Here's the chapter corresponding to the Michael episode- 3x11.
Thank you all for the continued interest! :) As always, you guys are the best ever.
And I actually have a favor to ask those of you who know stuff about Latin/Spanish culture in America or speak Spanish- I'm gonna need your help for the next chapter!
Sooo. If anyone is interested just PM me. I basically am just looking for a few people who would be willing to answer any questions that come up as I write the chapter- because I want to stay as authentic as possible to Santana's experience and...to be honest...I'm like lower than Mr Schue on the Spanish ignorance scale coz NZ doesn't have much to offer in the way of Spanish culture.
Thanks in advance and now I'll let you get on to reading :)
Hope you enjoy it!
Ch 19: Neverland
The cuffs on Santana's leather jacket were clenching so tightly around her wrists that she could feel her skin raw growing irritated and raw.
The car park around her smelt like dampness and car fumes.
And...
Artie kept quoting Henry Ford western movies.
But none of these things could take the edge off the adrenalin threading through her veins.
The swell of emptiness and the shadows and the flickering overhead light at the far end of the car park all added to the tension. And, even through Santana knew they had at least twenty minutes before the Warblers were due to arrive, she kept straining her ears for a change in the calm of the dark space- for the skid of a foot on concrete, or hushed voices.
"Okay, okay everyone. How's everyone feeling?" Blaine asked, rubbing his hands together and shooting a grin around at them.
"I need to pee," Rory said.
"It's kind of chilly in here," Tina added, rubbing her arms.
Santana pulled her eyes away from monitoring the entrance ramp and rolled them towards Rory and Tina.
"You both need to harden up and quit complaining. This is us against them. And if we want to do Michael for Regionals then we have to bring Bad harder than they can."
"Already brung," Puck quipped, jerking his hips forwards.
Everyone rolled their eyes away from him.
"Bad being the operative word there," muttered Quinn.
"Okay, okay guys." Finn stepped up and turned to face them, clapping his hands. The sound echoed disconcertingly loudly around the car park and Santana saw Brittany jump in fright, peering up at the ceiling, looking for the source of the noise.
"We gotta do something to get us pumped for this. Like really…" Finn shook his fists, "really pumped."
"We could run laps?" Sam suggested, "like warming up for football?"
Santana had heard enough. She snorted and shook her head then took a step up beside Finn.
"Go back…just...go on…" She muttered to him, nudging him to fall back into the group.
She signalled to Kurt and Blaine to come and take his place up beside her.
"Alright. This is how it gon be," she flicked her hands out, her eyes roaming around the others. "While I do agree that Mr Potato Head and Super Sport Ken have a point about getting pumped- I don't think getting tired and sweaty is going to help us in a sing off. Doing Michael isn't anything like playing football- except for the slightly homoerotic outfits. It's going to require some serious angst. Hence why I've nominated us three," she motioned to herself, Kurt and Blaine, "to run this thing. Seeing as we have the most reason to want to place that Sebastian dude's cheek against the concrete and enjoy the satisfying sound of his nose meeting the steel cap of a boot, I think it's fair for us to take the solos. "
"Oh, oh. No. No, no." Kurt held up his hands, pulling his mouth to the side and wincing. "Santana, while I just adore the leather get-up I-I just really shouldn't take the lead in this. I have an allergic reaction to confrontation which makes me cry and I can't multi-task tears and fierce very well."
"Well...alright." Santana travelled her eyes over the others. "Anyone else want to lead the Bad-assery with Blaine and I?"
There was a small beat for silence and then Artie's wheels flashed through the shadowy space as he rolled himself forwards, one leather gloved hand raised in the air.
"Me," he said quietly.
Santana knew not to ask why. She just nodded and smirked as he settled into place on her other side.
"Good. So. Let's discuss how exactly we get our Bad on…"
"Wait! Also!" Rachel rushed forwards, stopping right in front of Santana and swivelling around the rest of them. "Before we get into all that stuff we need….vocal warm ups!" She announced enthusiastically. "Now, I'll lead us through so on my count…a three, two, one…"
While Rachel led them up and down the scale, Santana took the opportunity to glance over at Brittany who was standing between Mike and Puck.
She was only half-heartedly singing and her eyebrows were squiggled with worry.
Abandoning the scale, Santana veered around the others and tugged her back a few paces.
"What's wrong?" She ducked head to catch Brittany's gaze in her own.
