Hi folks. Firstly, thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed or alerted. It's nice to know I am not the only insane person writing and reading this stuff.
Secondly, a few words to explain some wild inaccuracies and crazy shit. I am from the UK and I've never been to Vegas. This is all made up (clearly) and I have taken vast liberties with everything and everyone including a certain singer. If said singer is reading (what? it could happen) I'm sorry and please don't sue/kill me etc.
VEGAS - PART 1
Las Vegas - Post incident
In the casino big cheese's office a young, floppy haired security guard reported to his boss, the owner and director of the casino. "Did you find them Joe?"
"No sir. The name they booked in with was different to the one on the credit card. We can run a trace on both, but sir, they left several thousand dollars worth of cash in their room."
"Enough to cover the damage?"
"Yes sir, and more."
"Hmm. All the same, put those posters up around town and get them in the system. Inform the FBI as well, I don't want them anywhere near here again."
"Is it really necessary to involve the FBI, sir? They didn't steal anything, well, except for a Barbra Streisand poster."
"Don't tell me they got to you as well. I see here you've put in a claim for loss of handcuffs, uniform and security card."
The guard hanged his head in shame.
"Take it out of the money in their room. I expect they're responsible." Joe didn't refute that assumption.
Las Vegas – Pre incident
Brittany held tightly to the wind-shield of Santana's convertible, her hair flipped around in the wind as she whooped and hollered in delight at the surrounding sights. "We're in Vegas baby!" she shouted and dropped down laughing into the passenger seat beaming at Santana beside her who was trying to concentrate on driving while laughing at Brittany's enthusiastic arrival in the city. "Which hotel are we staying at? Can we go to the one with the pirates?"
"Which one has pirates?"
"I'm not sure. It was on Miss Congeniality 2." (not that I've ever seen that movie, readers. ahem.)
"B, as much as we deserve the sparkliest, shiniest, swankiest hotel. We'll be slumming it in a motel."
"Awww," Brittany pouted. "You said anything I want. I want the Luxor or the Bellagio. It'll be easier to carry the wonga to our room if we're in the same building as the casino."
"Wonga?" She had to ask.
"It means money, duh. Like gravy, greenbacks, dough, dosh, bread..." Santana groaned as Brittany reeled off a list of money slang. As if Brittany wasn't already confusing enough.
"God, B. How many Vegas movies have you been watching?"
"All of them. How much money do you think we're going to win?"
"I honestly couldn't tell you. Hopefully enough to pay for the motel. We have to pay cash or my dad will find out we're here if I use his card to pay for a swanky suite in a Vegas hotel."
"So pay the swanky in cash. We can use our casino winnings, I bet they get that all the time. Please?" she fluttered her eyelashes and pouted as pathetically as possible.
For christssakes S. Pull yourself together and say no to her for once.
"Okay."
Brittany grinned from ear to ear then launched herself across the car and kissed Santana on the cheek. Santana's cheeks flushed pink as she tried not to crash. This, parentally unapproved, vacation was in celebration of the fact that Brittany had seen the light and ditched Artie and much to Santana's delight, consequentially had lot's more time to spend with her best friend.
"Let's have the best time ever and forget all about that little hiccup that shall not be named," Santana declared.
"Huh, do you mean Artie?"
"That shall not be named," Santana sighed.
"Oooh. Got it." Brittany giggled, leaning back and waving her arms up in the air feeling the wind slip through her fingers and the sun warming her skin. "I've got a warm squiggly feeling Vegas is going to be awesome."
They drove down the strip meandering through the traffic with Brittany hanging over the side of the car drinking in the atmosphere. "That one, that one!" She almost jumped out of the car as she shouted, catching a glimpse of a giant pyramid. "Lets stay there! No look! That one's got fountains! That one, that one!"
Santana couldn't take much more of the screaming in her ear so pulled over into the nearest big shiny hotel, Caesar's Palace.
