Note: Ah, just in time! This'll be my last post till sometime after xmas. I hope you enjoy it!
If there are any suggestions, things I can improve on or things you'd like to see just let me know and I'll see what I can do!
Once again, Merry Christmas!
Ch 5: Just Take the Money and Run
"Step-ball-change. Step. Ball. Change. Jesus, Finn. It's not that hard. You make it look like you're chasing after small children."
For some reason unbeknownst to her, God was trying to punish Santana.
While they waited for Mr Shue to arrive to properly start that afternoon's booty camp, Mike had put them in pairs- one good dancer with one more challenged dancer to practice what they'd learnt at the last lesson.
Santana's golden luck had gotten the most challenged of the them all. Finn in his too tight t-shirt that made his bare white arms look like uncooked sausages. Finn who used his feet like bricks and his limbs like heavy machinery. Finn who kept stepping on her toes.
"Oh for the love of…" she threw her hands up as pain shot up her foot. Her pinkie toe was throbbing in her sneaker and tears sprang to her eyes.
"Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry." Finn fussed around her.
"Move." She pushed him aside and wound her way through the other glee club pairings until she got to the back of the stage and perched on a spare chair someone had left there. Gingerly, she massaged her foot through her sneaker.
Nearby, Brittany stood in front of Puck. She counted and nodded her head with each number as she watched him go through the sequence of steps. She was a much better teacher than Santana, and her look of concentration- her puckered lips and slightly wrinkled forehead- was super cute.
"Puck you are getting really good at this!" She said brightly, nodding as Puck step-ball-changed in one fluid, easy motion.
"Tina, take off the hat," Quinn snapped from where she stood with Tina on the other side of Puck and Brittany. Tina had on a brown fluffy hat that looked to Santana like someone had scalped a bear and sold it to her. It was too big for Tina, drooping over her eyes so that she kept messing up her timing to push it back up.
"No….no…. Kurt…" Mike was at the very front of the stage, manhandling Kurt's jazz hands away.
"Jesus this glee club is in ruins," Santana muttered to herself, watching Mercedes hop around like a broken robotic dog.
"Okay, okay guys!" Mr Shue walked onto the stage, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. He had them line up and perform the Widow-Maker, their homework assignment. Santana had been able to do it since she was nine, but she knew for some of the other members it would take every nugget of their precious little brain power.
Mike and Mr Shue prowled between them, tapping out the people who did it right. Brittany was the first tapped. Then Quinn and Santana, followed by Tina. Brittany shot Santana a grin as they walked to the back of the stage together.
Santana could tell Mr Shue and Mike had taken pity on some of the others, settling simply for moves that didn't make them want to gouge their eyes out. At that lower standard, Kurt and Puck were tapped, leaving only Finn and Mercedes.
"This is embarrassing," Quinn muttered under her breath as Finn and Mercedes lumbered through the move again and again. Santana nodded at Quinn. Beside them, Brittany was frowning, her bottom lip pushed out.
"It's not very fair of Mr Shue to push Mercedes like that," she whispered. "She's not flexible enough to get the move right. She's like my Holiday Barbie who wouldn't bend her knees. I tried to get them to bend so much that I snapped off her legs. Then I had Paraplegic Barbie which wasn't okay because she didn't have a wheelchair and all my other Barbie's excluded her. Mercedes needs to keep her legs," She pouted.
Right on cue, Mercedes bent over, puffing. "My ankle hurts."
"See," muttered Brittany. "They'll break soon." Santana stifled a smile and tried to mirror Brittany's seriousness so that she felt better.
"Mercedes legs won't break, I promise."
"I don't feel so good," Mercedes moaned, doubled over and clutching her stomach. Santana and Quinn rolled their eyes to meet each other's, and Santana was reminded of the look she'd witnessed between Mercedes and Quinn the day before. She was relieved to be the participant rather than the subject this time.
"NO, I'M NOT FINE!"
They all jumped as Mercedes voice echoed through the auditorium.
"Oh Christ," Puck muttered. Everyone's eyes were on Mercedes, standing with her face like thunder, her hands on her hips. Mr Shue had his hands up and his voice low, appeasing. But Mercedes was on a roll.
"Everyone knows that Rachel is your favourite," she snapped, glaring at Mr Shue.