Brittany jerked her shoulders up and down and then swung a nervous glance around the car park.
"Did you ever see the Indian in the Cupboard?"
"The movie?"
"Yeah. And you know how he puts his little toy Indian man inside it and leaves him over night and when he opens it in the morning the Indian is alive?"
"Uh...yeah," Santana tilted her head to the side in confusion.
Brittany shrugged again. "After that I don't really trust dark places where you keep things over night."
"Hey now," Santana pouted. "That doesn't sound to me like you're thinking with your MJ attitude."
Brittany looked sheepish. "No, guess I'm not."
"No, you aren't. Because Britt, if you were, you'd remember that nothing in this car park is as scary as Finn in that leather jacket." She jerked her head behind her and pulled a face. Brittany give a small, reluctant chuckle.
"So, stop worrying about the cars coming to life and start thinking about how Michael would challenge the Warblers, okay?"
Brittany nodded slowly, her mouth squirming to the side as she considered.
"Well...seeing as he lived in Neverland he'd probably say what Peter Pan said to Captain Hook- that he'd fight them "man-to-man, with one hand behind my back.""
Santana beamed and tilted her head, reaching out to tug on the sleeve of Brittany's jacket.
"And," she pointed out, "with you in leather, bringing your Bad, we'll beat them with both hands behind our backs."
Brittany's smile glanced as brightly around the car park as Artie's wheel lights had. She threw herself forward into Santana, pulling their bodies together hard.
"Tonight," she murmured in Santana's ear, "you're going to be my Peter Pan."
"You two! Hey, you two! This is really no time for little love trysts in the dark!" Santana cringed at the sound of Rachel's voice and disengaged from Brittany.
"Lower your voice Berry. You're giving the children in the neighbourhood terrible nightmares of shrill, over-controlling clown dolls."
"Very funny Santana," Rachel snapped sarcastically. "This just isn't the time for…"
Santana froze and held up a hand, jerking her head around to the entrance. She'd caught the sound of footsteps, the low vibration of voices.
"They're coming," she mouthed- gesturing wildly to the far wall, slanted in darkness by a nearby light where everyone but she and Blaine were supposed to wait.
They slunk quickly away towards it as she and Blaine headed to the nearest concrete post and leant against it together. Everyone was silent, all breath baited in throats while they listened to the sound of the Warblers coming farther down the ramp.
Santana glanced over her shoulder at Blaine.
"You good?" She muttered. Blaine had his eyes fixed on the Warblers shadows that were warping on the wall of the car park.
"Uh-huh," he said through gritted teeth.
"Good. Oh and," she turned back to him. "Just by the way, I dibs doing the finger flick."
When Finn's Mom handed Santana her hot chocolate, she did it smiling warmly into her face. It only made Santana feel worse and she dropped her gaze, trying not to think about the fact that she'd taken this lady's son's virginity. Or that it had been right up there in the list of things that had scarred Santana for life.
"Thanks," she muttered, when Carole had moved passed her.
"Aw, thanks Mrs H," Brittany smiled, taking her own hot chocolate and handling the situation much than Santana had.
She was the one all the parents liked.
Every seat in Finn and Kurt's living room was taken up by the New Directions. Mercedes, Tina, Mike and Rory were haphazardly piled on one couch. Quinn was squeezed between Puck and Sam on another. Santana and Brittany had an armchair to share and Artie had wheeled his chair beside them. Finn, Rachel and Mr Hummel had pulled some of the dining table chairs over.
No one seemed to want their hot chocolates, except Brittany who kept pushing her finger against the mini marshmallows floating on top- making them bob up and down.
Santana sank further back in the chair and cupped her palms around the mug, letting the heat wash up her body.
Finn was giving Mr Hummel a play-by-play of what had happened in the car park- right through till Rachel called the police and Kurt drove Blaine to the hospital.
"It all just… happened so fast," Finn said in disbelief. "Like one minute we're singing Bad right up in one another's faces and then Blaine is screaming on the floor in a pool of slushy."
"It all happened in the blink of an eye," Rachel added grimly, staring into space.
Santana fought a grin at the irony and snuck a glance around at the others to see if anyone else was as horrible as her. She was comforted when she noticed Puck and Quinn staring pointedly in different directions, both their mouths twitching.
"What the hell could he have put in that slushy though?" Mercedes asked.
"Maybe he got frost bite," Brittany suggested, licking melted marshmallow off her finger.
