A/N: Quick Note: Yes, I know I've changed formats from script to paragraph. God hasn't struck me down for it yet, so I think we'll be okay. :D ALSO: Mercedes' name was in last chapter. That was a mistake! I'm sorry! Please, I beg of you all not to virtually impale me and just use your little mental erasers to pretend that little slip-up never happened. Mercedes was not at the party! That'll be important Chapter 5, but I just thought I should let you all know now. Okay. I hope you like this chapter. I already had the idea, but big thanks to that one anonymous guest reviewer (you know who you are! (Even though I don't... xD)) for encouraging it! Happy reading guys!
Santana awakened to a cool breeze slapping across her body, followed immediately by the reek of alcohol and sweat. With a groan she shifted uncomfortably, wondering why her bed was so hard, and why, despite the fact that her eyes were wide open, she couldn't see anything. Even in the dead of night, her room was never entirely black.
She almost panicked for a moment, wondering if it wasn't too insane to think she might've gone blind in the night, when reality punched her in the gut.
You're wearing some sort of mascot head, or something, idiot. She thought to herself, wondering how she had possibly not noticed this before.
With weak hands, Santana yanked the stuffy thing over her head and tossed it to the side, relishing in the cool, fresh air for a moment. Looking over, she almost laughed out loud at the comic moose head grinning at her from it's now upside down position at the other end of the bathtub.
Wait, bathtub?
Looking around, Santana realized that she most definitely was in a bathtub, it's edge littered with half-empty beer bottles and a few cigarettes. As she moved her hand to better support herself she brushed against something and almost shrieked. Okay, so she wasn't alone in this bathtub, either. Directly beside was an unconscious blonde girl, head thrown to the side (Thus her hair concealing her face and masking her identity) and clad in nothing but her underwear. Santana smiled briefly as she realized she wouldn't be the only one waking up to a surprise this morning. Giving the blonde a final once-over, she noted with a kind of bemused absurdity that the girl's underwear were similar to a pair she owned.
Another breeze (which Santana now saw was coming from an open window above the toilet) made Santana shudder, and she felt the goosebumps rising as she looked down with a gasp.
I'm in my underwear too, Santana thought in dismay. Then, a more horrifying thought: No. No I'm not. I'm in someone else's underwear.
Santana's blood suddenly chilled, and the goosebumps on her slim torso seem to shiver as she recognized the lacy pink Q's embroidered on the light blue panties and bra cups with a kind of dull shock.
Why am I wearing Quinn's underwear?
Trembling, Santana refocused her attention on the peacefully dozing blonde beside her, this time paying a bit more attention to details, and yep those underwear were definitely familiar now. I'd recognize that faded red stain anywhere, she thought. Julie Hampshire's birthday party: 7th grade. Someone had spilled red punch into Santana's lap, staining her new white party dress red, and for weeks after that they had called her Period Party Pack.
All that was light years away now, however, as Santana's reality kept trying to force the obvious truth in front of every weak excuse she could come up with.
Without breathing, Santana forced herself to reach out and brush away the blonde hair concealing the face she so desperately needed to but didn't want to see.
With a choked sob, Santana puled back her hand to cover her mouth as she stared in Quinn's sleeping face, worst suspicions confirmed.
Santana gripped he edge of the tub to brace herself against the wave of dizziness that had just smacked her dead in the face as a million thoughts raced through her head.
We did not get it on in a bathtub. We did not get it on! Oh God, what if someone watched? She has a boyfriend, dumbass! Wren's gonna kill me. Then, with an internal groan: Wren's gonna kill us.
Santana put her face into her hands, overwhelmed, trying desperately to fight back the tears that were building up and threatening to come. If she hadn't had a hangover before, she certainly had one now.
She wondered illogically if she couldn't just leave right now, leaving Quinn none the wiser. She could keep it a secret, right? Move to a little cottage in Romania, raise chickens... maybe she could even tell the chickens! They wouldn't judge her, right? They'd understand. "It was the alcohol," she'd tell them. "Just a little bathtub fun between friends, right?" One of whom was straight, and in a loving, committed relationship, the other a flaming Lebanese, granted, but other than that minor detail-
The most obvious thought interrupted Santana's little Romanian chicken farm fantasy.
The underwear, retard. You're wearing each others freaking underwear.
Irrationally, Santana considered for a moment if it would be too impossible to just switch them out while Quinn was still sleeping.
But wouldn't that be like, rape? Santana's rational mind questioned.
Well, I'm pretty sure we're beyond that small informality, considering whatever happened last night, another part of her mind argued back.