"That's not tr-"
"No, it is true! You give that skinny Geronimo-wearing ass kisser everything. And you know, for two years I took it! But not anymore. I'm done."
Santana couldn't watch any more. She dropped her eyes to the stage floor from sheer awkwardness. It was not only that Mercedes voice rang uncomfortably loudly in the silence, but also that Santana knew what she was saying was true, she'd said it to Mr Shue herself only a couple of days ago. It made Santana just as sick as Mercedes to see Rachel's baboon-ass ego become more and more inflamed with every solo that Mr Shue gave her.
And besides, where was Rachel? She should have been the one cleaning under Finns blubber rolls, and dodging his hooves, not Santana.
There was violent clash as Mercedes sent a music stand flying and spun on her heel, gesturing towards where Santana and the rest of the club stood.
"You know, I've out grown all of you."
"Mercedes…" Brittany started, her voice small. She stepped forwards, looking pained, but Mr Shue cut her off.
"Mercedes! You walk out that door and you're out of glee club." His eyes were wild like they had been in his office and Mercedes stopped in her tracks, her back to them.
"It's over then." She said. And walked out of the auditorium.
Beside her, Santana heard Brittany whimper. She reached out to her, linking their pinkies and tried to smile reassuringly. Finn hung his head in his hands and Tina started to blubber. Mike was at her side in an instant, kissing the tears off her cheeks.
Santana turned away, resisting the urge to vomit.
"Come on guys," Mr Shue's voice was hollow, but he mustered up the effort to clap his hands and look slightly purposeful.
"Mr Shue," Brittany put up a hand.
"Yes?"
"I was wondering if it would be okay if I left now because I'm sad. But I don't want to be kicked out of glee club." It would have sounded like a dig had it anyone else said it, but in Britt's shaky voice, with her doe-eyes and pinched lips, it was endearing.
At her words, Mr Shue's effort visibly deflated. He turned away from them and waved his hand.
"Booty camp is over for today. See you in the choir room tomorrow for practice."
/
"Come on guys, I know it seems bad, but it isn't the end of the world." Blaine flashed his personal Colgate-ad around the table at them. It gave Santana the urge to hit him but she sipped her coffee and settled for glaring instead.
"Who died and made you the single most annoying person in the world. Not Rachel, that's for sure," she snapped.
For not the first time that evening Santana wondered why she'd inflicted upon herself the hell of sitting at the Lima Bean with Finn, Rachel, Kurt, Blaine, and Tina. Brittany had said she'd join them after she'd bathed Lord Tubbington but they'd been here for long enough for Santana to use up all her patience and eat most of the brownie she'd brought for them to share and she still hadn't showed.
"How about," Kurt leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the table, "we organise a wee get together to really pull the loyal members of New Directions closer together. It could be like a-a-"
"A Broadway themed game of Cluedo?" Rachel asked her eyes as wet and wide as a hopeful puppy. Santana shot her the filthiest look she could muster.
"Or Scrabble! I'm not too picky!" Rachel said hurriedly, catching the look.
"Rach, no. No, no." Kurt placed a hand on her arm. "I was thinking, something like...A cocktail party!" He grinned around at them. "Everyone could make up their own cocktail and bring it for everyone to try. And we can have karaoke and nibbles and just have a good laugh together. No booty camp or battles for solos. Just us. Having fun." There was a pause where everyone considered. Santana's eyes drifted to the door.
"Well… I do like the idea of a get together…" Tina said slowly. "But...but…"Her voice wavered and then she wailed shrilly, "it just won't be the same without Mercedes!"
"Oh for the love of…" Santana had half risen from her chair when the doorbell clanged and Brittany swept into the Lima Bean. She'd changed out of her Cheerios uniform into a loose cream knitted sweater and jean shorts.
"Hey guys!" She said, brightly, spotting them and waving.
Santana watched Brittany approach- almost certain she was bringing the sun in tow.
"Oh," Britt stopped at the opposite end of the table from Santana as she registered Tina's hysterics. She bent down to her and tugged on one of the ears of Tina's bear hat. "Did you release that Winnie died so you could wear this?"
Tina looked up, sniffing. "W-what?"
"Ah actually Britt, we were just talking about having a cocktail party at my place to bring the New Directions closer together," Kurt said stiffly, eyeing the sobbing Tina like she was about to explode. Santana couldn't blame him, it all seemed a bit ridiculous.