They handed the car over to valet and grinned as porters took their luggage. As they walked into the lobby and saw the fancy décor Santana began to feel unsure about this. "Have we got everything? Let's do the checks. Fake ID?"
"Check."
"Cash?"
"Check. What are you going to spend your winnings on?" Brittany asked as Santana stared blankly ahead, her mind trying to sabotage the trip.
Oh why did she have to say that. What was this voice in her head, was she growing a conscience? Was a mini version of her father sitting on her shoulder whispering common sense into her ear? That's incredibly irresponsible Santana, he was saying. You're supposed to look out for Brittany not drag her to Vegas to run wild in. Did you really think this was a good idea?
"I'm not sure about this," she squeaked, her eyes finally focusing on Brittany.
Brittany stood directly in front of her and put her hands on her shoulders. "It's okay, breathe. I'm a pro."
Santana's nose wrinkled up. What? She mouthed in dread.
"I can do this, win the money. I've been training on everyone in school. No one has any money for their spring break now, especially the footballers. I took them to the cleaners. Breathe, babe, just remember to breathe. For once let me worry about stuff. If we don't win we can rob the casino, or rob someone who's won loads of money or find some guy who's won and persuade him to give us his money."
"Hopefully it wont come to that," Santana said, in dismay.
"Come on, San. Like seriously, how much trouble could we possibly get into if we're together?" Brittany gave her a blinding smile and her mind rolled over and turned to mush.
Well, okay then. Totally whipped, she admitted to herself and sighed.
"Alright. Remember what we discussed and let me deal with this," Santana said, her voice oozing confidence she wasn't quite feeling all the way to her toes. She made her way over to the front desk.
"Hi. We'd like a suite."
"Certainly, that will be 2000 dollars a night."
"How much?" It came out in a hushed whisper and Santana paled.
"It's cool we can pay cash with our winnings, right?" asked Brittany with a confident smirk.
"Certainly. So long as we have a credit card on file." The attendant behind the desk raised an eyebrow. "Just in case. Miss?"
"Berry, Rachel Berry." Santana smiled a big cheesy broadway grin.
"And I'm Quinn Fabray, tee hee." Brittany giggled, seemingly oblivious to the slight dig just given to them by the woman behind the desk. She tugged a lock of hair and twirled it in her fingers in a passable imitation of Quinn. Santana tried not to laugh and decided that using Rachel's name was as far as she would go in her impersonation.
Thankfully, the attendant didn't have mind reading powers and when a big flashing sign and alarm didn't start blaring 'Liars, liars, liars! We've got a couple of lying liars here!' over their heads, Santana breathed a bit easier.
Once safely up in their suite Santana sat down on the bed and allowed herself to relax, smiling at the spectacular view out of the window. Brittany ran around the suite opening all the doors and checking every room, every nook and cranny, for what Santana couldn't fathom. She was still feeling a little bit green as she pondered realistically how they were going to pay for the suite. If they didn't win, and Brittany was adamant they would, she'd have to pay with her card and her dad would know everything. Lost in thought she jumped as the bed moved and she felt legs wrap around her waist from behind and a pair of strong arms hugged her. Brittany rested her chin on Santana's shoulder and held her completely enveloped in a full Brittany hug. Santana put her hands on top of Brittany's and held her there.
"This is brilliant. Thanks for bringing me here."
"I'm sorry," Santana sighed. "About everything that went wrong this year. I want it to be just us. No one else. I don't want there to be other people."
"I don't like it when you're mad at me," Brittany's breath tickled her ear. "I've never seen you like that before. Deep mad. Nice mad. You didn't shout at me or be mean to me or anything."
"I'm sorry," Santana said again.
"You're silly." Brittany pressed her lips to Santana's cheek. "This is going to be the best vacation ever," she whispered in her ear. "Look!" They watched together as the fountains outside the hotel danced and splashed, lit up and changed colour. Santana's mood was getting lighter by the second.
