strikes again."
"I was 'liberated' from a twelve-hour Saturday practice," Sunshine continued, "I heard you didn't have a date."
"Well," Artie remarked, holding out his hand, "maybe I do now." Sunshine nodded and took his hand. Artie turned to Puck. "Not that I don't appreciate this, but why go through the trouble?"
"'Cause some of us don't get what we want," Puck explained, his eyes scanning the crowd. His eyes landed on where Quinn and Sam were having a heated discussion.
Sam screamed, "Quinn, can you lay off the campaigning for one second? They'll be announcing the winners any minute!"
"I don't know if the voting has closed and that's all the more reason to get those final swing votes. Now lower your voice. I don't want to lose because my date gets kicked out."
"You know, I don't give a frack about being prom king. I just wanted you to be happy. But this is insane. You've ignored me all night."
"Seeing that I had to pay for everything, I think the least you could do is play along until we win!"
Sam just stared at Quinn's face, now crumbling with guilt. "Sorry for being poor, Quinnie," he whispered, "I thought my love was enough. Guess not." And with that he walked out the door.
"Sam! Come back! I didn't mean that!" she screamed in shocked hysterics, "They're going to announce…" She trailed off as Principal Figgins invited all the candidates on stage. Torn between chasing after her date and walking to the stage, she chose the stage.
Quinn was the last one up, so she got to size up her competition. Most prominent was Lauren Zizes, dressed in her royal blue gown. Dave Karofsky stood opposite of her, looking untypically sharp in his black tuxedo with matching blue tie. She saw Brittany and Santana next to each other, their hips flush, laughing with each other with zero apparent interest in the race. Rebekah Cole, the current (as of last Tuesday) Head Cheerio, finished out the lineup.
Vice Princiapl Figgins was handed two envelopes by Daniel Creek, the student body president, who descended the stairs and took his place beside Faith Jennings.
Figgins pulled out the "Prom King" envelope first, but Santana cleared her throat, and seeing his burning gaze of all the female candidates (Brittany excluded, who was too distracted by Santana's neckline), wisely replaced it with the other envelope. "This year's prom queen is…"
For Quinn, the room went silent. Even though she was millisecond from discovering whether she'd won, she couldn't help but try to gauge the audience. Were they looking at her? Too many were obviously watching Figgins, which didn't help.
Santana was begging beyond hope that there would be two names on the card, but she could see a single line of script from here. She even recognized the shape of the name even if she couldn't make out the words.
Lauren realized that she'd probably get expelled if she put the vice principal in a headlock, if he didn't read her name.
Rebekah couldn't get "Friday" out of her head.
Brittany was fixated on Santana's ruffled strap, which is why she didn't hear the winner's name being called.
"…Brittany S. Pierce."
She felt Santana shaking her shoulder, though. "B, you won."
"What?" She looked up and saw Figgins, and the rest of the junior class, watching her. "I'm sorry," she tried to tell Santana.
Santana laid a quick kiss on her lips, grinning ear to ear. "No no no. Go up there! I'm ecstatic! My girlfriend's the queen of the school!"
After a quick shove from her girlfriend, Brittany made her way over to Figgins, taking the tiara and scepter she'd won.
Santana turned to Quinn. "Sorry, Q. Since we couldn't win together, we really were rooting for you. We even voted for you and Fish Lips."
Quinn seemed sullen. "I appreciate that. I'm happy for B, though, really." Her smile was forced though.
"Yeah, my girl's too awesome. Being third best isn't so bad, Fabray."
Quinn rolled her eyes. The smile on her face became still, though, and her breathing heavy.
Figgins was opening the next envelope. "And your 2011 Junior Prom King is…" This time, time didn't stop for any of the contestants. It stopped for the whole room as the vice principal studied the card. He cleared his throat. "Apparently, there has been a mixup. Give me one moment to speak with your student body council…"
Brittany tilted her head over and called out softly to her girlfriend. "Santana, it's got your name on it." Unfortunately, she was standing right in front of the microphone and her voice echoed through the room. "That's dumb. You're not a boy." Realization hit her and she frowned and growled at the school. "This isn't funny!" But there wasn't any laughter in the room, just silence.