"What, like, an orgy?" Brittany asked, swinging herself down into a chair beside Tina. Santana snorted and nearly choked on her coffee.
"Brittany, not every social event involving alcohol has to turn into a sex riot. Some of us have self-control." Rachel tsked. Brittany blinked at her.
"Um, excuse me?" Santana leant forward to eye Rachel. "That's rich coming from you Miss Get-Drunk-Off-Half-A-Wine-Cooler-And-Wet-Herself-Over-A-Kiss-With-A-Gay-Guy."
"That was one time!" Rachel snapped, going red. A few seats down Blaine turned to stare pointedly out the window. Kurt's laugh was high and forced.
"Who likes my cocktail idea?" He said, looking around eagerly. Finn, Rachel, Blaine and Brittany put up their hands. Tina just kept blubbering. Santana sighed and raised hers too.
"It's settled then!' Kurt clapped his hands. "I'll have to start planning tonight if we want this to happen on the weekend so unfortunately there won't be time for mailed invitations which I think are far classier than an invite over Facebook. However, sacrifices will be made for the sake of urgency."
Rachel piped up that she could supply the martini glasses- she had been given a whole set in her Christmas stocking from her Dads last year which had her face printed on them. Finn added that he could make grilled cheese for nibbles which earned him a withering look from Kurt.
As ideas were passed back and forth around the table, Santana's gaze wandered to where Brittany sat, following the conversation around her, laughing and nodding, while her hands idly played with an empty sugar sachet. Santana let her eyes linger idly across Brittany's face- a luxury she never usually allowed herself unless Brittany was asleep. But she felt bold because the rest of the table were too busy peeing themselves with excitement to notice and the way Brittany swept a hand through her loose hair, pushing it off her face, made Santana melt.
/
When the ideas for the cocktail party reached an inexcusable level of lameness, Santana slid back her chair and stood up.
"As much as this is just...thrilling, I have a wall of paint that I need to watch dry. I'll eagerly await my golden ticket to Kurt's Gayland on Facebook. Adiós." She wiggled her fingers at them and headed for the door.
She was halfway across the parking lot when she heard footsteps skittering across the concrete behind her.
"Santana, wait!" At Brittany's voice, Santana stilled and squeezed her eyes closed briefly. Then she turned and gave her a smile.
"Hey Britt Britt. You want a ride home?" Brittany shook her head.
"No, I can't go home."
"Why not?" Santana frowned.
"Because I used up all of Mom's special anti-aging shampoo on Lord Tubbington and she yelled at me."
Santana stopped laughing when she caught Brittany pursing her lips together and twisting them to the side in guilt.
"Aw, I'm sure she'll get over it. Wanna come stay at mine tonight? I've still got your Sweet Valley High DVDs." She tried to keep her tone casual, but for some reason she couldn't look at Brittany's face.
"Oh! I was wondering where those had gone, I was going to ask Mrs Higgins next door if she'd stolen them like she steals coupons from our mail box. And sure, I'd love to come over."
They walked together to Santana's car and Santana felt the evening around her open up and flood with possibilities. Everything from the inky doodles on Brittany's hands to the half-undone laces of her chucks made Santana grin giddily. She shook herself. What was wrong with her today?
"Wait." Brittany had fallen behind Santana, her eyes narrowed.
"How far ahead of me are you on Sweet Valley High?"
Santana knew she was crazy for noticing it, but the evening sunlight lit Brittany's hair all shades of gold and made her eyes a brilliant blue. Before she could stop herself, Santana had stepped forward and threaded her finger through one of the belt loops of Brittany's shorts, pulling her forward until their hips were pressed against one another.
"Not a single minute," she said softly.
"Ladies!"
It was almost a repeat of the locker room incident. Santana jerked Brittany away, her cheeks on fire as Rachel trotted across the car park toward them. She had a paper napkin in each hand, extending one to Brittany and one to Santana but her arms dropped as her eyes swept over them- almost as calculating as Quinn's had been the day before.
Santana felt her heart rate quicken. This was a freaking repeat of the locker rooms. Why did she have to be so careless? It was as though whenever she was around Brittany she developed a weird form of Romance- Tourette's. God knows she would rather have the kind where people swore randomly and twitched- that was just the average conversation at a Lopez family gathering- instead of these fits of sentimentality that randomly burst forth in the worst and most public of places.
