Doing It Right: Volume 2 (23/27)
Title: Doing It Right: Volume 2, Chapter 23: Some Hot Dish
Author: creedogv
Rating: T
Summary: Santana was given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, and she succeeded, but now she’s haunted by dreams that drive her to continue righting wrongs. When the rumors start flying, every relationship she’s tried so hard to fix is about to get rocky.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Word Count: ~6700
Spoilers: 2x189 “Rumours”
Author’s Note: The chapter count went up again, because I’m breaking “Fondue for Couples” into two separate chapters.
VOLUME 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6-1 Chapter 6-2 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16-1 Chapter 16-2 Chapter 17-1 Chapter 17-2 Chapter 18-1 Chapter 18-2 Chapter 19 VOLUME 2 Chapter 20 Chapter 21-1 Chapter 21-2 Chapter 22-1 Chapter 22-2
* * *
So here’s what you missed on Glee. Santana tries to stop Finn from breaking Rachel’s nose, but she ends up doing it herself. Ouch! Anyway, to encourage Rachel to skip the nose job, Mr. Schue and Holly Holliday decide to have the “Born This Way” week. Santana is totally into showing off the fact that she “LIKES GIRLS”, which is probably why she decides to nudge Karofsky out of the closet. Quinn’s still dating Sam, but sometimes it seems like she only wants him to win prom queen. Speaking of which, Santana is helping Quinn with her campaign, because she knows she can’t run because she’s with Brittany. She tries to dissuade Karofsky from running, but he totally misses the point of her argument and becomes Lauren Zizes’ running mate. He also joins the GayLesbAll and helps with their anti-bullying league. Didn’t see that coming. In the end, Santana and Kurt know he’s not ready to come out, but they think he just might be ready to come out in a different way: as someone who “LOVES TO DANCE”. But, at the end of the day, there’s only one dance-lover that Santana really cares about, Brittany: “I was so proud of you.” And that’s what you missed on… Glee!
* * *
“I heard a rumor that Santana plays for the other team. And I can confirm that rumor. It’s a hundred percent true.”
Santana was a little irked to say the least to wake and realize that her girlfriend, in another universe, had publically outed her on the “Fondue For Two” webseries that she was currently developing in this universe, too.
So, for the first time in quite a while, Santana found herself sneaking out of Brittany’s room without waking her to say good-bye.
* * *
“You’re mad at me,” Brittany remarked pitifully at their lockers the next morning.
“No, I’m not,” Santana lied. It’s not like I have any right to be.
“I can tell when you’re lying.”
She sighed. “It’s stupid.”
“That’s a no-no word.”
“I’ll put a quarter in the no-no box, which by the way, we need to either rename or choose a new type of container.” She admitted, “I had a bad dream. I was still in the closet and you told everybody that I played for the other team.”
“Are we talking about the gay closet and the lesbian team, or like the place your keep your overalls and the glee team?”
Santana looked down at the overalls she was indeed sporting. “Good question. Let’s say the first one. If I was still scared, dating Puck or Sam or-God forbid-Karofsky… or something,” she added dismissively, “…would you tell people that I was faking it?”
“No way. You were so scared at first when Jacob and Coach told everybody. I was like even trying to help you keep it a secret, remember?”
Santana did remember Brittany’s attempt at beard-growing, as it had caused a lot of tension in their relationship. “But what if it was now and I still wouldn’t tell anyone?”
Brittany struggled to answer, “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to hurt you, but I think maybe, well, what if I thought you were hurting yourself more by hiding? I love you and I just want to do whatever makes you happiest.”
Santana’s mouth curved into a sad smile. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Plus,” Brittany added, “Everyone at this school thinks my head’s full of Play-Doh. I don’t think anyone would believe me.”
Santana nodded. “I promise I’ll stop getting mad at you about thinks Dream-Brittany does.”
“I understand. Lord Tubbington forgave me when I caught Dream-Tubby eating macaroni salad.” Seeing Santana’s mood improving, she grabbed her girlfriend’s hand. “So, how many brownie points did I win?”
Santana grinned. “Mmm… eight.”
“Is that enough for me to ask you to film Episode 1 of Fondue for Two? My mom has to work the late shift tonight.”
“With some to spare.”
* * *
Fondue for Two!
Fondue for Two!
Some hot dish!
Fondue for Two!
“Hi, I’m Brittany S. Pierce. And this is my new Internet talk show, Fondue for Two, which combines the two things I like most: hot cheese and talking to people. My first two guests are the school’s biggest gossips: Mercedes Jones and Miss Tina Cohen-Chang. Also, my beautiful girlfriend, Santana J. Lopez, will be running the camera.”
“‘Sup, bitches.”
Brittany glared at the camera and cleared her throat. “So, let’s get down to some hot dish. I heard a rumor that Assistant Principal Figgins in secretly in a cult that worships Saved by the Bell character Zack Morris.”
Mercedes spat out a piece of bread into her napkin. “Oh my god, that’s hot,” she whined, “Is this really what they were doing in the Seventies?”
“Is that how they were dressing in the Seventies, Brittany?” Tina teased.
“Hey,” Santana said, off-camera, “don’t insult my girl’s impeccable fashion sense. I will go all Lima Heights on your skinny Asian ass.”
Brittany made a few angry, clipped noises at the camera. “Moving on, Mercedes, can you confirm the rumor about Indian men?”