Behind her, Santana rushed off. Brittany, only catching the sight out of the corner of her eye, paused to get her bearings before chasing after her, passing the stone-still Figgins, who skipped his talk to Daniel and rushed to Beiste to inquire about Will's whearabouts so that he could sing his number early, but neither he nor his co-director could be located.
In all the commotion, Quinn didn't see the figure behind her, yanking her behind the curtain. It was Sam, who wordlessly grabbed her hand and dropped a small item into it: a shiny, silver men's ring. "I think we need to take a break," is all he said.
At first, Quinn didn't react. She remained stoic. But eventually her perfectly poised face cracked. She pulled off her promise ring and threw it Sam. "I guess this night can't get any worse." She ran off.
Down below, Kurt and Blaine looked at each other. "Someone ought to do something," Kurt muttered aloud.
"Yeah… someone," Blaine repeated before racing on stage, passing Brittany on the steps. Despite the situation, they still waved at each other. He got in front of the mic and proclaimed, "You know, it's really awful the kind of things we do those who are different from us. You know what you all are? Scared little bullies who—"
He didn't get any further than that. Azimio and Strando came up behind him with the punch bowl in hand and dumped the liquid onto Blaine, drenching him.
"I smell like a lemon," he muttered finally, staring blankly into the audience, "If you'll excuse me…" He, too, raced off.
: : :
Brittany raced into the choir room, all the while trying to untangle her tiara from her headband. She found Santana pacing the room, mumbling to herself. "I should have seen this coming. Stupid dreams. I should've known. Why do I bother? I save Kurt and I get hurt."
At first, Brittany didn't say a word; she just wrapped her arms around her girlfriend and held her tightly. Within seconds, Santana was bawling so hard she was wheezing. "Let it out, Sweetie," the blonde whispered.
"Why does everyone hate me?" Santana asked.
"Does everyone hate me?" Quinn asked the mirror in the girl's bathroom.
"Why do people hate us?" Blaine asked Kurt as he threw open the gym door and stomped out.
"Honey…" Brittany cooed when Santana finally calmed down. When the brunette's eyes looked up at the tiara, the blonde added, "I tried to take it off, I did, but it's stuck in my headband."
"I don't care; you deserved it."
"You don't deserve this, though," Brittany remarked.
"You didn't deserve that," Puck told Quinn, as she finished wiping her dripping mascara from her face at the sink.
"This is the girls' bathroom," Quinn noted.
"So the hell what? Ladies sit down to do their business in private stalls. I can't see nothing. And it wouldn't be nothing I haven't seen before."
In one stall, a girl lifted her legs to pull her underwear out of view.
"Why are you here, Puck?" Quinn asked.
"You seemed sad."
"You shouldn't be here. You're gonna get in trouble, Puck, let's just go back into the hallway," Quinn suggested.
"I shouldn't be here," Blaine cried to Kurt, "I knew this was gonna be trouble. Let's just go." He continued to stride down a random hallway, too frazzled to get his bearings.
"Seriously, how are you so fast? My legs are longer," a pursuing Kurt mumbled, catching his boyfriend's arm. "Look, it's just a little punch. I've had much worse."
"I knew this was going to happen, Kurt! Again!"
Kurt grabbed Blaine's shoulders a pinned the shorter boy into the nearby lockers. "You look rather not-beat up to me. And, I must say, you did draw attention to yourself."
Blaine scowled. "Are you saying this is my fault? That I shouldn't have said anything?"
"No," Kurt pressed, "I'd be a hypocrite for saying so, seeing that I'm wearing a skirt. Your speech was amazing, Blaine, or at least it sounded like it was gonna be. Made me all warm and fuzzy for like the sixth time tonight. You're quite the charmer, you know."
Blaine had to chuckle at that. "You know all those 'It Gets Better' videos?" he brought up.
"Of course."
"I believe them. I really do. I just… why can't the world change faster?"
Kurt shrugged and took a seat beside Blaine. "I've found most people's minds don't just change. Dumb people just eventually… die. Consider yourself lucky. We're the first generation to see same-sex marriage."