"What if...What if he goes blind?" Finn muttered, his voice wavering. Santana looked over in alarm to see him with his head bent and his ears red. Rachel was clutching one of his hands and Mr Hummel clamped a hand on his back.
"We won't know till we know," he said gruffly. "But Blaine's lucky to have so many people who care about him and who will support him. And that's what counts okay?"
Santana dropped her eyes from Finn and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She felt shit for Blaine, sure, but how bad could someone get hurt from a slushy?
She tried to distract herself from the twisting in her stomach by looking over to watch Brittany play with her hot chocolate but she saw that Britt had lowered her mug to her lap and was staring at Finn with her eyes glittering and her mouth wobbling in tears. Santana's stomach twisted even more.
Everyone fell silent after that. Burt put the TV on low so that at least they'd have something to look at. Santana stared blankly at it while the commercials rolled.
They all jumped when Finn's phone lit up and began to ring on the coffee table. With lightening reflexes that Santana could have sworn he'd never used during his whole football career, Finn snatched the phone off the table and stared down at the screen.
"It's Kurt," he said dumbly.
"Answer!" Rachel flapped her hands at him.
"Huh?" Finn started. "Oh, right, yeah. Hell- hello? Kurt? Hey...yeah what's… how is he?"
Everyone watched Finn take in Kurt's end of the conversation.
"Okay...uh...yeah." Finn brought a hand to his mouth and pinched his lips between his fingers. "Okay, I'll tell them. Hang in there okay? I'll pass you to Burt…"
Mr Hummel took the phone and left the room while Finn turned to them.
"Kurt said it's pretty serious but no one can tell them yet what exactly is wrong. They have to wait and do some special eye test thingy in the morning. And he said thanks for sticking around but he's going to ask Burt if he can stay at the hospital overnight so you guys don't have to stay and be tired for school tomorrow."
Everyone unfolded themselves from their seats and filed into the kitchen to return their mugs. Carole wouldn't let any of them help her wash them up so it left them with nothing else to do but head to the front door- sorting out who would ride with who.
"You'll text us if there is any change, right?" Tina asked asked Finn as they trailed out onto his front lawn.
"Yeah, of course," Finn nodded from the door frame.
Santana and Britt were halfway down the path when Brittany tugged her hand out of Santana's.
"Wait a moment," She said, threaded her way back between Mike, Artie, Quinn and Rory to approach Finn. Santana looked back and watched Brittany stand on her tip toes and put her arms around Finn's neck.
"That's for you to give to Kurt," Santana heard her say. "Tell him that unicorn tears don't heal people like Phoenix tears do so he shouldn't cry but just be brave because he's really good at that."
Finn gave a small laugh and smiled glumly at her. "I'll be sure to pass that all on, Britt."
The drive back to Brittany's place was a quiet one. Santana guessed that like her, Brittany and Rory were still wondering what the hell could have happened to Blaine. Their Bad plan had backfired- that was for sure.
She and Britt said good night to Rory and Brittany flicked the hall light on so he could find his way down to his bedroom. Once he disappeared inside she flicked it off again.
They stood together in the dark for a moment and then Brittany moved up closer to Santana.
Santana reached out and tucked a loose bit of hair off Brittany's cheek.
"Tired?" She asked in a whisper.
"Not really."
"Me neither," admitted Santana. She felt too wired to sleep. "Wanna watch a movie?"
Brittany nodded, her expression brightening slightly.
"Alright, go pick one," Santana said, stepping back and nudging her towards the lounge.
Brittany disappeared through the door and Santana heard a couple of bumps and creaks before she reappeared- holding up a Meet the Parents DVD. Santana reached out for it.
"I forgot where the light switch was so I had to feel around the DVD rack and I just grabbed this."
"It's fine," Santana said, looking in surprise at the preview pictures on the back cover. Ben Stiller looked young.
While Brittany went to make herself a comfort bowl of Lucky Charms in the kitchen, Santana headed upstairs and got into Brittany's bed- pulling her computer onto her lap and starting up the DVD.
Santana's attention drifted away from the laptop- which refused, no matter how hard she jammed the 'skip' button, to fast forward through the ten year old 'new release' previews- and swept around Brittany's bedroom.
Santana loved Brittany's room.
