El Español Fic
Title: El Español Fic
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairings: Quinn, Santana/Brittany
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Length: 1185
Spoilers: First Season
Summary: Quinn attempts to help Brittany and Santana study for their Spanish test. Chaos ensues.
AN: Thanks to everyone in the comments for help cleaning up my disastuh attempts at other languages. It's much appreciated!
Quinn had walked in on Brittany and Santana in compromising positions before. Like, that one time when she’d walked in on them in the locker room. Or, that other time when she’d walked in on them in Mr. Schuester’s office. Or, that other time when she’d ‘walked in on them’ in the middle of the food court at the mall. Or… okay, so there were too many times to count, really. And yet for some stupid reason she was still surprised when she opened the door to Brittany’s room and found them cuddled together on the bed.
“Santana, what the hell!?” Quinn whisper-shouted (because, shocked as she irrationally was, she didn’t want to get Santana in trouble, since she wasn’t really allowed in Brittany’s house ever since she accidentally left her panties in the kitchen).
Santana just looked up from the book she was sharing with Brittany, shrugged, and looked back down.
“Brittany,” Quinn tried again, “I thought you wanted help studying for your Spanish test. You didn’t tell me she would be here.” Yeah, Quinn was still a bit sore from that time when Santana, like, stabbed her in the back and stole her spot as Cheerios captain and mocked her weight and stuff.
“Santana’s here to help, too,” Brittany said.
“Deal with it,” Santana said.
And that was that.
---
Well, that was that for about two minutes, until Brittany got out from under the covers to get Quinn’s Spanish notes.
“Oh my god, you guys,” Quinn groaned. “You are not studying naked. Put some clothes on!”
---
Hour number one.
As it turned out, Brittany was probably the second-worst person in the entire universe at Spanish, Quinn decided.
The worst? Well:
“Hey, Britt, how do you say ‘fuck’ in Spanish?”
“Abraçar. Duh, it says so right here in the book.”
“No way! ‘Abraser!’” Santana giggled. Brittany giggled, too.
Quinn gaped.
“Say something sexy to me,” Santana said, her voice dropping, as she leaned closer to Brittany.
“’Kay. Um,” Brittany flipped through their textbook for a bit, looking for the proper words. Finally, she turned back to the brunette. With a sparkle in her eye and a smirk on her face, she said, “Por que você está traduzindo isto?”
“You’re so smart, Brittany,” Santana whispered before wrapping her hand around the other girl’s neck and bringing their lips together. They made out for a little bit (because apparently when it came to remembering who was in the room with them, the teenagers had the combined memory of a mentally challenged grain of salt) and rolled over so Brittany’s shoulder was digging into the Spanish book in a way that, to Quinn, looked uncomfortable.
“Okay, guys, seriously,” Quinn finally said when it became readily apparent that her friends weren’t going to cut it out anytime soon. “We really need to study for this test now!”
Brittany pulled her lips away from Santana’s neck and narrowed her eyes at Quinn. “Twatswat.”
Santana groaned and rolled her eyes. “Why did you even invite her?”
Brittany opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again and thought. Finally she shrugged.
Quinn’s palm met her face. “Do you want me to help you with your Spanish or not?”
“Oh yeah.”
---
Hour number two.
Quinn flipped through the pages of Santana’s notebook (she’d given up on Brittany’s notebook, since her Spanish section seemed to be filled with notes about Math, and her Math section was all about English) with a look of horror and disbelief perhaps permanently melded to her face. This… was not Spanish. This… Quinn didn’t even know what this was. “Seriously,” she mumbled, “how are you guys not failing this class?”
Santana shrugged. “I cheat off you.”
Brittany shrugged. “I made out with the Spanish teacher.”
Quinn purposefully dropped Santana’s notebook to the floor and covered her ears (she was trying to block out their conversation and erase it from her mind forever but oh my god they were still talking like “Mr. Schue? Ugh.” “What? He’s a good kisser!” and Quinn was going to vomit and she didn’t even have a fetus to blame it on this time). She took a deep breath and tried to calm her rage by doing that thing that she did where she mentally critiqued people’s outfits (which was hard, since Brittany and Santana were now both wearing the same Cheerios outfit as she was).
Finally, “Okay!” Quinn’s voice was now saccharine. “So what do you guys know about conjugating verbs?”
Silence.
---
Hour number three.
Santana had improved from her initial starting point of only being able to say lame Yo’ Mama jokes in Spanish. Brittany had improved from her initial starting point of being able to pronounce the word ‘Sombrero’ correctly.