"How can you be so positive?"
Kurt bumped his shoulder into Blaine's. "I learned it from my very wise boyfriend."
Blaine chuckled. "Tell me more about this guru of gayness."
"Oh, he's quite handsome, too, if you're into petits charmeurs." He laid a kiss on Blaine's cheek, but Blaine put his hand on Kurt's cheek so he couldn't move his head away, laying another kiss on his boyfriend's lips.
"You wanna get out of here?" Blaine asked.
"Out of Lima? That's happening the second I graduate. As for this prom, no. The last thing I want to do is run away. But if you'd rather…"
"No, let's show 'em what real courage is."
Kurt's eyebrows didn't move at the rallying cry. "That's kind of corny."
"Hey, you try being eloquent with fruit punch soaked in your boxers."
"Don't lose that wit, Anderson."
Quinn slammed her fist into the nearest locker. "I lose prom queen. I lose my boyfriend. I lose my promise ring. I lose the respect of my classmates…"
"So, is there a crown for drama queen…?" All that earned Puck was a glare. "Look, Quinn, c'mere." Puck pulled Quinn into a hug. "Sam's a jerk."
She shook her head. "No, he's not. I'm the jerk. I pushed him away and the worst part is I can't find up the energy to get him back."
"His loss. You're awesome, Quinn. Sometimes it takes a little effort to get to the top."
"Then why'd Brittany win?"
"'Cause the boys at this school wanted to watch Tana and Britts get their mack on?" Puck offered.
"Maybe they just wanted to watch us get our mack on?" Brittany suggested, "I don't think they really think you're a boy. Especially in that dress." Her hand grazed Santana's hip.
From atop the piano, Santana growled, "Brittany, any ballot that voted for two prom queens didn't get counted. That means a bunch of people had to write in my name under the prom king category. They were all laughing at me."
"Er, no, they weren't, Santana. And I had a good view, too." Seeing that Santana was not cheered up yet, she asked, "Is it that bad that you're king, though?"
"I think you're aware of my complete lack of a dick."
Brittany thought harder. "You like History; it's your favorite subject, right?"
"I'm not a big fan of classes in general, but, gun to my head, yeah, it's the least sucky."
Brittany cringed at the metaphor, but continued. "Besides Queen Elizabeth, who's been queen for like five hundred years, weren't the kings usually more powerful?"
"Yeah, because of patriarchy. Queens were just for making little princes."
"So, then, don't you want to be king, so you can be the most awesome person at McKinley?"
Santana was pensive for a second. She held out her arms. "Help me down. I think it's time to show McKinley who the King of McKinley is capable of."
: : :
When Santana walked on stage, Figgins ran up to her. "I'm so sorry, Miss Lopez. I can't find Daniel; his date ran off and he went to find her. What do you want me to do?"
Santana plucked the crown out of his hand, causing the attendees to gasp. Santana situated herself in front of the mic. "You're probably expecting me to put this on my head and give some glib saying about how awesome I am, but the truth is, my lovely date—By the way, isn't she so much hotter than whoever you came with?—reminded me how powerful kings are, so I think that my first royal decree will be to choose who I think deserves to be king. If you're a candidate…" Dave and several other males perked up. "…just don't bother unless you want me spreading the nasty details about your junk size or how bad you were in bed." She scanned the room. "Well, looky here. Blim Warbler, why don't you hop up on stage?" When Blaine joined her, she said, "You know, in all those fairy tales, the knight has to prove his worth. I think Blim here has."
"He doesn't even go here!" Rebekah cried out.
"Oh, Jesus, Cole, I don't know why you make a spectacle of yourself. You don't see me mentioning how your eyebrows are just completely out of control or that gap between your teeth is large enough to drive a Volvo through."
Blaine claimed the mic. "Well, thanks, Santana, but I think that this lovely lady has a point. I just returned to a party. The real king of McKinley is the one who had enough courage to walk back into this school after leaving. Kurt Hummel, why don't you take this?"
A red-faced Kurt complied with his boyfriend's request. "This is all very after-school special, you know." Santana had to smile at Kurt wearing the right crown this time.