She loved how Brittany's childhood was still cluttered on her bookshelf- her collection of Babysitters-Club books, her baby bunny ornaments, her soft toys. The little ceramic jar with a fairy on top where all her baby teeth were kept, a brick that Brittany had painted on the side of when she was 7- a sunset, a flower, a dog and a big, pink 'B'.
Santana also loved the way that the grown up Brittany spilt out of her closet and dresser drawers- the short dresses, the lacy underwear, the discarded high heels and perfume and make up.
It was like Brittany had never had that big clean out that every other kid did. Th one that came one summer when they hit puberty decided to change their bedroom to reflect their newly sophisticated tastes- like alcohol and pop-punk boy bands.
But Brittany's bedroom, like Brittany herself, was a tangle of the best bits of childhood and maturity.
Santana was in the process of bringing her eyes back to the laptop when a change in Brittany's photo wall caught her eye.
It was only a slight adjustment, but if you were Santana- who had analysed the Santana:Everybody Else photo ratio on that wall more times that she cared to count- it was a change you didn't miss.
The photo of Britt and her sister dressed up as clowns had been unstuck and moved over to the right. While the photo beside it- of Britt, Tina and Quinn dressed up in their Rocky Horror costumes- had been moved to the left.
In the space created between the two photos Brittany had stuck a new one.
Britt had asked the waitress who'd just delivered their drinks to take that photo. Santana had hardly realised what was happening until Brittany had looped her arms around her neck and tugged her away from the straw of her coke to look at the lens.
Santana remembered rolling her eyes and making a fuss. She remembered Brittany ignoring her and pressing leaning over to press her lips hard against Santana's cheek.
And it had been at that moment that the flash ricocheted around the table.
Santana had glanced briefly at the preview of the photo when Brittany got the camera back. She'd tossed her head and gone back to her coke- disgusted at how chubby her face looked all squished up.
But seeing it up on Brittany's wall- considering it longer- Santana began to understand why Brittany liked it so much.
In it, Brittany had her eyes closed, smiling through the kiss she was stamping on Santana's face.
But her smile was nothing on Santana's who was grinning so hard at the camera that her her eyes were scrunched in her cheeks. They were lit up and sparking.
Santana could recall the feeling of Brittany's laughter humming through her lips onto Santana's cheek, the soft wave of her perfume that had crested over. Santana remembered feeling love pressed hard up against her chest. Santana remembered wanting to turn her face and meet Brittany's lips with her own
And her face in the picture gave all that away. That's what Brittany must see- it was so glaringly obvious.
Because the moment when the picture was taken had been upon them and then over so quickly, Santana hadn't had time to notice how Blaine and Kurt had posed on the other side of the table.
But with that moment frozen before her now, Santana turned her eyes to take them in. They were both grinning at the camera- looking far more composed than Brittany or Santana.
Their hands were clasped together on the table top- between their drinks. They were both white knuckled from holding on so tight.
Slowly, Santana switched her gaze back and forth between she and Brittany and then Kurt and Blaine. In a different way, Kurt and Blaine's faces said everything Santana's did.
They all looked like they were right where they were supposed to be.
A lump was beginning to tighten itself in the back of Santana's throat- which she realised had been building since Finn's house. She looked at the picture of the four of them for so long it went sort of fuzzy from her tears.
Tears?
Santana shook her head and scrubbed her fist against her eyes.
She didn't even know what had made her cry.
Blaine would be fine, and she didn't think she'd even cared this much about him.
As for the photo- it wasn't like looking at it had brought bad memories. She'd enjoyed that double-date- even if Brittany would have to pin her down and tickle her senseless to get her to admit to it.
Santana looked up at the sound of the door edging open and watched Brittany slip inside.
She'd changed into loose grey sweat pants, a white tank and blue and purple fluffy socks, washed her make-up off and scooped her hair into a low, loose pony tail.
She tightroped walked across the room to the bed- her eyebrows furrowed low on her forehead as she concentrated on balancing her cereal bowl and two glasses of orange juice .
Santana trailed her eyes over all of Brittany- trying to pick out what it was about her that had suddenly eased all the heaviness in her chest.
"Juice?" Brittany's voice made Santana start. She drew her eyes up to the glass that Brittany was extending to her.
"Thanks." Santana put it down on the bedside table and pulled back the blankets for Brittany to slide underneath.
She waited until Brittany had settled into the pillows and was halfway through her first spoonful of Lucky Charms before Santana told her that she loved her.