Nothing! She whispered heatedly. Nothing at all happened last night, so you just shut the hell up! Santana clapped a hand over her mouth and her eyes went wide as she realized she was sitting, basically naked and alone, in Toby Cavanaugh's bathtub talking to herself.
With a sigh, she turned and faced Quinn's unconscious figure, trying to make up her mind. Finally letting her inner crazy (and apparently there was a lot of that) make the decision for her, Santana reached out with tentative fingers towards Quinn's body. Her shaking hand was about an inch from the hem of Quinn's (Hers?) underwear when the blonde suddenly shifted with an uncomfortable grimace.
Santana's hand snapped back, and her head was absolutely throbbing now as Quinn cracked open an eye and regarded the all-but-naked Latina in the bathtub beside her.
"Holy shit." Quinn mumbled.
X
Puck's neck was aching fiercely as he hauled himself up from behind the couch and into a sitting position. Despite the pain, he smiled.
Puck loved nights like last night. Getting trashed with all his friends to the point he had absolutely no recollection when he woke up the next morning in some random, obscure place. Well, aside from the time he'd woken up in he pool... That hadn't been so great. Luckily for him it had been empty.
But that was it. No hangover (he was way beyond those by now), no memories, just good, mindless, mostly innocent fun. It was one of the best highs he could imagine. With a sigh, and still smiling to himself like an idiot, Puck stood and stretched lazily, taking his time to take in the scene around him. The living room was beyond trashed, and he didn't want to be there when Toby woke up from wherever he was currently passed out. Patting his pocket, he was deeply relieved to find his keys still nestled there (because that most certainly was not always the case), and he began picking his way across bodies and empty pizza boxes towards the front door. Pausing above a box that wasn't quite empty, Puck stooped down and picked up a piece of cold, but still perfectly edible pizza. In doing so, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something that made him put the pizza back and rise to his feet.
There, lying on the kitchen floor absolutely naked (aside from his boxers and a Santa Claus bow tie) was Mike Chang, cuddling with the beer keg with a sappy smile plastered on his face. Not one to miss an opportunity like that, Puck immediately whipped out his phone and, grinning like an idiot, took a few blackmail shots before crouching beside his drunken Asian friend and prodding him gently in the ribs.
"Mikey. Hey, Mike buddy."
"Mmfulanunga..." Mike muttered incoherently, releasing the beer keg to clutch at his head.
"Hey big boy, ya gotta get up now. I gotta get you home bro. Emily's probably worried sick."
"Mike sat up, groggily rubbing at his eyes and grimacing. "Uh-uh, Emmy drove herself home, ithkk...", he trailed off, already dozing back into dreamland. Puck sighed, crouching there a moment longer before rising and going to the kitchen sink to fill a glass with cold water. Returning to Mike, he stood over him for a minute, regarding him with a regretful sigh before pouring the contents of the glass over his head and walking away. Behind him he could hear a long stream of curses coming from the kitchen, and he smiled to himself as he went off in search of any more forgotten comrades. It turns out there were quite a few.
At the very top of the stairs was a door that led to, if his memory served him right, the bathroom. Pushing open that door, Puck drew in a long breath at the sight in front of him: Santana and Quinn, sitting in the bathtub together clad in nothing but their underwear, and staring at each other with wide eyes. When he entered the room, both girls shrieked guiltily and Santana threw what looked like a moose's head at him, yelling something in broken Spanglish.
Shutting the door quickly, Puck tried to keep a steady voice (even though his eyes were bugging out and his chest was heaving with silent laughter) and called through it "I'm leaving in ten. Get in another round if ya like but if you two aren't downstairs by then, I'm leaving you." His mouth widened into a toothy, comical smile and he clapped his hands dramatically (but silently) in amusement at the girls' protesting shouts coming through the thin wood. In the back of his mind aside from the hilarity of the situation, he knew that he should probably just forget that it had even happened, but he couldn't worry about that just now; He had other business to attend to.
Puck sauntered down the rest of the hallway and back, opening and closing doors as he checked each room for anyone he knew. At this point, he had no clue who was left. Finding nothing upstairs, he trotted back down the stairs at a lively place to check the rest of the downstairs.
Deciding to start in the kitchen, Puck opened first the broom closet, relieved to find none of his friends in there doing God only knows what with the mops and such. Opening the pantry, however, he found Sugar, slumped in a corner with an open jar of Nutella in her lap and handcuffs on her left ankle.
He didn't even want to know.
Sugar was a bit more responsive than Mike, and he had no difficulty waking her and directing her towards the living room. Following behind a stumbling Sugar with a steadying hand on her shoulder, Puck headed towards the living room. There he found Mike was awake and standing at the foot of the stairs, watching Santana and Quinn as they descended slowly, towels wrapped around their bodies.
