Disclaimer: Still not mine.
The Latina's jaw drops as she watches a familiar figure tumbling across the mats in the school gym, music blaring in the background. She finds her voice again as the girl in question completes a second tumbling pass. "Berry!"
The petite brunette stills, then slowly turns around. "Yes, Santana?"
"Where did you learn to do that?" demands the fiery Cheerio captain.
"I've taken gymnastics for years. I haven't competed in a long time, though," responds the singer cautiously. "Why?"
Santana smirks. "Lauren sprained her ankle at practice yesterday. We need another girl to fill in for her for the next couple weeks."
Rachel looks at her in confusion. "Fill in for her? For what. . ." her voice trails off as realization dawns on her. "Oh, no. You cannot be serious."
"I'm completely serious, Berry. Coach will kick my ass if we can't perform because we don't have enough girls," scowls Santana.
She folds her arms across her chest. "Absolutely not. How do I know this isn't another twisted plan that results in my being humiliated in front of the entire school?"
"In case you haven't noticed, I haven't been tormenting you recently. I haven't called you Manhands or RuPaul in, like, weeks."
Rachel actually snorts. "That's your idea of being nice to me? Not calling me humiliating and degrading names?"
Santana sighs, because of course Rachel has no way of knowing that she banned the Cheerios from calling the singer anything that wasn't actually her name. She doesn't know that Lauren sprained her ankle because Santana decided to have her do an extra set of toe-touches when she caught the blonde drawing a pornographic picture of Rachel on the wall of the second floor girls' room. She doesn't know that Santana enlisted the aid of Puck, Mike and Matt to keep Karofsky the hell away from her. She has no way of knowing that Santana had decided that Rachel may have been ten kinds of crazy, but she was Glee's crazy, Santana's crazy. And no one messes with anything that Santana considers hers. Of course, there is no way she's telling any of that to Rachel.
"Whatever Berry. I haven't been any more of a bitch to you recently than I am to anyone else at this school. That's me being nice."
"That may be so, but I'm still not filling in for your injured Cheerio."
"Why the hell not?"
"Please. Do I look like a cheerleader? The second anyone from this school sees me in a Cheerio uniform I have no doubt they will laugh me off the field. I doubt that's the kind of reception you want for your squad."
"Seriously?" scoffs the Latina. "If anyone sees you in a Cheerio uniform, they'll assume you are a Cheerio. And nobody laughs a Cheerio off the field."
"Perhaps I am not being sufficiently clear. I simply do not want to be a Cheerio."
"Every girl at this school wants to be a Cheerio. Come on. You apparently can handle the tumbling, the skirt isn't any shorter than anything you would usually wear, and I know you like to perform."
"Be that as it may. I am still not going to fill in the temporary spot. I have quite enough on my plate without learning cheerleading routines that I would only need for a few weeks."
Santana stares at her in astonishment, because when did Rachel Berry grow a backbone? She thinks over the singer's words, though, and begins to smile slyly. She has a plan. Santana Lopez always gets what she wants, and right now? She wants Rachel Berry to be a Cheerio.