Brittany didn't even wait to swallow before telling Santana she loved her back.
Santana had never told anyone, but before Quinn Fabray had gone and gotten herself pregnant, she had been Santana's idea of perfect.
She had been everything Santana wished she was.
Santana had wanted to be like Quinn so badly that she had begun to hate herself because she wasn't.
She had been fascinating- sweeping in from God knows where and having McKinley bowed down and trembling at her feet in all of five minutes.
It seemed to Santana that Quinn had her own centre of gravity- like she was some kind of sun that burnt and blistered and exerted such force that you couldn't help but spin around her.
And as hard as Santana tried, she just wasn't quite as bright.
Santana had to flick up the hem of her skirt up and grant below the bra access to get even half the guys that Quinn had to obsess over her. And all Quinn had to do was flick her eyes away from them and finger the cross on her necklace.
Of course, watching Quinn get pregnant and out-crazy everyone just to regain some of her control had put Santana off wanting to be like her. It had put her off to the point that she actually wanted to vomit a little every time she remembered.
And the last thing Santana ever expected was to feel that way about Quinn again.
But sitting in the choir room, it came back so hard that Santana felt like she'd been cracked across the back of her head with a baseball bat.
"I, I got into Yale."
And blindly, Santana was smiling. She was smiling so hard she thought her face would split in half. And she was the first out of her seat, the first to Quinn's side, the first with their arms around her and the last to let go.
But the whole time, she couldn't really breathe. She couldn't really hear through the blood rushing past her ears.
"Yale! Yale! Yale, Yale Yale!" Mercedes and Brittany were chanting and clutching onto Quinn's arm- pulling her out of the choir room and down the hallway.
"Celebratory coffee at Lima Bean! My shout!" Tina exclaimed, skipping after them, tugging Santana along too.
Then, just as they reached the double doors, Santana felt like she might be sick.
She halted so quickly that her sneaker squeaked against the linoleum and everyone turned to look at her.
"I've got to go...I've just remembered… I have to talk to Coach…" She stumbled vaguely over her words. "I'll just- I'll meet you there soon."
She summoned up her best grin, tossed it at their feet, and turned to walk back down the hall.
As the sound of the others chanting and laughing echoed away, Santana lost her momentum and stopped. She stood there, alone in the hallway- breathing like she'd just lost a running race.
College was the road that you automatically placed yourself on. It was supposed to be the most obvious transition from school.
But no one- no one with jobs or money or actual grown up lives- warned you about what it felt like to move further into the world. No one ever mentioned the massive brick wall made of GPAs and open days and applications and scholarships and expectations that towered above you.
Santana had just slammed smack bang into it.
She felt hot panic blooming in her chest and the strangled beginnings of sobs. Taking a stoic breath, she pushed herself onwards down the hall- not really knowing where she was going.
It was a pamphlet stand outside Miss Pillsbury's office that she smacked into next- walking with her head down. The force made one whole rack shudder and drop to the floor- spilling a stack of identical white pamphlets all over the floor at her feet.
"Fuck."
Santana bent down and began shoving them messily back into a pile and pushed them back into a free slot on the stand. It when she pulled her hands away from them that she noticed their front covers.
The top half was covered in a picture of a cartoon homeless man huddling underneath a bridge. Underneath it, the caption blared: 'Or...there's college!'
Santana stared at it and then reached and slipped one out of the rack, turning it over to look at the back page which was covered in bullet pointed paragraphs that Santana felt too overwhelmed to read.
She looked into Miss Pillsbury's empty office and noticed a wooden box hooked onto the front of the door. The bright, printed sign tacked above it read 'Appointment Requests'. Beside the box was a neat stack of small blue cards.
Santana picked one up and frowned down at it.
Name:
Preferred date and time:
Subject of Appointment:
Santana raised her eyes and stared blankly at her own faint reflection in the glass.
Then, with precision that she knew would have impressed Miss Pillsbury, Santana folded the pamphlet and the little blue card over and over again into one another- until they were one thick, tight wad. She shoved them deep into the pocket of her Cheerios jacket and carried on down the hall.
She had intended on posting it. That was why when she got home she'd unrolled the blue card from the pamphlet, flattened it and filled it in. That was why she'd written down a list of questions to ask Miss P on the back page of her history homework. That was why she had been walking down the corridor in the first place- heading to Miss P's office to put it in the stupid slot.