"What's this? No clothes then, guys?", Mike asked, with a smug smile.
"Shut the hell up Fortune Cookie." Santana snapped, crossing her arms tighter and glaring at him.
"Oh, I bet you know all about those." Mike retorted with a knowing smirk, causing Quinn to flush red and Santana to curse under her breath.
"Hey, hey. Let's keep it friendly up in here." Puck said sternly, but when Santana wasn't looking, he gave Mike a quick air high-five. Quinn did see, though, and blushed even darker, sitting down on the steps and placing her head on her knees.
Puck felt a little bad then, realizing the internal struggle Quinn was probably dealing with right now regarding Wren and the whole situation. He imagined this all wasn't nearly as funny to her as it was to him. Pushing aside his guilty conscience for the time being, Puck surveyed the group around him taking a mental roll call as he did so.
Mike, Sugar, Santana, and Quinn. Emily has apparently already gone home, but that still left Ezra, Aria, Spencer, Marley, Caleb, Hanna and Tina.
Puck figured that Aria had taken Ezra home, seeing as how she had been a designated driver, and likewise for Marley, Tina, and Caleb. A quick call to Hanna confirmed hat she had also made it home safely, though she had to catch a bus because Mercedes was nowhere to be found. So that took care of them... but where was his lovely girlfriend, Spencer?
The bedraggled group settled themselves down around the room as Puck hurriedly punched in Spencer's phone number, trying not to worry or overthink this too much. After all, Spence was a big girl. He tried to reassure himself with that thought as he held the phone to his ear. He gave it 8 rings, but got no response. Mike shot him a questioning look, but Puck just shook his head, and frowning slightly, redialed the number. Spencer always picked up her phone.
Just as he was about to hang up again, he heard something, faintly. Following the noise, he crossed the living room and opened the front door. Yep, there it was, and a lot clearer now, Stepping down onto the porch and shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight, he had to suppress a laugh as he took in the scene in front of him.
There was Spencer, face down in the middle of the driveway, her phone's ringtone absolutely blaring. He hadn't even known a phone's volume got that loud.
The others had followed Puck out onto the porch, and as their eyes began to slowly adjust to the light, he heard muffled laughter from behind him. He glared at them until they quieted, and then, with a defeated sigh, walked the walk of shame over to the unconscious girl sprawled across the driveway.
X
30 minutes later found the 6 piled into Puck's 2004 Jeep Wrangler, Sugar opting to sit on Mike's lap up front, the three girls in the back. Mike had tried repeatedly to call his sister, but Emily was apparently pissed at him and didn't answer.
Spencer was against the left back door, staring out the window with grumpy stubbornness and refusing to make eye contact with anyone. She had been understandably embarrassed about being found unconscious out in Toby Cavanaugh's driveway, skirt hiked up around her thighs and wristwatch effectively entwined into her tangled hair. It had taken nearly 20 minutes to separate her wrist from her head, and after being held in that awkward position for so long, her arm was extremely sore. So yes, she was a bit grumpy.
This left Quinn and Santana sitting awkwardly beside each other, neither wanting to make accidental eye or body contact with the other. Thankfully they weren't still in towels, or that'd have been awkward. Toby had... "loaned", them both T-Shirts and board shorts for the ride home (well, actually he'd been passed out underneath some girl on the living room floor, but he hadn't said "no" when Puck asked, so...). Anyhow, Quinn had all but plastered herself to the right hand door, and Santana had scooted as close to Spencer as was humanly possible without touching her. After all, Spencer was clearly not in the best of moods, and Santana just want to reach home without receiving her trademark death scowl.
Despite his friends' miserable mornings, Puck was in a lovely mood. The sun was shining, the air was warm, and hell if those weren't birds tweeting in the background. Pulling on his favorite shades and popping a piece of gum into his mouth, Puck slid his current favorite CD in the radio and pulled off, smiling like an idiot at how wonderfully his day was going. And that was pretty damn wonderful, at this point.
The peace lasted about 10 minutes.
"Puuucckkkkk", Sugar whined, twisting in Mike's lap to pout in his direction. "Could you please turn that offffff? Those drummy things are hurting my headdddddd."
"That's the bass Sugar" Puck replied, sighing wearily, but nonetheless he turned the radio off. He just wanted everyone else to share in his great mood. Apparently that was too much to ask, though, because now there was a tense, awkward silence.
Spencer was the one who finally broke it, and honestly Puck found himself wishing she hadn't.
