A/N: I have finally figured out the best way for me to write. Shorter updates, shorter time between them. Instead of waiting for a 'respectable' amount of words to be written per chapter, now I post when I feel done. This has really revolutionized my whole writing process, and I feel like I'm, if you forgive me, 'flourishing'. *grins* I've been doing so much writing recently and I love it! *dances happily*
Santana strutted into McKinley High with extra arrogance on Monday morning, knowing that that day would be a good day. She'd heard some great rumors over the weekend that, if handled correctly, would only cement her standing as the Head Bitch in Charge, as well as the day before had been spent scheming with Brittany and Quinn on how to enact the second phase of their plan. She was still highly pleased at how well the first phase had gone.
Slushie-ing the first freshman she saw, laughing as she saw him dissolve into tears and race for the nearest bathroom, she threw the empty cup away and made her way to her locker. Spotting Quinn and Brittany already waiting for her, she bumped Quinn's shoulder and playfully tugged on Brittany's ponytail.
"S!" Brittany smiled, "Have you seen Rachel yet?"
"Ugh. Thank you." Grumbling, Quinn elbowed Santana, glaring at her before going back to applying some clear lip gloss. It was only because she'd caught sight of Santana coming up behind her in the mirror she'd hung up in her locker door that she didn't now have vanilla sugar all over her cheek.
Smirking back at Quinn, Santana opened her own locker. "Nope, not yet, B. But don't worry, I gots it under control."
"Okay, wait. Just, wait." Fluffing out her ponytail, Quinn shut her locker with a bang and looked straight at Santana. "I know we've talked about this before – and goodness knows all day yesterday," she rolled her eyes, "But do you truly know the social suicide you're committing here?"
Santana paused the application of her mascara. "You got something to say, Q?" she started warningly.
"I do." Quinn crossed her arms, hazel eyes narrowing. "This is Rachel Berry we're talking about. The absolute bottom of the McKinley High popularity ladder!"
"But she's nice. A little scary, sometimes, but nice," Brittany interjected, smiling supportively at Santana.
Shooting her a quick smile in thanks, Santana closed her locker and took a step towards Quinn, eyes narrowing, "Like you have a platform to stand on, baby momma. Shut your mouth."
Red crept up Quinn's face, and she took a deep breath. "Believe it or not," she stated tightly, "Maybe I'm saying this for your benefit."
"Yeah, like I believe that." Santana snorted. "Who rules this school, Q? Who? The sheeple? Don't make me laugh." Placing her hands on her hips, Santana smirked, arching her eyebrows. "We do. And nothing can take that away from us. Hell, we're in glee club and we're still top bitches." Taking another step forward and entering Quinn's space, she lowered her voice, "No, something tells me this isn't about me at all, is it, Quinnie?"
Looking down, grinding her teeth for a couple of beats, Quinn raised her head and glared at Santana. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Uhm… I don't either…" Brittany trailed off.
Santana reached out and squeezed Brittany's hand, sliding her fingers down so their pinkies linked together. "It's all right, B," she smirked pointedly at Quinn for a second longer and then stepped back, "I'll explain later."
"Thank you. Hey, there's Rachel!" Dropping Santana's pinky, Brittany skipped off in the direction of the front doors. Keeping her gaze locked with Quinn until the blonde looked away when Sam came up to collect her, Santana counted that as a win. Throwing the blonde one last taunting quirk of her lips, she turned to join Rachel and Brittany at Rachel's locker.
Having to stop to throw a jock's slushie back into his own face as she saw him heading towards the two girls, she smoothly slid herself behind Rachel. "Berry," she enjoyed the surprised snapping up of the other girl's head, "You're looking less atrocious today." She drank in the tight white dress that fell to mid-calf, a light gray short sweater tied around her shoulders. Could've been better, but it magnificently highlighted her thin waist so it wasn't a total waste.
Rachel flushed, and she barely paused arranging her locker to shoot Santana a mild irate look, "I'll take that as the veiled compliment it was, thank you."
Santana grinned. Of course she would.
"Hey, Rache," Brittany butt in, clasping her hands behind her back, "S was telling me about the song you wanna do for, uhm… The duos? And I wanted to know if you needed help with the choreography."
A wave of pure shock washed over Rachel's face, and it looked like a smile she didn't know if she should have was pushing at her lips. When she glanced over at Santana, Santana just quirked her eyebrows. It was Brittany's show, not hers.
Brittany started talking again. "I mean, I know I'm more talented than you," Santana clamped down on the snickers that threatened to come out at the falling of Rachel's face, "When it comes to dancing, but you're one of the other best singers I know, aside from myself. And Kurt said that if I didn't perform like an admiral, he'd never forgive me. And since he's gay, I know he wouldn't. I was hoping you would tell him I don't need to be an admiral. I'm just me."
Rachel frowned. Shutting her locker door, she turned to face Brittany fully, "What song are you two doing?"
"Uh…" As her best friend tried to remember the name of the song, Santana rolled her eyes. Taking out her phone, she quickly texted Kurt. Yo, Gaymo. The song you n' B r doing.
Thirty seconds later, Kurt responded back. Hello, 'Bimo'. My Heart Will Go On, by the delectable Ms. Dion.
Santana frowned. That wasn't a duet! And what the hell was with the Bimo? Porcelain needed someone to put him in his place. Leaving that for later, she pushed her phone in front of Brittany's face.
"Oh! San, how does your phone know?"
"It's not my phone, B. It's Kurt. I texted him."
"Oh, yeah. You know, I think my cat has started texting out my secrets." Frowning, Brittany looked down, only looking up when Santana turned to Rachel and told her what Kurt had said – minus the Bimo, of course – and the smaller girl made a noise of consternation.
Echoing Santana's thought that My Heart Will Go On wasn't a duet, Rachel crossed her arms. "That won't do," she frowned, "Brittany, do you really want to do that song?"
Brittany furrowed her brow. "Well, not really…" she trailed off, "But Kurt wouldn't listen to the fact that I'm the best singer in glee. He didn't even listen to the song I wanted to do." The tall girl's shoulders slumped, and she pouted.
Santana scowled. Brittany hadn't told her this. Kurt really needed someone to put him in his place, now! Reaching out and running her hand down Brittany's arm supportively, she asked, "What song did you want to do, B?"
The girl brightened. "I See the Light, from Tangled."
"Oh, wow." Rachel blinked, and she smiled in pleased surprise, "That could be really interesting." Pausing, she suddenly nodded resolutely, "Alright. Santana and I will talk to him. We'll get you to have a real duet, even if it isn't that exact one, okay?"
A wide smile split Santana's face, and she barely reined it in before Rachel saw it. The fact that she had automatically included her in her plan instead of shunting it off on just Santana or just herself, told her that even just one evening hanging out with her had improved her standings with the other girl. "You're damn right it is," she cut in, "There's no way in hell I'm letting Kurt push you to the background, B."
Looking back and forth between her and Rachel, Brittany suddenly grabbed both of them into a group hug, "You guys are so nice!" and Santana could feel Rachel's side press against hers. Man, she was small. Still, that brief contact, as her hand brushed against Rachel's hip, was enough to make her even more determined to make Rachel hers.
But first, when Brittany let them go and Rachel's eyes sparkled with bashful happiness, Santana mentally cracked her knuckles. No one got away with keeping Brittany down.