But if she had really intended on making an appointment, why had she thrown herself head first into Kurt's deppresso about Blaine?
She'd stopped when she'd seen him alone in the class- looking like he was about to start weeping- but that was because she wasn't a complete heartless robot.
Wasn't it?
But what had possessed her to take the plans for revenge so completely off Kurt's hands?
Sure, Santana enjoyed completely decimating someone's sense of self-worth as much as the next person- but that didn't explain why, on her way out of the class room, she'd pulled out the blue paper slip from her jacket pocket and tossed it in the trash.
She said goodbye to Kurt and hung a sharp left down another corridor- walking with her eyes trained pointedly forwards as she passed Miss P's office- as though if she looked over she'd see all the little homeless men on the pamphlet rack judging her.
She could see Artie up ahead, leaning into his locker.
"Hey," she said when she stopped in front of him.
Artie jerked his head back and swivelled his chair around, looking horror struck.
When he caught sight of Santana, his expression lightened.
"Oh-thank-god." He pressed a gloved hand to his chest. "I thought you were Becky."
Santana raised her eye brows, bristling.
"You thought I was…" she shook herself. "Okay, imma let that one slide but only because you might actually be useful to me for once in your life. "
Artie huffed a sigh and shook his head.
"Santana, we've been through this. It's illegal for me to give you a copy of my disabled parking pass."
"And while I still think that stands as solid proof of your lameness, it's not what I need you for."
Artie frowned up at her. "It's- it's not?"
"Nope." Santana crouched down in front of his chair and lowered her voice. "Now, keep calm and not jizz your adult diaper while I tell you this... I need you for a wee spy mission on that little creepy weed Sebsatian."
"My chair creaks,"Artie said, shaking his head. "I'm not your man."
Santana laughed. "No, no. I'm the one who is going to be going into the field. You're just going to be...like the awesome fat techcy guy in action movies that lives with their Mom and supplies the hero with all their gadgets."
"Uh-" Artie looked sceptical.
"Look, after me, you're the most MJ of anyone in the glee club. You get what he's about and can actually sing his songs without making them sound like something off Singin' in the Rain like Blaine and Rachel."
This brought a small smile to his lips, and he travelled his eyes over her face.
"I do bring the King," he said softly. "Alright. I'll do...Wait...what do you want me to do?"
Santana smirked and stood up, heading off down the hall.
"Roll with me this way," she called over her shoulder, "and I'll explain."
Santana decided during her awkward walk down the path to the Dalton Academy car park, that the last thing that had felt this awful between her legs had been Puck's tongue. Sebastian had hurled the slushy at her neck and face- yet somehow it managed to slip its way down her body and pool in her underwear and around her thighs.
That, however, was the least of her worries. The slushy had also slid deftly inside her bra and coated the tape-recorder.
Even though she'd torn the tape away and pulled it out from under her boob the minute the Warblers left, and tried her best to wipe it down, the syrup was starting to congeal around the buttons.
She hadn't been able to get it to play back yet, but figured she better just keep it safe from anymore damage as she walked- so she slipped it into the dry pocket of her blazer and looked up ahead to the car park she came to the end of the walk way.
From the shadowy corner where her car was, Santana heard a metallic thud of a car door and hurried footsteps. Santana squinted and saw Brittany jogging over to her, her features taunt in worry.
"It's slushy! It's just slushy!" Santana called, motioning at her chest.
"You look like...I thought you were bleeding!" Brittany exclaimed as she came to a halt in front of Santana, inspecting her carefully."It's just slushy?" She ducked her head to Santana's eyes. "You sure? Can you see okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. They just got me with a regular slushy."
Brittany's expression dipped from anxiety to anger.
"I can't believe they did that. Who the hell...Did you go all Lima Heights?"
"Well I'd just destroyed Sebastian in sing-off of Smooth Criminal so I think that counts. Plus," she fished the recorder out of her pocket and waved it back and forth in Brittany's eye line, "I got him to tell me what he put in Blaine's slushy."
Brittany's eyes widened. "You did?"
"Uh-huh. Rock salt. Hopefully this thing still works so that we can actually prove it," She said, trying to rub more of the wetness off it and then stabbing the 'rewind' button.
Relief flooded through her as the tape warbled backwards and then, when she hit play, the sound of her raised voice rattled the small speaker.
"I was better, now, tell me the truth. What did you put in that slushy?"