"Ya know you don't all need to sit there and think awful things about me. You can say it out loud." Spencer snapped, earning herself an incredulous stare from Puck in the rearview mirror. Quinn just seemed to sink even further into herself, and Santana rolled her eyes. Sugar and Mike were oblivious, giggling to each other in the front seat.
Seemingly satisfied with her irrational outburst, Spencer re-crossed her arms gingerly and resumed staring out the window.
More silence followed, and Puck savored it, awkwardness and all. Even that small comfort however was apparently too good for one Noah Puckerman, because Santana piped up next.
"Hey, lovebirds, can ya hush? Some of us have head splitting hangovers back here.", she growled, crossing her arms.
"Don't be angry at the world, Santana, just because you aren't happy," Mike replied, shooting a sarcastic grin in Puck's direction. Puck didn't return it.
Santana suddenly smacked Mike upside the head, causing him to nearly drop Sugar as he spun around to face her.
"What the hell Santana?!" he yelled, and Sugar began shrieking as his water bottle tipped and began spilling out onto her lap.
"Oh, I'm sorry hobbit. Were you planning on becoming a doctor with those Asian brain cells?" Santana spat venomously. "Don't worry, I'm sure chop suey chefs are in extremely high demand these days too."
"You know what, Santana, I am tired of your racist-"
The car swerved and Puck pulled to a quick stop on the side of the road, (thankfully) scaring Sugar out her outraged shrieks. Everyone immediately began shouting their protests, and Puck could feel the blood burning in his temples.
"WILL ALL OF YOU JUST SHUT UP?" He barked, staring at each of them blazingly in turn. "You will NOT ruin my morning-after vibe!"
He was met with guilty silence from all but Santana, who opened her mouth to reply.
Puck beat her to it.
"Save it, Lopez, unless you wanna go back to your true immigrant tan hiking your ass back to you and Quinn's dorm."
Santana shut her mouth with an incredulous stare, and with a sigh, Puck lowered his glasses and pulled back onto the road, reminding himself to give a fuck later. The rest of the ride, to Puck's great relief, was blissfully silent.
Puck dropped off Mike first, following his directions to a nice, brick ranch style home which Mike said was his parents'. Giving him an apologetic smile, Puck suppressed a smile as Mike climbed out of the car, already defeated, and trudged away to face his sister's wrath. The door to Mike's house swung open before he was even halfway to his porch, and there was Emily, hair flying as she stormed down the brick path barefoot, pajama pants and all, shouting at him angrily. Puck pulled away before she came for him next.
Next to go were Santana and Quinn. When Puck pulled up to the curb outside their dormitory, Quinn all but ran from the car, leaving Santana to lean on the car door and thank him for the ride alone.
"Thanks for the ride Shark Boy. I feel like a V.I.P prostitute, minus the hedge clippers." Puck had no clue what she was talking about, but nodded nonetheless. He really just wanted to get home. With a wink and a smirk, Santana was off, following Quinn into their dorm building.
Students were milling about the campus in the mid day heat, and Puck suddenly found himself wishing he hadn't dropped out to move in with Ezra. Sure, Spence had been able to find an open space rooming with Ezra's girlfriend Aria, and the two had become great friends and all, but... he just missed it sometimes. College life was by far easier than the real world, and he knew that now.
Puck sat there a moment longer, lost in his reverie, until a hand tapped him lightly on the shoulder startling him from his thoughts and causing him to turn backward in his seat.
"Are you gonna sit here and look at hot college girl asses all day, or are we taking Sugar over to Mercedes and Hanna's? I would like to get home sometime before I'm 30." Spencer's eyebrow was raised, and her small smile was uncertain as she met his eyes, but Puck was okay with that. A smile was a smile. He was just relieved to see that she was beginning to return to her usual self.
"Um, yeah babe. Sorry bout that." Puck pinched Spencer's nose lightly, ignoring Sugar pretending to vomit in the seat next to him, before he put the car into reverse and pulled back out onto the main road.
Puck's good vibe had been killed by now, and he could feel a kind of depressing little melancholy settling over his heart as he watched the clouds building up out on the western horizon. It was only 11:30, but he could tell this was going to be a very long day.
A/N: Gah I know this took forever, I'm sorry! I have absolutely nothing to blame other than my own procrastination, and I accept all cyber pitchforks thrown in my direction, I deserve them!
Of course, thanks to my big sister and unofficial beta synful92 , we're tying out this whole FanFic thing together, and I must say she's doing far better than me. Lol Review guys! You inspire my story because God knows I love ideas! Plot-Bunnies run wild when people work together.
Okay, Okay, I'll leave you be now. Goodbye all. I love you's!
~XxKossikaxX ~