Lopez Residence – Present day
Santana's parents and Brittany's mother stared at the two girls in slack jawed amazement. The story that had just been relayed to them, Brittany style with Santana clarifying when she got confused (quite often), was spectacular to say the least, and they were pretty certain parts of the story had been censored for their own protection. The girls had also managed to omit mention of anything starting with 'tatt' and ending with 'oo'. Santana was determined her parents wouldn't see any body art she may unknowingly be hosting before she did.
"Then what happened?" Dr Lopez voice rasped in his throat.
"We got back to the hotel and the power came back on and then there were green cocktails this time and... then it all goes blank. I don't remember anything past that, I swear," his wayward daughter insisted.
"Good God," he gasped in horror, as their story stuttered to a halt. "You two are not safe to be let out."
Santana gulped, what did that mean for them?
"But I suppose," he continued. "At least you made it home in one piece."
"Sure did," Brittany chirruped happily.
VEGAS PART 3
The morning after the night before...
A beam of sunlight crept across the room and landed on Santana's right eye savagely stabbing her with its blinding brightness. She tried to turn over but her left arm was trapped under a heavy weight. She opened her eyes to find out what was pinning her to the bed and panicked when she found she was blind in her left eye.
Holy fuck!
She ran her free arm across her face and felt around her left eye, ripping off, to her immense relief and total confusion, an eye patch.
Why? Where? Huh?
An unceasing thudding in the back of her head indicated the after effects of alcohol. She scanned the room. Her hotel room she recognised, Thank you God, and it was covered in money for some reason. Money which was fluttering in the breeze. The breeze from the great big gaping hole in the side of the building.
Where the hell was the window?
She tried to sit up but the weight was still holding her down. Her left arm led under a pile of pillows and blankets and wouldn't budge. She heard a moan as she tried to drag her arm out and the bedding began to move.
Please God, be Brittany. Please God, I'll be good. Please let it be Brittany.
The bedding fell to the floor with a thud, the person under it also hitting the floor pulling Santana along for the ride seeing how they were attached via handcuffs.
"Ouch!"
Santana found herself on top of Brittany (thank you God). They both stared at each other.
"S. Why are we dressed as pirates?"
"That's what you're worried about?" Santana croaked, using her voice for the first time that morning. "Why are we handcuffed together?"
They both watched in surprise as a fifty dollar bill fluttered to the ground beside them landing on a carpet of many, many, other fifty dollar bills.
"Is that real money?" Brittany whispered as though it would all disappear, much like the crazy ass dream she had just had. Marrying Santana indeed. Ha, like that would ever happen. Not until Santana got over her gay panic episodes. One day, far off in the future, maybe.
"What happened to the window?"
"Is that our money?"
"I think we need to leave." Santana's common sense began to sluggishly assert itself. "Before room service gets here. Or security. Or the management. Or the cops."
"What about the money?"
"They can use it to pay for the room. I'm not putting this on my credit card, my dad would actually physically kill me. Come on B. I only need my car keys. Where's the valet tag?"
"But where are our own clothes?" Brittany stared around the room more confused and bewildered than Santana had ever seen her. "Our bags have gone. I haven't got any shoes, only a cuttlefish."
"It's a cutlass babe."
"S, what's happened? What's going on?"
"We came to Vegas, I guess we saw Vegas and now... we're leaving."
They stepped out of the elevator and into the lobby momentarily taken aback to find steam billowing out of the designated 'Out of order' elevator next to theirs.
"Is it on fire?" Brittany asked a nearby bus boy with his sleeves rolled up.
"No," he explained, while running a curious eye over their strange piratical attire. "We had a complaint from a guest. Two girls were caught having sex in an elevator. They threatened to christen all of them so we have to steam clean each elevator in the hotel."
The girls exchanged a glance and backed away slowly.
"Most definitely time to go," Santana muttered, pulling Brittany with her.
Unknowingly imitating her reaction from the night before, Santana stopped suddenly as she peered into the display case which had previously held the Barbra poster.
"No freakin' way," she said in a hushed whisper. Brittany peered over her shoulder her eyes wide in horror as Santana cursed (much like a pirate). "A mime convention. What the fuck?"
"Let's get out of here," muttered Brittany, getting as close to Santana as she could, practically hugging her as she looked around nervously as though expecting an army of mimes to appear out of nowhere and pile on her.
"We could stay," offered Santana. "Get them all in one room lock them in and set fire to it?"
Brittany shook her head in misery. "They'd die in slow mo', without making any noise and doing weird twitchy hand movements." She shuddered.
"Okay babe, lets go." Santana said decisively seeing how upset Brittany was at the thought of mimes. She tried to lighten the mood. "You know what would be really funny, if it was a 'mine' convention and it blew up."
"I don't get it."
"You know mines, like bombs?"
"That's such a dorky joke."
Santana grinned. "If you wont let me fight a room full of mimes for you, and I totally would, then I'm gonna make dorky jokes."
"Okay," Brittany smiled into her shoulder hugging her left arm. "I wonder if our mime will be there and if he'd recognise us."
"I bet I could make him scream and break his vow of silence or whatever it is they do." Santana smirked, relishing the thought.
As they waited for the valet to bring the car they tried to look inconspicuous and innocent, which is incredibly difficult when dressed as pirates, bare foot and handcuffed.
"How am I going to drive when you're cuffed to my left hand?"
"You'll have to sit on my lap," Brittany smiled smugly.
"Oh yeah, the cops'll love that."