Mercedes’s eyes opened to the size of saucers. “Uh, Raj and I have only been on three dates. How fast do you go?”
“Don’t answer that, Hot Stuff,” Santana warned.
Brittany just winked wickedly at the camera, thrusting a coy shoulder forward.
“Can I second that?”
Tina tried to get things back on track. “I didn’t realize there was a rumor about Indian men.”
“Isn’t the rumor that they sing songs to make girls fall in love with them? That’s what happened in all the Wallyworld movies Artie showed me when he was trying to ‘expound my cultured liaisons’.”
A faint growl could be heard. “Do you have a dog, Brittany?” Tina asked.
Mercedes answered the question, “Well, yes, Raj has sung to me as part of his very successful pledge to make me his girlfriend…” she admitted giddily before shifting back to a semi-serious tone, “…but I want to point out that’s an indicator of him being a singer, not of him being of Indian descent.”
Brittany was already bored of the topic at hand. “Moving on, I heard a rumor that Quinn still has feelings for Puck. And I can confirm that; it’s a hundred percent true.”
Tina and Mercedes’ shocked glances were almost not caught by the camera due to a sudden shaking of the frame.
“Uh, excuse me?”
“Brittany, why would you…? Are you sure…?”
“Uh-huh,” Brittany remarked worriedly. The silence was broken by the mewing of Brittany’s mammoth cat, Lord Tubbington, which Brittany was miraculously able to pick up. She introduced him to the camera and placed him on a chair behind her, where he began to hump a yellow-haired cheerleader doll.
“Uh, so that’s happening,” Mercedes pointed out.
“It’s okay. Lord Tubbington and Lady Charity have an open relationship.” She leaned in and held her hand up to the side of her mouth, to block the comment from her portly cat, and whispered, “Lord T has a crush on me-you know, an Edith Head Complex-but since he can’t date me-”
“’Cuz she’s my girl,” Santana called out from behind that camera.
“That’s right,” Brittany replied, winking. “Since he can’t date me, he’s allowed to have an affair with Little Bit-Bit the Cheerio.”
Tina jumped in, “Can I discuss the fact that Mike doesn’t have a small-”
“’Kay, well, that’s all the time we have for today. Tune in next week for a Fondue for Two where we’ll be the vicious rumor about mayor of Lima mailing badgers from the Ottawa to New Hampshire.”
* * *
The next morning, the three former Cheerios in the choir room were a sight to behold. Quinn was attempting to charge forward in a rage, but was being held back by Santana, whose arms encircled the blonde’s torso. Her target was Brittany, half-cowering and half-pouting at Quinn from behind a chair.
“Seriously, Q, this is kind of my gimmick,” Santana managed to joke through teeth clenched with exertion.
“You told everyone I still have feelings for Puck?!” Quinn screamed, “Why would you say that?!”
“You do have feelings for Puck. You have angry feelings because he wrecked your body by sneaking a baby into your belly.”
Quinn threw Santana off but didn’t continue her charge. Her yelling continued, though. “And you couldn’t have clarified that?!”
“I don’t have allergies,” she mumbled in reply.
“Brittany! I have a boyfriend now. Who isn’t Puck. Who is now very jealous because he thinks I’m harboring feelings for my ex-boyfriend. What if I told the whole school Santana was still in love with Puck? How would you feel?”
“I’d feel like you’re a crazy person. Santana was never in love with Puck. Were you?”
“Pssh, no,” Santana replied, indignant.
“Ugh!” Quinn groaned before stomping to the door, “Don’t worry, Brittany. I’ll clean up after your mess, like always.”
Santana turned back to Brittany, who meekly commented, “She was really pissed. I didn’t think she was that into Sam.”
“Maybe it’s about the prom queen race? She probably thinks a love triangle might hurt her chances.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” Santana nodded, but Brittany remained silent. Now sitting in the chair that had been her shield, she made a come-here gesture. “Santana, there’s other people in the room.” She pointed with her thumb at the rest of the glee club, who were all watching the proceedings with rapt attention. Santana acquiesced and took a seat by her girlfriend.
After Brittany whispered into her ear, Santana face showed surprise. “Wow, well, you’d be the expert.” She brushed a stray lock of Brittany’s hair behind her ear. “Maybe keep that on the down-low for now, okay?” She noticed that her fellow glee clubbers were still staring. “Okay, New Directions, let’s address the giant elephant in the room.” After watching their expectant expressions, she announced, “Mike and Tina, I hear you two took the Oriental Express all the way to Bootytown. Let’s give them a round of applause, folks.”
Santana clapped her hands. Brittany automatically joined in, as did Rachel, whose instinct was to always join in on applause in case it was for her. Mercedes soon joined too to give her best friend a hard time, and Puck and Finn slapped their buddy on the back. Mike and Tina blushed several shades of crimson.
* * *
Will and Holly were sharing at pizza at his apartment when there was a loud persistent knocking on his door, accompanied by even louder, beckoning “Whoo-hoo!” calls. The moment he opened his door, something short and blonde threw itself into his arms. April Rhodes politely crawled down his body. “Well, hey there, Handsome. I thought I’d drop by and see my favorite show choir director.” She smiled flirtatiously until she noticed Holly’s form hovering down the hallway. Immediately she shoved him aside and scuttled to the taller woman. “Well, doodle-lee-bee and ex-cuse me, is there a lady of the house now?”