She stole the mic again. "So, here's the thing: I wasn't expecting to win this thing, so I agreed to sing the King and Queen song with my homegirl Mercedes Jones, but I'm not missing the chance to dance with my smokin' hot main squeeze. So, 'Cedes, you think you can handle the song by yourself?"
Quinn tapped her on the shoulder. "Actually, if Mercedes wouldn't mind the last-minute substitution, I'd be honored to sing to this very deserving couple."
"Would you now?" Santana shot back.
"Yeah, plus given my improbable friendship with one Rachel Berry and her Rent-inspired love of ABBA, I think I've got the words to this next song down."
Friday night and the lights are low
Looking out for the place to go
Where they play the right music, getting in the swing
You come in to look for a king
Brittany took Santana's hand and danced them down the stage. Kurt, in his crown, dragged Blaine to the floor as well. "We're not being outgayed by a couple of lipstick lesbians."
You're a teaser, you turn 'em on
Leave them burning and then you're gone
Looking out for another, anyone will do
You're in the mood for a dance
And when you get the chance...
Mercedes and Quinn strolled down the steps as the two couples bowed to one another and exchanged partners. Quinn moved to where Santana and Kurt were, and Mercedes to Blaine and Brittany.
You are the Dancing Queen, young and sweet, only seventeen
Dancing Queen, feel the beat from the tambourine
You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life
See that girl, watch that scene, digging the Dancing Queen
It wasn't long before the rest of New Directions found their way into the orbit of the dance-off.
Above the music, Brittany screamed to Santana and Kurt, "Are you guys okay? This was kind of the worse night ever."
"It was okay," Blaine and Santana managed to say at the same time; neither looked particularly pleased with this.
Santana traded back Kurt for Brittany. "Best prom ever," she whispered into the blonde's ear when she got her back.
: : :
Santana couldn't help but notice that Puck's uncle's house had a "For Sale" sign tossed carelessly behind a bush. After walking through the interior, perfectly decorated with artificial fruit and a cardboard TV, she looked out back to see a pile of empty boxed win cartons stacked against the back wall.
Tina pulled Mike close. "So, there was some schmuck in the girls' bathroom earlier, so I was forced to hide my panties in my clutch."
"Why are you telling me this?" Mike wondered, his eyes wide.
"Just… FYI."
The next thing she knew, Tina had been scooped up by her boyfriend and was being raced around the house.
For a while, only Puck was in the pool, in his boxers, his tux hanging on a clothesline. Eventually, some others leapt in after him. Genevieve didn't even remove her aquamarine dress, explaining that since it was already water-colored, the pool was safe for it.
Puck shrugged, "Good enough for me. Where's your date, by the way?"
"Neil? Oh, he dropped me off here. He has church in the morning."
Brittany and Santana found their way into the pool, too, in their respective undergarments, which were matched to the colors of their dresses. Almost immediately, Brittany cornered Santana into the corner of the pool, kissing her deeply. Pretty soon, there were a cacophony of hooting and hollering. Santana tried to apologize, but Brittany brushed it off. Before long, making out in the pool ceased to be enough for the couple, so they pulled themselves out of the pool, dried themselves off with a couple of the uglier dresses hanging on the line, and slipped their dresses back on. Santana took Brittany by the hand and dragged her around the house, looking for an appropriate hookup spot.
They passed by Quinn, who had spent much of the night avoiding Sam. It was not an issue as the blond boy was happily chatting with Faith Jennings about Nashville. For a while, Quinn sat with Artie and Sunshine, who were engaged in a discussion about films based on books that Quinn could follow with relative ease. She evenly loosened up enough to drink a wine cooler, though she nursed it with deliberate slowness. But before long, she made her way back out to the pool, trying to track down Puck. They hadn't spoken since the bathroom, and he need to thank him for his advice. She was even practicing the words her head.
"Puck, I just wanted to thank you for being there for me tonight. I know things have been really awkward between us lately—and by lately, I mean all year—it's just… after the baby—you know?—I wasn't sure where we stood. And then I found Sam and it was just so much easier than…"
Quinn stopped her internal monologue. Somehow she'd found herself reciting a get-back-together speech instead of a thank-you speech.