Brittany was peering at the napkin, oblivious to Rachel staring at them.
"You wrote my name wrong," she said, pointing to the napkin in Rachel's left hand. Rachel started and looked blearily down to where Brittany was pointing.
"Huh? Oh! Oh, the to-do list!" Santana was more than relieved as Rachel snapped back into business mode. "And no, I didn't spell your name wrong." She turned the napkin to face her, frowning down at it.
"You're supposed to address me as Miss President."
"Right. Well, for the sake of fairness to Kurt, I'll refrain from calling either of you Miss President until the election is over."
"As far as I'm concerned it's already over," Santana said. Rachel ignored her, thrusting the napkins towards them once again. Santana took hers and held it gingerly by its edges.
"It stinks of you Berry," she sniffed.
"They're hastily composed because we wanted everyone organised tonight so we had to hurry to catch you guys."
Santana looked at her list. "Chic decorations?"
"Hey! Mine says that too," Brittany jabbed a finger at her own napkin.
"Y-yes, we tried to give all the couples the same tasks so that-" Santana stiffened, her muscles clenching in shock.
"Are you effing serious?" She cut angrily across Rachel, stepping closer and dropping the napkin at Rachel's feet. "You know, I would punch you in the face if I had conclusive proof your nose wasn't the thing actually responsible for sinking the Titanic. I'd prefer for my fist not to join it at the bottom of the Atlantic."
"What? why?" Rachel spluttered. "I-I didn't mean to…offend you or anything San-"
"Didn't mean - hah," Santana threw her head back, strangled sarcastic laughter leaving her throat. Beside her, Brittany was silent, her eyes on her napkin.
"Get your Furby army to do your dirty work Rachel, not me. I haven't even decided if I can stomach even attending this ridiculous cocktail party, let alone run around looking for decorations to make Hummel's room anymore fag-tastic than it already is."
"Santana," Brittany murmured warningly. Rachel's briskness had fallen and she looked almost as scared as she had when Santana had gone all Lima Heights Adjacent in her face after Nationals.
Santana glared at her for one more beat and then spun on her heel, unlocking her car and sliding into her seat. Almost shaking with rage, she jammed the key and wrenched the car to life, backing out of the car park. Brittany was still standing with Rachel and they both were looking at Santana, shocked. Santana jabbed a button on her car door handle and wound down the front passenger window.
"Are you in or out Brittany?" She snapped. Brittany jumped and nodded hastily- which didn't even answer Santana's question- but she waited anyway, her hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel and her blood beating hard in her eardrums. Out of the corner of her eye, Santana saw Brittany bend down and pick up Santana's napkin, say something to Rachel and then she headed towards the car.
She slid into the seat next to Santana and sat quietly, her hands folded around the napkins as Santana revved them angrily out of the car park.
It wasn't until they pulled to a stop at some red lights that she stole a glance at Brittany.
"Sorry if I scared you back there Britt."
Brittany shrugged. "I just didn't like that you said that thing about Kurt. He's worked so hard to grow his horn and it's not nice to tease him about it."
"I didn't say anything about Kurt."
"Yahuh. You said his room was fag-tastic. Which is a mean word. And a bit silly seeing as your room just as lez-tastic."
Santana snorted. "Lez-tastic? What on earth makes my room look lez-tastic?"
"The fact that it's your room. Duh," Brittany said. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look, all I'm trying to say is that, you are who you are and your room reflects that. Since you're a lesbian-"
"Britt-" Santana flinched.
"...your room is lez-tastic. And there isn't anything wrong with that Santana, just like there isn't anything wrong with Kurt's room."
"I know," Santana sighed. "I was just angry at Man-Hands for assuming… assuming..." Santana's voice was chased way by tears and she broke off, shaking her head.
"I know San," Britt said gently.
"I'm not ready to be okay with people just assuming…" She stuttered, trying to make sense of how she felt. She could feel tears of frustration burn the back of her eyes until she could barely see the road.
"Shh, it's okay. We don't have to make decorations together or anything. We don't even have to go to the party at all if you don't want to."
Silently, Santana reached across to Brittany's lap. Brittany freed her hands from the napkins and held one palm up. Gratefully, Santana knotted their fingers together and squeezed, hoping that the sheer pressure would let Brittany know all the things Santana couldn't say out loud.