Will cleared his throat. “Not exactly. Holly, meet April Rhodes. April, this is Holly Holliday, my girlfriend, fellow educator, and glee co-director.”
April chuckled showily. “Well, your mama must have been as tipsy as I am right now when she slapped that moniker on you.” She lowered her voice and stage whispered, “I of course meant in the epidural sense; I’m not at all suggesting your mother would have been on libations during childbirth, like my ma was, else you’d be touched in the head. I’m just kidding not really. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Ex-girlfriend of yours?” Holly calmly asked her boyfriend.
“No.”
“Eh…” April traitorously disagreed.
“April is a former classmate of mine.”
“…who he dug something fierce.”
“In high school, yes,” he reiterated. “April is the one who purchased the auditorium for us.”
Holly nodded. “So that’s why it’s the called the Whatsherface Civil Center?”
“’Gain, it’s April Rhodes, and you’d be wise notta forget it, ya hear me, peach?”
Will gestured toward the living room. “So, April, come have a seat with us. You can tell us how it’s going on Broadway.”
“Well, I can tell ya it’s going just awful. My all-white production of The Wiz? Bombed.” She made the accompanying miming gesture and sound effect. The gesture was seamlessly followed up by her hand scooping Will’s glass of wine up.
Holly wondered aloud, “Well, wouldn’t that just be The Wizard of the Oz, except with rapping white people? That’s never a welcome addition.” She eyed Will playfully, who glared in response. “Maybe I was talking about Artie,” she defended herself.
“Wow, Will, you got a feisty one here. Good for you. In fact, can somebody hand me a knife to cut the sexual tension in this room? Far too many sexy people in this here apartment.” She gave Will, then Holly, the once-over. “But, seriously,” she added, “can someone get me a knife? I wanna dig into this scrumptious-lookin’ pizza from my favorite neighborhood pizza parlor the old days, Alfredo’s, but I needs me to cut one of these slices in half. Gotta watch my womanly figure, you know what I’m talking about,” she indicated to Holly, who nodded politely. “So, what’s the topic du jour, or should I say, topic du… noctem?”
“Sue Sylvester… you remember her, the cheerleading coach?”
“Do I.”
“Well, it’s now Principal Sue Sylvester, and she’s restarted the school newspaper.”
“I’m assuming you mean The Muckraker? A free-spirited girl like me would be celebratory, but of course a fuddy-duddy like you would have your sexy, aggravated voice on. Now if it were The Olympian coming back, you’d be beside yourself with joy at that dull old rag.”
Holly jumped in, “We thought the whispering and backstabbings-”
“…the love triangles,” Will added.
“…and questions of sexuality had died down, but the rumor mill has reignited all the drama. I’d enjoy this live-action The Real Housewives of Lima if we weren’t trying to get these kids ready for Nationals.”
“Oh, yeah, I heard! Just ‘cuz I’ve been living the dream in the Big Apple don’t mean I don’t keep up with the Lima happenings. Congrats. So, back to your problems: sounds like your club’s got a touch of the Mac.”
“The what?”
“Fleetwood Mac! They fought all the time. But instead of breaking up, they put that drama to good use and wrote great music.”
Will grinned. “You know, I think I might have Rumours on LP somewhere.”
“Of course he does,” April muttered.
“Of course you do,” Holly muttered in unison.
“Doesn’t everybody?” April remarked aloud at Will’s already retreating form. “Not me. Sold my for drugs. Kidding nope I actually did that.”
“Condoms,” Holly volunteered. April grabbed Holly’s glass of wine and toasted her.
From the record player, Will remarked, “You know, I’ve wanted to do a whole lesson devoted to a single album for a long time.”
“He loves his theme weeks,” Holly explained.
As the music started playing, April noted, “You know, I’d love to help out. Can I borrow your boyfriend for a little ditty?”
* * *
“Now here you go again/You say you want your freedom…” April sang. Quinn knew she was just slinging her arm to point at the group as a whole, but she couldn’t help but feel April was for some reason singing to her. She bowed her heads and tried to keep her eyes away from Sam’s shoes.
“Well, who am I to keep you down?” She plopped down in Artie’s lap, thinking the frowning boy need a pick-me-up.
“It’s only right that you should/Play the way you feel it…” Kurt cheerily bounced in his seat, bumping his shoulder with a rather melancholy-looking Mercedes. Mike and Tina likewise danced in their seats.
“But listen carefully to the sound/Of your loneliness…” Puck, whose mind had drifted to past happy memories of April, now began to frown. He turned to his side, seeing Artie looking similar downcast, so he held up a fist for Artie to bump, which he did weakly.
The melody began to pick up, and April belted a little bit. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad/In the stillness of remembering…” Quinn bit her bottom lip as she shifted her weight away from Sam.
“What you had/And what you lost/And what you had/And what you lost…” April sung, with Will on back-up. Artie hazard a glance to where Brittany sat, leaning against Santana, was tapping Quinn on the shoulder, whispering something to her. Mercedes watched this gloomily.
“Oh, thunder only happens when it’s raining…” they sang loudly. Rachel playfully leaned over into Finn’s lap, soundlessly laughing. Finn grinned down at his girlfriend before turning to his stepbrother, who was mouthing the words. He softly slugged him on the arm. Kurt slugged Finn back on the knee.