"Dammit, Puck, stop playing with my head. We're over," she told an armchair, "You've been a horndog all year. In fact tonight, you managed to steal every girl in the entire room from their dates. Except me, of course. And just what's wrong with me anyway? There was a time when you would have cut off your left foot to…"
Quinn found her thoughts had migrated to traitorous territory once again.
"How could I ever be into him? It's not like he has any redeeming features." Quinn then realized why her mind was even on Puck. "Because every once in a while, you show that you're a decent human being who comforts girls who lose their prom queen races even though they gave away your child and didn't talk to your for three months and start dating another guy right in front of your face."
Quinn decided maybe it wouldn't be so bad if she got closer to her ex-boyfriend again. "I'm newly single," she told a framed picture of a flower. "And it's not like I'm going to let him seduce me again. I just think maybe now that Sam is out of the picture, we can reestablish our friendship again." She turned down a hallway. "And if we happen to rekindle something, maybe that wouldn't be so bad."
As the turned a corner, wondering briefly which of Puck's uncles was this loaded—Mrs. Puckerman never mentioned any brothers who weren't blue collar in the time she stayed with them—she was just in time to see Puck stagger into a bedroom with Genevieve McLaire in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.
Her face blank, Quinn strode back towards the backyard in search of more wine coolers, passing Faith on her way. The other blonde looked as intent in her search. Quinn found Sam alone in the backyard, nursing a beer. She took a seat across from him. "I'm sorry," she opened.
Sam wasn't welcoming yet. "Why was the race so important to you?"
"All I have are my looks and popularity."
"You know that's not true, Quinn," he muttered, "With your GPA, you could get into a lot of schools. I don't have that luxury. You might be able to avoid the trouble my folks are in."
"Jail?"
"Unemployment, but they're still there, by the way."
Quinn's brow furrowed. "How soon do they get out?"
"We don't know. The ADA's been stalling. That was a week ago. Thanks for finally asking."
"I guess I have been preoccupied."
"It's okay. You're giving me and my siblings a home. Your mom's providing free babysitting."
"That's no excuse. Your problems kind of dwarf mine."
"You seen Puckerman?"
Quinn bristled. "Why?"
"He offered to let me stay at his place tonight. Unless he gets lucky."
"Then I think you're in need of a roof."
Sam slouched. "I'll manage."
"Of course you will. You're coming back with me."
"Quinn, I don't want things to be awkward."
"They don't have to be. You've got your own room. Now that this stupid race is over, I promise that, if I can't be a more attentive girlfriend, I'm willing to be a more attentive friend."
Sam pulled out the promise ring from his pocket. "You know I searched the ground for ten minutes looking for this thing? I wasn't willing to risk the chance I might be able to fix us."
Quinn pulled the silver ring out of her clutch. "It's me who needs to be fixed. Let's start over. Hold onto that. Give it back when you feel the way you felt before I went crazy."
: : :
C'mon! How hard is it to find an empty room in this damn McMansion?
Santana and Brittany's first stop was the downstairs guest bedroom. It was already occupied. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that was Finnocence and Nunchel rounding second base. Brittany noiselessly closed the door before the couple could take notice of them.
They found the laundry room next, but they weren't the first ones. This time, it was Santana who had to close the door, as Brittany was rather enthralled by the going-ons, not that Santana could blame her. Mike's still limber, I see. Though it's Tina who's more acrobatic than she lets on.
"Upstairs?" Brittany suggested, reading her girlfriend's mind.
However, at the base of the stairs, they were delayed by Faith calling out to them. Santana muttered, "Cockblock" under her breath, but put on a fake smile to greet her friend. "What's up, Jennings? Enjoying the party? We are. Drinks and half-naked people are in the backyard. In case you wanted to avoid all that."