"Rock salt. But it's okay…"
Santana hit stop and was ready to look up triumphantly at Brittany when suddenly her body was jerked backwards as Brittany launched herself towards her.
"Babe," Santana laughed, taking steps back and trying to struggle out of the hug. "You'll get slushy all over you."
"So?" Brittany pulled her face back from over Santana's shoulder and kissed her on her sticky mouth.
Laughing beneath Brittany's lips, Santana kissed back- still trying to lever her wet front away from Brittany's.
But Britt wasn't having a bar of it- she rolled her body harder against Santana- both hands cupped around her cheeks, tilting Santana's face so that she could slide her tongue deeper into her mouth.
"Mmm," Brittany said after a few breathless moments, pulling away and smacking her lips.
"It was cherry flavour- my favourite."
Santana laughed again and then bumped her hip against Brittany's- shunting her towards the car.
"Come on. Home. I'm packing an iceberg in my undies."
Santana's parents were both home when they arrived back- which meant the bath with Santana that Brittany had been amping for the whole car ride home was a no-go. Instead, Santana had to go solo in the shower to discover all the places the slushy had crept to.
She turned the nozzle hot, cleaned herself off and then stood under it for longer than she needed to- enjoying the feeling of the tension ebbing from her muscles and being replaced by a new swell of anticipation from knowing that Brittany would be waiting in bed for her.
Santana had to muster all her self-control to not run straight from the shower to her bedroom. She knew that the longer she prolonged it, the better it would be. So, she brushed and flossed her teeth, combed the ropy, wet tangles from her hair, put on a fresh t-shirt and pair of underwear that she brought from her room, moisturised her face and then, her whole body tingling, clicked the light off in the bathroom and padded down the hall way.
There was a faint slither of light coming from under the crack in her door. It wasn't bright enough to be from her main light so Santana guessed that Brittany had turned on her bedside lamp.
Holding her breath from anticipation, Santana creaked the door open and saw that she was right- Brittany had pulled Santana's curtains, gotten them both bottles of water from the fridge downstairs, turned the lamp on and hopped into one side of the bed. She'd even pulled the blankets down on the other side for Santana.
Santana walked further into the room and shut the door behind her, grinning like an idiot. Brittany looked up from her lap to smile back.
"Hey," she greeted her softly, trailing her eyes over Santana.
"Hey yourself," Santana replied, dropping down onto the mattress and wiggling under the blankets.
"Whatcha got there?" She asked, nodding down at the paper that Brittany had on her lap.
Brittany looked down.
"Oh," she said, folding it up and showing Santana the cover. "I found it beside the bed when I...What?" Brittany faltered as Santana snatched the 'Or...there's college?' pamphlet out of her hands.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Brittany asked in alarm as Santana gritted her teeth and ripped it clean in half- separating the homeless man from his bridge. She tossed the pieces down the side of her bed.
"It's stupid," she muttered, tugging the blankets up to her chin and sliding down on the pillows.
Brittany rolled over on her side, propped herself up on her elbow and looked at her.
"I don't think it is," she said quietly.
Santana skittered her gaze over to Brittany but then dropped it away again.
"It's just a dumb pamphlet. I meant to chuck it anyway."
"Why?"
Santana huffed a sigh and threw her gaze to the ceiling.
"It's just dumb."
"Thinking about your future isn't dumb. It's forward thinking and smart."
"It just seems...well, let's just say that I get why MJ and Peter Pan wanted to hide out in their Never Never Lands.
Brittany jerked her head back, frowning.
"Wait...coz you want to get away from everyone saying you touched their little kids or because you don't want to grow up?"
Santana smiled at the ceiling.
"Mostly the second one."
The mattress jostled and Santana felt Brittany come closer. Her hand was picked up off her stomach and cupped between Brittany's.
"Why are you scared?"
Santana frowned and shut her eyes, taking a breath.
"I don't know," she said slowly. "I guess it just seems like such a big step and I don't know where to start. And everyone's like...already applying and getting into places and I just…" She shook her head to clear the waver from her voice.
After a pause she looked across at Brittany.
"Aren't you scared?" She asked in a small voice.
Brittany shrugged.
"I think everyone should be a little scared. And you say you don't know where to start but you don't realise that you already have started. Getting the pamphlet- even if you ripped it up- it still counts. And there are so many people to help you figure stuff out. You know, like...Miss P and Mr Schue and Coach Sue…"
Santana snorted.