“Players only love you when they’re playing…” Mercedes slouched over in her seat, crossing her arms protectively around herself.
“Say, women…they will come and they will go…” Sam noticed that his girlfriend had shifted over several inches away from him, with a troubled look on his face.
“When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know/You’ll know…” Will and April sang together, while Holly, seated on the piano bench beside Brad, frowned.
* * *
Mercedes slipped out of Ms. Holliday’s health lesson, the look of illness on her face subtly morphing into a look of guilt. Skipping class was just another layer on top of her quickly accumulating stack of sins. She snuck into the girls’ locker room and dialed a number. Even though the room would be empty for at least twenty more minutes, she still huddled up into a corner and spoke softly.
“Hey, Luke, it’s Mercedes. I caught you between classes, right?” She jerked away from the phone. “Oh, so you saw that stupid fondue show already?” She listened for a minute and proceeded with the half-truths. “He’s a guy I met through a mutual friend. It wasn’t supposed to be… I-I didn’t realize I was being set up.” She listened for a little while. “No, that’s not why I called. I was hoping to catch you before and do this right… You can tell them whatever you want. I’m sorry this didn’t…” She pulled her phone away, looking at the ‘CALL DISCONNECTED’ screen. “…work out.”
Deciding that was enough calling for today, she pulled up Raj’s number on her phone and composed a text message, which she rewrote no less than three times.
“I need a pity party. Or an ‘I-told-you-so’ party.” She scrolled through her contact list and stopped at ‘Fabray’. “Damn. Haven’t talked to her in like a month. God, I’m a worse friend than girlfriend.”
She scrolled further and reached ‘Kurt’. Her best friend was an ideal candidate, but lately all their get-togethers included both Blaine and Santana and, recently, Brittany. She now realized that she’d put Blaine in an awkward position. And she half-blamed Santana for the mess she was in. And it was Brittany’s dumb show that started this mess (and burned her tongue, which was still numb).
She scrolled past Santana’s name, resolving again to procrastinate about changing her listing from ‘Satan’ and replacing the profile picture with something not graffitied with devil horns.
‘Tina C.’ popped up and Mercedes reasoned there was no conflict of interest there, so she typed out a quick message.
The reply came: ‘Can’t, date w mike tonite.’
‘Cancel. I’ll pay for ur next date. Really need u.’ followed up with, ‘Boy trouble.’
After a minute, Tina replied, ‘Ok, we were staying in anyway.’
‘Tmi.’ then ‘Thx.’
* * *
And the songbirds keep singing,
Like they know the score,
And I love you, I love you, I love you,
Like never before, like never before
Santana was reliving her dream. Every detail was the same. Brad was playing the piano. She wore the same off-the-shoulder white blouse. Brittany was even wearing an orange floral wrap-dress-Santana had laid out the outfit before she snuck out that morning. She was crying; Brittany was crying.
Okay, some of the details aren’t the same. Brittany was smiling through her tears and when the song was over, she didn’t challenge Santana about not singing in front of everyone because… because she did sing it in front of everyone. Though ‘everyone’ was remaining eerily silent after the song.
Brittany hopped up from her seat and pressed her lips into Santana’s. She held the kiss for quite a while and Santana made no move to break it.
“Uh…” Puck was the first to break the silence. “You two keep doing that, ‘cause it’s really hot to watch. So, Lopez, you’re my girl; that song was rockin’ and heartfelt and all that shit…”
“Still wondering if I’m still into him?” Quinn asked Sam.
Puck continued as if he had overheard, “…but I’m not gonna lie; I was kind of suffocating on the love vibes there. I think that could have waited until you ladies were alone. And, added benefit: that hot mackin’ that’s still happening…” which indeed it was, “…could lead to its necessary conclusion.”
Santana pulled away. “Well, I’ll be singing it plenty to my girl in private. But just in case anyone was wondering how into this gorgeous lady I am, now you know.”
“Do you think that was directed at me?” Artie whispered to Puck.
Holly stated, “Santana, I can’t tell you how beautiful that was. I think someone is in the running for a solo for Nationals.” When Rachel huffed at the sentiment, Holly remarked, “Oh, bayita, you were never not in the running.”
Santana snorted a laugh, which she excused as a breathing exercise.
“Puck, Artie, I believe you said you had a duet for us?” Mr. Schue asked, realizing the need to keep things moving.
“Sure do, Mr. Schue,” Puck answered, as he and Artie grouped on the floor with their guitars.
Second Hand News - Fleetwood Mac
I know there’s nothing to say
Someone has taken my place
When times go bad
When times go rough
Won’t you lay me down in tall grass
And let me do my stuff
One thing I think you should know
I ain’t gonna miss you when you go
Been down so long
I’ve been tossed around enough
Couldn’t you just
Let me go down and do my stuff
I’m just second hand news
I’m just second hand news
“Very good, guys,” Will congratulated.
“Speaking of songs being directed…” Santana growled.
“Not everyone’s world revolves around your girlfriend, Santana.” Brittany’s head jerked about until Artie told her, “Brittany, our thing is long over, and we’ve both moved on, and I like to assume we’re still friends.”
Puck clarified, “Artie and I were singing about our most recent breakups: mine with Lauren…”
“…and mine with Genevieve.”
“Aw, what happened?” Tina asked sympathetically.