"No, I was looking for you actually." Santana couldn't have looked more impatient if she tried, but Brittany gave a calming squeeze. Faith continued, "So, I just wanted to apologize. That whole thing with you being elected prom king?" Brittany felt Santana squeeze her hand back, but it wasn't for comfort. Faith explained, "That was kind of my fault—"
Her explanation was cut off by Santana slapping her across the face. The brunette didn't give herself the time to enjoy the déjà vu. "You bitch!" Santana screamed, "You homophobic whore! I can't fucking believe I ever agreed to be your goddamn friend. You are… you are just like your fucking hateful parents and that little cult you call a church, aren't you? I can't believe I ever thought you understood this." She gestured toward Brittany and herself. "Am I that disgusting to you? Just because I love Brittany? I… I…"
Before Faith could reply or Santana continue her rant, Brittany pulled at her girlfriend's arm. Suddenly, Santana rushed forward up the stairs, forcefully dragging Brittany with her. She kicked open the first door she found at the top of the steps. She was ready to kick out any couple currently occupying the room, but it was thankfully empty. Still huffing and puffing furiously, she all but threw Brittany on the surprisingly small twin bed. Her corsage was yanked from her wrist and tossed aside. She violently struggled with the zipper on her dress for a few seconds before the clasp yielded and the red material pooled at her feet.
With purpose, she climbed onto the bed and onto Brittany, grabbing the girl's wrists and pinning them to the mattress. After a few calming breaths, she explained, "Brittany… I just need to… right now... Can you…?"
Brittany yielded immediately. Softly, she whispered, "Whatever you need, baby."
Needing no other consent, Santana pressed her lips down onto Brittany's forcefully. There were tears in Santana's eyes but she paid them no mind. Wordlessly, the brunette pulled back and busied her hands with discarding Brittany's corsage, which she put on the dresser with slightly less force than she had used with her own. She did away with Brittany's headband as well, quickly but carefully, and then leaned forward to press her face into the hair, inhaling the scent of the girl's shampoo.
As she dissembled Brittany's dress, the blonde was completely compliant, like a ragdoll until Santana finally got her down to her underwear, at which point she responded to all Santana's advances in earnest. When the brunette burrowed into her neck to kiss and suckle the flesh, Brittany's agile fingers undid the clasp of her bra.
Before long, Brittany was naked and writhing on the bed, covered in more small bruises and bite marks than was typical of her normal rendezvous with Santana. The girl's tan arms seemed more strained than usual as they worked the juncture of the blonde's legs. Brittany didn't mean to be squeezing Santana shoulders so hard, hard enough to leave hand-shaped bruises, but she couldn't help it. She also didn't mean to be screaming so loud during her orgasm, loud enough to be heard across the house, but again she couldn't help it.
It seemed like only seconds later, as Brittany was still getting her bearings, when she realized that Santana was sniffling on her shoulder. It was instinct to run her fingers through Santana's hair. In fact, Brittany found herself already doing it. "Babe?"
"I don't deserve you, do I?"
"That's not true. You're the most awesome girlfriend ever. You're sweet, and you're beautiful, and you sing to me all the time. I love every minute that I'm with you."
But Santana only grew more frantic. "You love me, right? Tell me you love me."
"Santana, I love you. I love everything about you." Santana was still trembling, so she continuing whispering. "Everybody in glee loves you too, you know. They think you're funny and saucy and sexy."
"But you love me, right?"
"Of course I love you. I love you so much. I want to be with you forever, okay?" Santana didn't respond, just nodded her head, so Brittany just squeezed her tighter, whispering, "I love you" repeatedly.
A/N: The visual probably didn't come across, but Finn and Rachel were dressed in costumes inspired by the ball scene from My Fair Lady. Those of you who have seen the movie will have a better idea of what they looked like than I, who has not. Google is your friend.
I obviously didn't have Kurt win prom queen again, because I wanted to avoid the meta thing about you guys knowing (doubly) that it was going to happen.
There's been a lot of clamoring for some Santana/Faith development, and I kind of went in the opposite direction. I do plan to address it in the way you guys are hoping. Just not in this volume.
That random Daniel Creek character, whose name I'd be surprised if you remembered, is played by Sam Tsui. So, if this were the show, he'd obviously have a larger role later on. You probably have noticed a lot of randoms. There's a reason for that, but you don't get to know it just yet.