The car pulled up and they jumped in, the valet getting a shock as Brittany gave him a $200 tip, presumably to distract him as Santana sat on Brittany's lap and tried to drive. She began to drive precariously away not getting very far before both girls screamed as a body landed on the front of the car. They swerved wildly, running off the drive and into the front lawn of the hotel. They ploughed into a statue of some dead roman guy which wobbled precariously on the top of its plinth while wearing a suspiciously familiar looking long red coat and pirate hat.
"Jack, get off the fucking car." Santana yelled at the blonde haired security guard who had thrown himself onto the car in an attempt to stop them.
"Wait! I thought you'd want these, and my name is Joe." He climbed up onto his knees on the front of the car and handed the keys to the handcuffs over the wind-shield.
"Uh, thanks."
They quickly uncuffed each other and Santana started reversing back onto the drive. Shouting could be heard from the main entrance to the hotel and more security ran outside.
"Get off the car," Santana hissed at him.
Brittany grabbed him by his shirt pulled him into a kiss. "Thanks Joe," and as she shoved him off the car she grabbed his baseball cap with security printed on the front of it and sat it down firmly on her head as he helplessly rolled down a grass bank and into a pond.
"Are those our clothes?" Brittany asked, staring at the scattered articles of clothing she recognised over the excruciatingly manicured landscaped front of the hotel. She looked up and could see their room identifiable from all the other faceless monotonous hotel suites with a gaping hole edged with sharp glass shards.
Santana slammed her bare foot on the accelerator and they sped out onto the main road and headed away from Vegas as fast as legally possible.
Out on the highway and in the hot desert sun Brittany pulled off her pirate shirt revealing a tank top underneath. She leaned over and pulled off Santana's shirt revealing the same. She leaned over as close to Santana as she could and on her one shoulder was revealed a curved line with the letter 'S' next to it. As Santana leaned back into her, her tattoo was visible, a 'B' and a curved line. As their shoulders met the curves made up a whole heart shape and inside read 'S + B forever'.
Lopez residence
"So, where are we going for summer vacation?" Brittany asked Santana, oblivious to the shell shocked parental units still present in the room.
Dr Lopez snorted at the question and his wife had to nudge him sharply in the chest with her elbow. "They paid for it all themselves apart from the, ahem, wedding. Just let it go dear, it's all over now."
"Harrumph. I just, I can't..." he threw his hands up in the air and left the room shaking his head in despair. Santana watched him wide eyed.
"What does that mean?" Brittany whispered.
"I think we might be okay," Santana whispered back even though their mothers could hear them. "I bet he wishes he'd thought of it first." They giggled together, still ignorant of their mothers just silently absorbing everything they had just heard.
"Cool," grinned Brittany. "So I was thinking Disney World next time. Or Rio. They've got casinos. Or Reno, like the song."
"Reno?"
"I shot a man in Reno."
"NO!" shouted everyone including a voice from the next room.
McKinley High
A few weeks later Mr Schue walked into the music room with an envelope in his hands and held his hands up for the class's attention.
"Hey guy's. We've got sent a letter addressed to McKinley High Glee club from Vegas." A few people cast a quick glance to Brittany and Santana who were huddled together in the back row as usual.
"Who wants to open it?"
"I will!" Rachel chirped. "As Glee club co-captain it makes a certain amount of sense that I be the one to open any accolades we may receive." She jumped up and eagerly grabbed the envelope ignoring the "Shut up" from Puck and eye rolling from everyone else.
Santana nudged Brittany to pay attention and watch Rachel.
Her face froze in the cheery grin she was sporting, then her eyes glassed over with tears and a sob was rent from her lips. "How could you?" she waved a glossy photograph at the two Cheerios. "How could you?"
She threw the photo at Kurt and collapsed onto a chair on the front row sobbing while Finn tried to comfort her by patting her awkwardly on the shoulder.
Kurt picked up the photo and started gasping like a distressed goldfish, his mouth opening and closing, the only sound emitting was a snorting noise like an angry boar coming from his nose. Curious team mates crowded around the photo and Quinn sent the girls a smirk as she looked up to where Brittany was leaning back onto Santana with Santana's arm around her shoulder, happily watching the scene below.
In the photograph, Brittany and Santana stood with cocktail umbrellas in their hair, handcuffed together in a Vegas chapel, the King himself presiding over them, a big congratulations banner above them and Barbra Streisand with her arms around the two girls. It had been signed with the note.
'To Rachel and Kurt.
Greetings from Vegas.
Wish you were here.
Love Barbra.'
"What?" shrugged Santana, surveying the devastation before her. "I'm trying to be a nicer person." She tried to say it with sincerity but it didn't quite ring true. "I got you her autograph, didn't I?"
Rachel and Kurt sobbed on.
"Hey, there's a DVD in here," called Quinn opening her mouth and speaking before thinking it through, she was checking through the envelope in case they'd missed something else. "Vegas 2011, Santana and Brittany Lopez." She read aloud from the DVD case.
Harsh, brutal reality dawned on her like ice water down her back. Her head whipped up and she locked eyes with Santana like a deer caught in headlights. Santana's eyes narrowed dangerously and in a flash she was on her feet and running towards Quinn. With a scream Quinn ran out of the room and down the hallway, DVD in a vice like grip in her hand. She was determined to escape alive and with the DVD in her possession.
"Get back here tubbers!" Santana screamed, her resolution to be nice thrown immediately out of the window.
The End
for now
or is it
hmmm
disney world
…
;)