“It’s a long… odd story.”
* * *
Slap. Artie’s head jerked to the side. “Whoa, woman, when I agreed to roleplay the first time, I was expecting something a little different.”
“I was telegraphing my actions very clearly. It isn’t my fault that your predisposition to method acting due to your background in film rather than the stage makes your reflexes weak. Might I recommend karate?”
“My kicks have all the liveliness of a corpse. Can you remind me what we’re fighting about again? I forgot my script.”
“I have my suspicions that you’re cheating on me.”
“You do realize that the misconception of cheating is a staple among all mediums of fictions?”
Genevieve replied immediately, “You do realize that when one character replies to an accusation with a deflection instead of a denial it implies guilt?”
Artie was blindsided. “I forgot your special brand of crazy comes with quick-wittedness. I’m used to the opposite.”
“So, who is she?”
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t cheat; I just flirted with a girl who did glee a solid.”
“I’m sorry. Just because I choose to be overdramatic doesn’t mean I can’t choose not to be overjealous. They’re mutually inclusive.”
“I’ve got to say, Genny, dating you was never dull. Can we still be friends?”
Genevieve slapped him again.
“Could you have at least smacked my other cheek?”
“Would Jesus turn the other cheek?” Genevieve asked before stomping off.
Artie spun in his wheelchair and called after her. “Yes! Yes, he would! If you’re going to live your life arbitrarily according random proverbs, make sure you don’t mishear them!” But by then she was too far away. He mused to himself, “I wonder if I could have tricked her with an elaborate lie based on the plot of A Comedy of Errors.”
* * *
Fondue for Two!
Fondue for Two!
Some hot dish!
Fondue for Two!
“Hello again. I’m Brittany S. Pierce, and this is the second episode of my Internet talk show, Fondue for Two, which combines the two things I like most: melted chocolate and flirting with attractive people. My first guest today is someone very special to me: my beautiful, sexy, super-badass, super-gay girlfriend Santana Lopez. Since she can’t run the camera, my mother, Margo F. Pierce, has taken her place.”
Santana knew in advance why Brittany had invited her to her webshow, but she knew the girl loved giving surprises, so she was acting oblivious, grinning her award-winning Cheerio’s smile.
Brittany’s mom called out sweetly from behind the camera, “You’re doing great, Sweetie. And I didn’t know you two girls were together.”
Santana’s smile disappeared. “You didn’t tell your mom we were dating? The day after we got together, I had to endure a conversation with my folks that was even more awkward than when I came out.”
“I kept forgetting to tell her,” Brittany excused herself, “there’s a new rug in the living room and it’s so pretty that I stare at it for like ten minutes every time I get home, so I always forget to tell anyone about my day.”
“So, do you want me to spread some gossip?” Santana baited, “I’m pretty sure Jenny Fitzpatrick is pregnant by that football player Kevin Mambo or whatever. Oh, and Coach Delmonico has been using her office for something very illegal, but it’s not what you think.”
“Ooh,” Brittany remarked in anticipation, “put those thoughts back in your box. I have something to say first.”
Santana waited expectantly.
Brittany seemed to lose her nerve, “But, first, I’ve got this raw steak which we’re going to dip in boiling chocolate.” She dipped her meat square in the boiling brown liquid, but before she could pop it in her mouth, Santana grabbed the morsel and threw it on her plate, while hissing in pain and throwing an accusatory look to the camera.
Brittany grabbed Santana’s hand and licked off the chocolate. Santana turned back with a look of lust. “So, since we haven’t flagged this video for mature content, maybe we should move on to whatever it was you were going to say?”
Brittany grabbed Santana’s hands. “Santana, you are by far the hottest girl in school. And the nicest. Apparently, it’s just to me, but I’m totally cool with it. And you’re like super-brave because you don’t care that everyone knows how completely gay you are. And I know you’d do anything to protect me, because I’ve heard some of the things you tell the footballs players you’ll do to them if they ever thought about slushying me. I’m, like, half-mad at you for saying mean things, but at the same time, I think it’s super-sweet. I love you so much sometimes that my legs get twitchy and I feel like I pulled that muscle between my boobs and all I want to squish my face into yours and never stop.”
Frankly, I want to be so happy I could cry, but damn if my girl isn’t just too adorable for that.
Brittany took a deep breath before asking… “Will you marry me?”
Santana didn’t say anything for a while, her expression not changing. She looked at the camera. At first, she seemed kind of frustrated at whatever the camerawoman was doing. She turned back and whispered, “Is that really what you meant to ask me?”
Brittany thought for a second. “No, I meant to ask… Will you go to prom with me?”
Santana smiled. “Mmm, yes,” she answered plainly, following it up with, “yes, yes, yes. Yes yes yes yes yes. Yes.” She leaned forward and pressed a peck onto Brittany’s lips. “And yes.”
Brittany bounced in her seat, turning back to the camera. “Guess what, everybody? I have a date for prom and she’s more awesome that whatever loser you’re going with.” She grabbed Santana’s face again, but after a second Santana swatted her hands away, reminding her about the rating again.
“So, going back, is there anything you’d like to tell the people at home?”
Santana turned to the camera, put on her Cheerio smile again, and said, “Vote Santana and Brittany for prom queens.” Her face went blank after that.