"...and your Mom and Dad and J.K. Rowling and well...there's me, too."
At that, Santana felt tears rising in her throat.
"I'm-I'm scared of not always having you," she admitted in a strangled voice, looking back up at the ceiling.
Brittany didn't reply for a moment. Instead, she tucked herself closer into Santana, laying her head on her chest and curving her arm around Santana's waist. Santana pressed her face into the top of Brittany's head and inhaled the scent of her hair.
It was infinitely comforting.
When Brittany spoke, Santana couldn't see her face, but she felt the words vibrating against her ribs.
"I'm scared of not always having you too. But that's how you're supposed to feel when you love someone."
Nodding against Brittany's head, Santana took a steadying breath.
She tried to hold on to the space of time around them. She tried to clamp the lid down and shut away this moment where she could feel Brittany against her, smell her hair, hear her voice.
It deserved to be felt for longer. Enjoyed again and again. And used to chase everything else away.
Even though Santana was still smarting from Kurt's dismissal of her genius spy mission she let herself be dragged by Brittany to the auditorium.
She and Brittany were the last to arrive on the stage and they fell into the back of the semi-circle that the others had made around Kurt.
"Seriously though," Santana started saying to anyone who was listening- which was mostly only Brittany, "if it were Kurt that had stuck his neck out and got that tape I guarantee that everyone would be wetting their pants and throwing a friggn baby shower for his new born balls-"
"Santana," Mercedes whispered warningly. "Shh."
Santana rolled her eyes around the auditorium and crossed her arms- already preparing to mentally black out through Kurt's speech.
"Okay guys," he started, sweeping his gummy smile around them all. "Firstly, I…"
"Hey, where's Rachel and Finn?" Artie interrupted, glancing around.
"Oh, it-it doesn't really matter," Kurt said dismissively. "They already know what I'm planning."
"Of course. Rachel has the nose of a blood hound when it comes to lessons in morality," Quinn said.
"Rachel has the nose of a blood hound. Full stop," Santana scoffed.
"Alright, alright!" Kurt flapped his hands over the scattered laughter to draw their attention back to him. "Firstly, I…" He spun on the balls of his feet and smiled meekly at Santana.
"Santana, I owe you a thank you. Because putting yourself on the line for…me…well, no, for us all, really, was a really Michael thing to do. And it just shows how far we've all come as a family- and how you've learnt the lesson that I want to now try teach the Warblers."
Kurt started a clap, smiling at her and the others joined in.
Santana rolled her eyes, annoyed that her face was getting hot and that she was grinning. She shook her head and sniffed a small laugh.
"While I do think that all the hair spray you use has made you so deranged that you don't see a frigging epic opportunity to crush these guys, when you're presented with one, I will say," She tipped her head in a small bow, "you're welcome."
"Always so gracious Santana," Kurt said, a small smile playing on his lips.
"So, what's the lesson then?" Sheasked. "I mean, I'm worried that I don't know- seeing as I've supposedly learnt it already."
"Acceptance," Kurt held up his hands and shrugged "Learning to love the people around you for who they are. Putting other people before yourself and caring about them."
Santana tilted her head. "Huh."
"Ah, I think I'm onto this," Sam said, nodding slowly in Kurt's direction.
"Well, it is what MJ would do," Kurt shrugged again, backing up to the stereo that sat on the edge of the stage. "I picked a song of his- no, the song of his- that has always taught that lesson the best."
He bent down to the stereo and punched a few buttons. "Oh, and…" he added over his shoulder, "the band will be here soon for when we actually sing it to the Warblers."
He hit play and stepped back, watching them expectantly as the song began.
"I knew it would be this!" Sam exclaimed, grinning and clapping along to the beat.
There were scattered whoops as everyone else realised what the song was and began to clap and dance too.
Santana stood amongst them, stifiling a smile as she watched Mike leading Mercedes and Quinn through an impromptu moonwalk, and Kurt grabbing his crotch and doing the MJ hip thrust.
Artie was wheeling himself around in circles, holding up one hand in the air and calling, "prrrreeeaaccchh it MJ, preach it!"
The music swelled and Santana was now laughing openly at everyone dancing. Then, she was shoved sideways.
Composing herself, Santana wheeled around and caught sight of Brittany wiggling her hips close, mouthing the words to the song and smiling coyly at Santana.
"But, if you're thinkin' about my baby, it don't matter if you're black or white."