They were now able to communicate. Of course, they only seemed to be able to communicate with each other, and Quinn had no idea what language they were actually speaking in, but they were communicating nonetheless.
“O meu deus, Espanhol é tão fácil!” Santana exclaimed, a smile growing on her face.
“T'as vue? On va le réussir ce contrôle.” Brittany raised her hand for a high-five. Santana's hand met hers, and Brittany clasped their hands together in the air and pulled the other girl towards her.
Santana let herself be dragged, and rested her head on Brittany’s shoulder. “Ja! Ich bin glücklich, dass Quinn uns geholfen hat zu studieren.”
Brittany turned her head to whisper, “Также она очень горячa.”
“はい!” Now they were both looking at Quinn kind of freakishly. It lasted for a few minutes longer as the two girls continued to mumble to each other in garbled bits of not-Spanish.
Quinn blinked, frowned, tilted her head to the side, frowned deeper, and then finally spoke, “Um, you guys. That’s not Spanish.”
Santana looked momentarily crushed (and a little like she was going to cry for a second there), and Brittany just looked confused. Santana then pulled herself together and remembered she was supposed to be threatening and shit. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, before setting her best glare on Quinn and growling, “¡Puta, por favor!”
---
Hour number four.
Apparently Brittany got handsy when she was bored.
---
Hour number four and one quarter.
Apparently Quinn got slap-happy when she was mad. Like, literally.
---
Hour number five.
Quinn could not even deal with this anymore. She just fucking left.
---
Of course, by Spanish class the next day, Quinn’s massive Christian guilt or whatever was acting up again and so she felt all guilty for abandoning her BFF/arch-rival and stuff.
Well, at least she did, but then she felt a fast, hard jab on her arm, and she heard Santana’s hushed voice whispering, “Move your damn arm. I can’t see.”
Quinn looked to her right (and also moved her arm, for the record), only to see Santana furiously copying her answers and Brittany playing with the origami hopping frog she made out of her test while occasionally sending a smoldering glance at Mr. Schuester (who looked very uncomfortable, but at one point awkwardly waved back at her). She also saw their hands dangling between their desks, joint by their linked pinkies.
And then Quinn knew everything would be fine.
end.
Fandom: Glee
Characters/Pairings: Quinn, Santana/Brittany
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Length: 1185
Spoilers: First Season
Summary: Quinn attempts to help Brittany and Santana study for their Spanish test. Chaos ensues.
AN: Thanks to everyone in the comments for help cleaning up my disastuh attempts at other languages. It's much appreciated!
Quinn had walked in on Brittany and Santana in compromising positions before. Like, that one time when she’d walked in on them in the locker room. Or, that other time when she’d walked in on them in Mr. Schuester’s office. Or, that other time when she’d ‘walked in on them’ in the middle of the food court at the mall. Or… okay, so there were too many times to count, really. And yet for some stupid reason she was still surprised when she opened the door to Brittany’s room and found them cuddled together on the bed.
“Santana, what the hell!?” Quinn whisper-shouted (because, shocked as she irrationally was, she didn’t want to get Santana in trouble, since she wasn’t really allowed in Brittany’s house ever since she accidentally left her panties in the kitchen).
Santana just looked up from the book she was sharing with Brittany, shrugged, and looked back down.
“Brittany,” Quinn tried again, “I thought you wanted help studying for your Spanish test. You didn’t tell me she would be here.” Yeah, Quinn was still a bit sore from that time when Santana, like, stabbed her in the back and stole her spot as Cheerios captain and mocked her weight and stuff.
“Santana’s here to help, too,” Brittany said.
“Deal with it,” Santana said.
And that was that.
---
Well, that was that for about two minutes, until Brittany got out from under the covers to get Quinn’s Spanish notes.
“Oh my god, you guys,” Quinn groaned. “You are not studying naked. Put some clothes on!”
---
Hour number one.
As it turned out, Brittany was probably the second-worst person in the entire universe at Spanish, Quinn decided.
The worst? Well:
“Hey, Britt, how do you say ‘fuck’ in Spanish?”
“Abraçar. Duh, it says so right here in the book.”
“No way! ‘Abraser!’” Santana giggled. Brittany giggled, too.
Quinn gaped.
“Say something sexy to me,” Santana said, her voice dropping, as she leaned closer to Brittany.
“’Kay. Um,” Brittany flipped through their textbook for a bit, looking for the proper words. Finally, she turned back to the brunette. With a sparkle in her eye and a smirk on her face, she said, “Por que você está traduzindo isto?”