Brittany’s brow furrowed. “So, that’s all the time we have for today. Make sure to tune in next time for more Fondue for Two. I’ve invited Jennifer Love Hewitt to talk to the ghosts whose graves McKinley High is built on top of. Don’t forget to subsidize.”
Brittany’s mom turned off the camera and told the girls. “I’ll leave you two girls alone. And, remember, Brittany, now that I know Santana’s your girlfriend, the bedroom door rule applies. Keep it closed.”
When they were alone, Brittany remarked, “I didn’t realize you were going to do that.”
Santana was reeling. “Me, neither. It was kind of off-the-cuff. I don’t even know why I did it,” she rambled, “Listen, there’s no way the school will actually elect two girls as prom royalty. And I don’t care, really.”
But maybe I do. Fabray doesn’t deserve all the glory.
“So, um, I need to go find Lord Tubbington. He was supposed to be a guest with you, but I think the fame went to his head because he locked himself in the green room and I haven’t been able to wash my hair.” Brittany’s bathroom was decorated with lime-green wallpaper.
“Okay,” Santana replied, “Can I come over here tonight? My folks have a very different bedroom door rule and they’ve started to make rounds of the downstairs.”
Brittany studied at her girlfriend for several seconds before answering. “Yeah, but bring a flashlight this time. If you step on Charity’s tail again, I’ll have to move to the guest room. Her lawyer is very sneaky.”
* * *
On one side of the table in the faculty lunchroom sat Carl and Emma; on the other, Will and Holly.
“We’ve got a proposition for you,” Carl stated.
“Is this going where I think it’s going?” Holly asked, “’Cause I now I don’t think it’s going there anymore. But I would have been game.”
Before anyone at the table could muddle her meaning, Will remarked, “What’s the proposition, Carl?”
“Well, there was a miscommunication in our wedding planning.”
“Ooh, is that on again?” Holly asked.
“Yes,” Emma hissed.
Carl cleared his throat. “Anyway, when I was doing the wedding planning, I may have made a sizable deposit for a very talented Beach Boys cover band which I later found out was non-refundable…”
“And in my haste to replace most of Carl’s lovely but anxiety-causing ideas, I may have spent the rest of our music budget on a band that apparently only exists on the Internet.”
“Consequently, unless we were to change the reception dinner to microwave waffles and fried chicken by the bucket, we can’t exactly pay anyone, so we were wondering if you two would be willing to be our wedding singers… for gratis.”
Will and Holly looked at each other and looked back at the other couple. Will answered, “Absolutely. It would be our pleasure. Think of it as our wedding gift to the lucky couple.”
“Were we invited?” Holly wondered.
“Yes,” Emma answered immediately.
“Yes,” Carl echoed reluctantly a second later.
“We haven’t sent out save-the-dates yet,” Emma tacked on.
“I’m actually surprised you didn’t want to show off your own talent, Carl,” Will joked.
“Well,” Carl replied, grinning with pride, “the thought of singing a love song in place of my vows did cross my mind, but I figured it was a kind of tacky, 90s thing to do.”
“Don’t worry, you two, we’ll make sure to assemble a full suite of classic love songs.” Will started to restlessly bounce in his seat and his mind began to wander.
“You were right, M&M,” Carl noted, seeing Will’s enthusiasm, “he was the right guy to ask.”
Will was only woken by the buzz of his cell phone. “Oh, geez, it’s April. She wanted me to run through a song for her musical with her. I gotta run,” he kissed Holly on the cheek, pressed a hand to Emma’s shoulder, and quickly shook Carl’s hand.
“Yeah, I got to get going, too,” Carl explained, “I left a patient in the chair. Always a pleasure seeing you again, Ms. Holliday.”
“Holly, please.”
Emma and Holly were left alone. After an awkward second, Emma spoke up, “So, I think we both know Will is completely trustworthy, but I would watch April. She’s kind of…”
“Blond and floozy? Don’t worry; I know the type.”
“Okay, then,” Emma replied. After another awkward second, “You know, I’m actually starting to find the breakfast foods at your wedding idea kind of intriguing. It would save a lot of money in catering and I know a hotel food service company with a perfect health record.”
* * *
“Mr. Schue,” Sam announced at the start of glee, “I have my song ready.” Rather than sitting by Quinn as usual, he was seated next to Puck.
“Go ahead, Sam,” Will replied, noticing his choice of seating.
Sam took his guitar up, caressing the ridge before he started playing a quick, complex melody, tapping the soundboard percussively.
The Chain - Fleetwood Mac
Listen to the wind blow,
Watch the sun rise
Run in the shadows
Damn your love, damn your lies
And if you don’t love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain
And if you don’t love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain
Several of his classmates, notably Rachel and Puck, familiar with the song from experience or the assignment, sang the countermelody. Quinn did not.
Chain… keeps us together
(run into the shadows)
Chain… keeps us together
(run into the shadows)
Chain… keeps us together
(run into the shadows)
At the end of the song, Sam simply stared at Quinn with sadness.
“Sam…”
“Save it, Quinn. I saw you glancing at him.”
“I was shooting daggers at him for singing along.”
“Obviously he understood the meaning of the song.”
“Obviously he doesn’t.”
Puck spoke up. “‘The Chain’ isn’t about bondage?”
Sam closed his eyes, perhaps fighting tears. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He yanked off his guitar and laid it on the piano to Brad’s ire, and stormed out.