Once they entered the casino games room, Brittany immediately squealed in delight. "Oh my god! Free champagne." She knocked back a glass and handed one to Santana who found her nerves lulled and somehow it became a lot easier to breathe once she had a bubbly glass of shampoo inside her. "Remember, S. Look 21, think 21. Oooh, free cocktails. I want the ones with the little umbrellas!"
The waiter smiled and handed her a pink cocktail in a martini glass with a pink umbrella and and a couple of cherries. "There is also a buffet if you're hungry, Miss," he said, indicating a hall off to the side full of food. Brittany's jaw dropped.
"We don't ever have to leave the hotel." She sighed happily.
Santana sat back and watched Brittany let her highly trained gambling senses take over and do her thing, not feeling in the slightest bit inclined to gamble herself. She guessed it would more than likely not take her long to become frustrated, lose her temper and start throwing things if she played. Brittany on the other hand.
Two glasses of champagne and six cocktails later Brittany had given up trying to remember how to use her card counting skills and had moved on to roulette.
"I won, I won, I won!" Brittany threw the eight thousand dollars worth of chips she had just won up in the air and danced as it clattered down around her.
"Congratulations Miss," said the dealer without batting an eyelid as though he often saw people behave like this when they won. "You also get a bundle of discount vouchers for the local areas businesses. The King's Wedding Chapel across the road, Viva Las Vegas tattoo parlour, Miss Slinky's strip club and many more. Fifty percent discounts, tonight only."
"Woooo hoooo!"
As witness to all this, Santana simply blinked and peered deeply into her cocktail glass. These were really good. Really, really good. No, really, really, really good. They were giving Brittany mad math skills and she was winning. What the hell was in these cocktails? They had either made Brittany develop telekinetic powers or she had a strange natural affinity with the universe in which she could predict exactly what number the ball was going to land on. Fuck, these cocktails were good. She needed another. "C'mon B. More drinks and some food and then more umbrellas and then something."
"Okay," Brittany chirped happily, taking the bag of chips the roulette dealer had collected for her.
"We could live here," Santana said. "You could go to work and win the money and I could live next to the pool with a cocktail in hand. Mmmm."
They tottered out of the games room arm in arm with Brittany clasping her bag of chips tightly to her chest when Santana halted suddenly, stopping Brittany from rushing past her. "What? What is it? I've gotta pee," she turned to where Santana was staring with her mouth open in surprise.
"Look. At. That." She gasped. "No. Freaking. Way."
'Tonight at Caesar's Palace.
For one performance only.
Barbra Streisand!'
"Kurt and Rachel would have curled up and died from diva fever already," Brittany said. "Oh, you know what? The whole glee club wouldn't believe it if we got our photo taken with her. And we should get her autograph for Kurt. And Rachel."
Santana screwed up her nose in disgust. "Whatevs, B. We should get our photo taken just to rub their noses in it. Can you imagine the look on Rachel's face if we met her idol," she sniggered.
Brittany couldn't stand still any longer and ran off to find a bathroom leaving Santana to plot and scheme and imagine the look on Rachel's face if they met and corrupted her idol. Climbing happily out of her daydream Santana looked around to find Brittany no where to be seen. She began to panic. She couldn't lose Brittany, not in Vegas. Shit.
Not knowing where to go or able to turn and look around without getting dizzy she decided to stand very still and hope Brittany came back. After a few minutes of swaying on the spot her mood darkened again and she decided to take it out on the nearest thing.
Looking around she surreptitiously leaned against the display case holding the Barbra poster and tried to jimmy open the glass door housing the hallowed poster. If they weren't going to go to the show, and lets face it she really didn't want to, she was sure as hell going to steal the poster.
"Excuse me, Miss." A very young and green around the ears security guard interrupted her not so covert thieving. "What do you think you're doing?
"Uh nothing, obviously. I was just taking a closer look. I wanted to know how much tickets were. It must be written on here in teeny tiny writing cos I can't see it anywhere."