“You’re so smart, Brittany,” Santana whispered before wrapping her hand around the other girl’s neck and bringing their lips together. They made out for a little bit (because apparently when it came to remembering who was in the room with them, the teenagers had the combined memory of a mentally challenged grain of salt) and rolled over so Brittany’s shoulder was digging into the Spanish book in a way that, to Quinn, looked uncomfortable.
“Okay, guys, seriously,” Quinn finally said when it became readily apparent that her friends weren’t going to cut it out anytime soon. “We really need to study for this test now!”
Brittany pulled her lips away from Santana’s neck and narrowed her eyes at Quinn. “Twatswat.”
Santana groaned and rolled her eyes. “Why did you even invite her?”
Brittany opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again and thought. Finally she shrugged.
Quinn’s palm met her face. “Do you want me to help you with your Spanish or not?”
“Oh yeah.”
---
Hour number two.
Quinn flipped through the pages of Santana’s notebook (she’d given up on Brittany’s notebook, since her Spanish section seemed to be filled with notes about Math, and her Math section was all about English) with a look of horror and disbelief perhaps permanently melded to her face. This… was not Spanish. This… Quinn didn’t even know what this was. “Seriously,” she mumbled, “how are you guys not failing this class?”
Santana shrugged. “I cheat off you.”
Brittany shrugged. “I made out with the Spanish teacher.”
Quinn purposefully dropped Santana’s notebook to the floor and covered her ears (she was trying to block out their conversation and erase it from her mind forever but oh my god they were still talking like “Mr. Schue? Ugh.” “What? He’s a good kisser!” and Quinn was going to vomit and she didn’t even have a fetus to blame it on this time). She took a deep breath and tried to calm her rage by doing that thing that she did where she mentally critiqued people’s outfits (which was hard, since Brittany and Santana were now both wearing the same Cheerios outfit as she was).
Finally, “Okay!” Quinn’s voice was now saccharine. “So what do you guys know about conjugating verbs?”
Silence.
---
Hour number three.
Santana had improved from her initial starting point of only being able to say lame Yo’ Mama jokes in Spanish. Brittany had improved from her initial starting point of being able to pronounce the word ‘Sombrero’ correctly.
They were now able to communicate. Of course, they only seemed to be able to communicate with each other, and Quinn had no idea what language they were actually speaking in, but they were communicating nonetheless.
“O meu deus, Espanhol é tão fácil!” Santana exclaimed, a smile growing on her face.
“T'as vue? On va le réussir ce contrôle.” Brittany raised her hand for a high-five. Santana's hand met hers, and Brittany clasped their hands together in the air and pulled the other girl towards her.
Santana let herself be dragged, and rested her head on Brittany’s shoulder. “Ja! Ich bin glücklich, dass Quinn uns geholfen hat zu studieren.”
Brittany turned her head to whisper, “Также она очень горячa.”
“はい!” Now they were both looking at Quinn kind of freakishly. It lasted for a few minutes longer as the two girls continued to mumble to each other in garbled bits of not-Spanish.
Quinn blinked, frowned, tilted her head to the side, frowned deeper, and then finally spoke, “Um, you guys. That’s not Spanish.”
Santana looked momentarily crushed (and a little like she was going to cry for a second there), and Brittany just looked confused. Santana then pulled herself together and remembered she was supposed to be threatening and shit. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, before setting her best glare on Quinn and growling, “¡Puta, por favor!”
---
Hour number four.
Apparently Brittany got handsy when she was bored.
---
Hour number four and one quarter.
Apparently Quinn got slap-happy when she was mad. Like, literally.
---
Hour number five.
Quinn could not even deal with this anymore. She just fucking left.
---
Of course, by Spanish class the next day, Quinn’s massive Christian guilt or whatever was acting up again and so she felt all guilty for abandoning her BFF/arch-rival and stuff.
Well, at least she did, but then she felt a fast, hard jab on her arm, and she heard Santana’s hushed voice whispering, “Move your damn arm. I can’t see.”
Quinn looked to her right (and also moved her arm, for the record), only to see Santana furiously copying her answers and Brittany playing with the origami hopping frog she made out of her test while occasionally sending a smoldering glance at Mr. Schuester (who looked very uncomfortable, but at one point awkwardly waved back at her). She also saw their hands dangling between their desks, joint by their linked pinkies.
And then Quinn knew everything would be fine.
end.