“Sam!” Quinn cried out.
Mercedes put her hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Go after him.”
Quinn turned back and replied, “Thanks. You’re a good friend, Mercedes.” And with that, she raced out the door.
* * *
Santana was doodling on a pink Post-It note at her locker, writing ‘B + S’ above a sideways figure-eight inside a heart when the shadows came, encompassing her in darkness like a solar eclipse. She spun in place to be greeted by several football players, led by Azimio and Stromboli (or whatever his name was). Santana was quick to bark. “So, Puckerman and Berry are on guard duty today. That’s a one-two punch to your jaws and ears.”
“No, no, no, Princess Latifah. We’re just here as fans,” Azimio said with an air of insincerity, “You’re practically an Internet phenomenon now. In fact, we’re all just waiting for the behind-the-scenes cut of your appearance on your girlfriend’s gossip show. You know, where the good stuff is.”
“Go to hell,” Santana spat.
“Whoa, whoa, don’t be like that. Me and the boys here were just discussing how you’re totally publicizing yourself wrong. Last semester, Puck was bragging about the private show you and Jessica Simpson gave. If you’d drop the feminazi act and embrace the more… appealing side of your lesbian-ness, you’d be the Oprah of this school.”
Any drive to vivisect Azimio on the spot was overloaded by his suggestion. “That’s an interesting proposition. But I’m not a porn star.”
“You don’t have to be Jenna Jameson,” Spammo noted, “We’ll settle for a little Megan Fox if we don’t have to suffer Janeane Garofalo anymore.”
“No more slushies? No more demeaning yet uncreative nicknames?”
“Think big, L-Word. Didn’t you announce you and your little lemon bar’s run for double prom queen?”
“You’d vote for us just to watch us make out on stage?”
“Get a little handsy,” Spiro bargained, “And we’ll make sure you win by a landslide.”
Santana considered the offer for a moment. “Hey, it worked for Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears, didn’t it?”
The football players laughed and dispersed, leaving Santana alone, or rather, alone minus one person. Brittany stood in place, her face blank.
“Britt, what are you doing here?”
She just pointed to the space to Santana’s right. “My locker’s right there.” After a moment, she added, “Duh.”
“That’s true,” Santana replied, buying time, “You’re pissed, aren’t you?”
“No,” Brittany lied.
“Yes, you are. I can tell.”
“Well, why shouldn’t I be?” she remarked angrily.
It wasn’t often that Santana felt the need to take a step back, cornering her against her locker. “B, I just joking with them. And even if I wasn’t, what’s the big deal?”
“Santana, when we started dating, it didn’t make us any closer. You’re still my best friend. We still have our sweet lady kisses and everything. What it was supposed to do was make us not for-show anymore. We’re supposed to be real.”
“We are.”
“But you just told those boys we were running for prom queens together. You didn’t ask me if I wanted to do that, so I guess you think I’m just a giant Barbie doll that you carry around.”
“Brittany, if you don’t want to run, we won’t, okay? I don’t care about the race. They were just saying they would vote for us if we did. Hasn’t this year been all about me being nice to people and making friends?”
Brittany bit her lip and bowed her head. “It’s an easy way to make yourself popular, and it’s not right. I know the difference between you making real friends and you making Facebook friends. I get confused a lot by the way things are, but you were supposed to be the only person who did use that to get your way.”
Brittany walked away without another word. Santana was literally shivering with self-loathing, and she punched the locker between hers and Brittany’s hard enough to make an impression. “Ow,” she growled, shaking her hand and making plans to visit the nurse’s office.
Her mood was not improved by seeing Quinn and Sam over their fight.
Quinn laid a kiss on Sam’s lips. “So, we’re putting this whole ugly rumor thing behind us? You know this Puck thing is in the past?”
“Yeah,” Sam replied, “I’m sorry I was so jealous, Quinn. I just love you so much and it just seemed to make sense. I mean, what do I have with you that Puck didn’t?”
Quinn held up her hand. “You have a ring on my finger. Puck… was just a bad-boy phase I had the summer before sophomore year that I was tethered to for two trimesters. The six months we’ve shared, I chose to be with you.”
“Forgive me?”
“I was never mad,” Quinn replied, giving him another kiss.
“I’ve got geometry. See you tonight, lor ‘eve.”
Quinn giggled. In such a good mood, she politely asked Becky Jackson for a copy of The Muckraker. “Vote Quinn Fabray for Prom Queen.”
“Good luck with that. I think Santana is going to win.”
Quinn didn’t even hear this, because because the rest of the world faded away as she read the day’s headline: “Blondie Does Walk of Shame from Former Head Cheerio’s House”.
* * *
Author’s Notes: Also, I love writing April’s dialogue.
There’s no consistent fanon on Brittany’s mom’s name, so I went with my own, “Margo.” She would be played by Lisa Kudrow, so the “F” in her name stands for “Phoebe”, obviously.
Anyone else also intrigued by serving breakfast at your wedding? Think about it: Belgian waffles, Eggs Benedict, fruits, sausages. It’s unique and quirky. And vegetarian/vegan/kosher meals are a breeze.
Chapter 24: Blondie Does Walk of Shame
Author: creedogv
Rating: T
Summary: Santana was given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, and she succeeded, but now she’s haunted by dreams that drive her to continue righting wrongs. When the rumors start flying, every relationship she’s tried so hard to fix is about to get rocky.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Word Count: ~6700
Spoilers: 2x189 “Rumours”
Author’s Note: The chapter count went up again, because I’m breaking “Fondue for Couples” into two separate chapters.