"Oh, I see," he smiled, falling for her every word.
What a dumbass, Santana rolled her eyes at the rather Finnocence-like guard.
"They're five hundred dollars."
"For serious?" she yelled. The guard was saved from an outraged ear bashing courtesy of Santana, on the ridiculous cost of everything in Vegas, especially the price of her rooms mini-bar, by Brittany's return. She slid her hand into Santana's and smiled at the guard who's worried frown melted and he couldn't help but smile back.
"What's going on?" Brittany asked.
"This guy," Santana began.
"Joe," he interrupted, sticking his hand out to Brittany who shook it politely with a giggle.
"Was just telling me how much the tickets are. Five hundred bucks each!"
"Maybe I can see if I can get you some free ones," he mumbled, smiling goofily at Brittany. Santana's eyes narrowed.
"That'd be so cool," Brittany beamed obliviously back at him.
The fuck it would. "Did you see that?" Santana stared behind Joe with an alarmed expression on her face.
"What?" Brittany and Joe looked around.
"Someone just snuck into the stage area. Isn't it closed until the show? Aren't you supposed to be guarding it?"
"Oh crap, where did he go?" Joe started to panic. He unlocked the door to the showroom not realising no one could have gotten past him if it was locked, flung it open and entered the room while the girls followed him inside. "Where? Did you see where he went?"
"Over towards the stage," said Santana following him across the room. Joe and Brittany looked under tables and around the room for the mysterious intruder until eventually they all made it up to the stage.
"Must have been my imagination," Santana shrugged. "I'm sorry Joe, we're going to have to leave you here. Britt, tie him up."
"What?" Joe gasped in total confusion.
"I wants that poster," Santana hissed at him.
Brittany needed no further explanation as she went to work, the Britt-struck Joe finding himself helpless in front of her. She stood flush against him and he forgot all his training as she pulled down his jacket and tied his hands together with the sleeves. Within minutes he was stripped to his underwear and tied to the top of the grand piano.
"Later Joe," Santana called, as she walked away. "Nice Batman boxers. Keep your eyes to yourself in future." With that they strolled off, heading for the exit with a security key card and Brittany swinging his set of handcuffs from her fingers. Brittany turned and waved just before the door closed behind them and clicked locked.
"S, I've got a brilliant idea."
"Ha ha ha! Not as brilliant as mine," Santana cackled as she busily unlocked the display case and removed the Barbra Streisand poster. A clicking noise made her look down to find one ring of the handcuffs on her left wrist. Another click and the other half was locked onto Brittany's wrist.
"I lost you once, I don't want to do that again. So we can't lose each other."
Santana grinned widely at the sheer brilliance of that plan. Why hadn't she thought of it before? "You wont ever lose me."
"It's a good thing I peed before we put these on otherwise we'd be in trouble. Although the bathroom's are really nice. There's even carpet on the walls. And flowers. McKinley High could learn a lot. Principal Figgins should bring us here on a trip and we could remodel the school as a casino."
"We'll tell him when we get back," Santana nodded.
Four more cocktails later and they were in the elevator hugging bags of money. Brittany had insisted they change it to cash straight away so she could sleep on it without the chips digging in her side.
She was jumping up and down on the bed and Santana was in a state of money induced shock which involved hiccuping and then giggling loudly after each hiccup. "What's next? Shall we try a different casino? This one's easy," asked Brittany, using the bed as a trampoline. Santana threw bundles of notes at her and then joined in bouncing up and down letting the cash flutter about them. "Are they like computer games? Can we go up a level? Do they do that? Can we go to a medium level casino or a hard level one?"
Santana tired of jumping first and collapsed onto the bed, dragging Brittany down with her and pulling her into a giggly kiss. Rolling around on the mattress of money, a golden voucher caught Brittany's eye. "San, look!" Santana moaned as she broke off the kiss.
"Look," she persisted, waving the voucher "You know what would be really funny. Even funner than seeing Rachel's face when we show her the photo of us and our soon to be new bestie Barbra." She leaned closer and whispered into Santana's ear. A huge grin broke out over Santana's face and she laughed and hugged Brittany.
"Best idea ever! We'd really be bff's forever!"
"Yeah, and you'd definitely never lose me again. Anyway it's like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, one ticket in this whole pile of money. It's a sign," she nodded seriously to herself re-reading the voucher.
Minutes later, they could be found waiting for the elevator, trying to figure out how to function in handcuffs whilst giggling maniacally. The doors pinged open and their jaws dropped open at the sight that greeted them. Barbra Streisand was stood in the elevator along with a dark suited, crabby looking assistant jabbering away on a phone.
"Are you getting in or not?" Barbra asked, frowning at the two girls as they continued to stand and gape. Brittany dragged Santana inside and they stumbled on to the elevator with smile. Santana found herself unexpectedly starstruck and was relieved to let Brittany to do all the talking.
"We were going to crash your show just to make Rachel cry but we're busy tonight so sorry we cant come and see you," Brittany explained as though they had been friends forever.
"Hmm," Barbra made the non-committal noise eyeing up the excitable girls. "Who's Rachel, and why would you want to make her cry?"
"She's like the so-called leader of our school glee club."
"School?"
"School, college school," blurted Santana her cheeks turning a fierce red as she muttered. "It's fun. Brittany's the best dancer you've ever seen in your life." Brittany turned and smiled sweetly at Santana and kissed her hard on the lips. If possible, Santana blushed even redder. Brittany entwined their fingers together and turned back to Barbra.
"Rachel like, worships you. She'd die on the spot if she met you. She might actually wet herself if we had our photo taken with you. Can we?" She bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement.
"Only if you explain why it is you're handcuffed together," Barbra asked curiously, finding herself slightly fascinated by the two very odd girls she was sharing the elevator with.
"Oh, so we don't lose each other. We've had a couple of hiccups and this way we can't be parted."
"I see," she said, not seeing at all. "Why aren't you coming to my show?" Barbra asked, sounding a bit miffed that something was better than her show. "Busy doing what?"
"Crashing, we don't have tickets. And we're busy getting married."
"Aren't you a bit young to be getting married?" Barbra asked, kindly ignoring the crashing comment.
"Hmm, no. I knew we were going to get married since we were six but I just had to wait for San to catch up. You know what? You should totally come!"
"Pardon me?"
"To our wedding. We're going now, that's where we're going, right now." Santana nodded fervently in agreement. "We've got a voucher and everything. You could be a, a, a... whatsit called San?"
"Witness."
"Yeah," Brittany beamed. "A witness."
"I'm sorry girls. I'm due on stage in five minutes, I haven't the time to spare."
"That's the beauty of it. It only takes two minutes to get married. It's like getting a drive through wedding," Brittany insisted.
Ms Streisand's assistant put her hand over her phone for a moment and interrupted the madness. "I'm sorry Ms Streisand, there's been a delay with the stage. They're running thirty minutes behind. There's been an incident... with the piano."
"What sort of an incident?"
"There's a security guard tied to it in his underwear."
The girls tried not to catch each others eye and moved their hands around so the handcuffs were hidden from view. Santana snorted softly into Brittany's hair with poorly concealed laughter.
"Well, there you have it," Barbra shrugged. "You, my dear, are adorable," she smiled at Brittany and raised a hand to cup the girl's cheek while she grinned back. "I guess I would be honoured to come to your wedding."
Santana's jaw dropped. Seriously?
"Just so long as I'm back on stage in time."
"Ms Streisand!"
"Oh loosen up Hillary. I'd rather spend ten minutes with these girls, witnessing them getting happily married, than any more time spent with that awful perverted little casino owner droning on, talking absolute bull and drooling over me. Now that's settled, let's go."