VOLUME 1 Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6-1 Chapter 6-2 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16-1 Chapter 16-2 Chapter 17-1 Chapter 17-2 Chapter 18-1 Chapter 18-2 Chapter 19 VOLUME 2 Chapter 20 Chapter 21-1 Chapter 21-2 Chapter 22-1 Chapter 22-2
* * *
So here’s what you missed on Glee. Santana tries to stop Finn from breaking Rachel’s nose, but she ends up doing it herself. Ouch! Anyway, to encourage Rachel to skip the nose job, Mr. Schue and Holly Holliday decide to have the “Born This Way” week. Santana is totally into showing off the fact that she “LIKES GIRLS”, which is probably why she decides to nudge Karofsky out of the closet. Quinn’s still dating Sam, but sometimes it seems like she only wants him to win prom queen. Speaking of which, Santana is helping Quinn with her campaign, because she knows she can’t run because she’s with Brittany. She tries to dissuade Karofsky from running, but he totally misses the point of her argument and becomes Lauren Zizes’ running mate. He also joins the GayLesbAll and helps with their anti-bullying league. Didn’t see that coming. In the end, Santana and Kurt know he’s not ready to come out, but they think he just might be ready to come out in a different way: as someone who “LOVES TO DANCE”. But, at the end of the day, there’s only one dance-lover that Santana really cares about, Brittany: “I was so proud of you.” And that’s what you missed on… Glee!
* * *
“I heard a rumor that Santana plays for the other team. And I can confirm that rumor. It’s a hundred percent true.”
Santana was a little irked to say the least to wake and realize that her girlfriend, in another universe, had publically outed her on the “Fondue For Two” webseries that she was currently developing in this universe, too.
So, for the first time in quite a while, Santana found herself sneaking out of Brittany’s room without waking her to say good-bye.
* * *
“You’re mad at me,” Brittany remarked pitifully at their lockers the next morning.
“No, I’m not,” Santana lied. It’s not like I have any right to be.
“I can tell when you’re lying.”
She sighed. “It’s stupid.”
“That’s a no-no word.”
“I’ll put a quarter in the no-no box, which by the way, we need to either rename or choose a new type of container.” She admitted, “I had a bad dream. I was still in the closet and you told everybody that I played for the other team.”
“Are we talking about the gay closet and the lesbian team, or like the place your keep your overalls and the glee team?”
Santana looked down at the overalls she was indeed sporting. “Good question. Let’s say the first one. If I was still scared, dating Puck or Sam or-God forbid-Karofsky… or something,” she added dismissively, “…would you tell people that I was faking it?”
“No way. You were so scared at first when Jacob and Coach told everybody. I was like even trying to help you keep it a secret, remember?”
Santana did remember Brittany’s attempt at beard-growing, as it had caused a lot of tension in their relationship. “But what if it was now and I still wouldn’t tell anyone?”
Brittany struggled to answer, “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to hurt you, but I think maybe, well, what if I thought you were hurting yourself more by hiding? I love you and I just want to do whatever makes you happiest.”
Santana’s mouth curved into a sad smile. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Plus,” Brittany added, “Everyone at this school thinks my head’s full of Play-Doh. I don’t think anyone would believe me.”
Santana nodded. “I promise I’ll stop getting mad at you about thinks Dream-Brittany does.”
“I understand. Lord Tubbington forgave me when I caught Dream-Tubby eating macaroni salad.” Seeing Santana’s mood improving, she grabbed her girlfriend’s hand. “So, how many brownie points did I win?”
Santana grinned. “Mmm… eight.”
“Is that enough for me to ask you to film Episode 1 of Fondue for Two? My mom has to work the late shift tonight.”
“With some to spare.”
* * *
Fondue for Two!
Fondue for Two!
Some hot dish!
Fondue for Two!
“Hi, I’m Brittany S. Pierce. And this is my new Internet talk show, Fondue for Two, which combines the two things I like most: hot cheese and talking to people. My first two guests are the school’s biggest gossips: Mercedes Jones and Miss Tina Cohen-Chang. Also, my beautiful girlfriend, Santana J. Lopez, will be running the camera.”
“‘Sup, bitches.”
Brittany glared at the camera and cleared her throat. “So, let’s get down to some hot dish. I heard a rumor that Assistant Principal Figgins in secretly in a cult that worships Saved by the Bell character Zack Morris.”
Mercedes spat out a piece of bread into her napkin. “Oh my god, that’s hot,” she whined, “Is this really what they were doing in the Seventies?”
“Is that how they were dressing in the Seventies, Brittany?” Tina teased.
“Hey,” Santana said, off-camera, “don’t insult my girl’s impeccable fashion sense. I will go all Lima Heights on your skinny Asian ass.”
Brittany made a few angry, clipped noises at the camera. “Moving on, Mercedes, can you confirm the rumor about Indian men?”
Mercedes’s eyes opened to the size of saucers. “Uh, Raj and I have only been on three dates. How fast do you go?”
“Don’t answer that, Hot Stuff,” Santana warned.
Brittany just winked wickedly at the camera, thrusting a coy shoulder forward.
“Can I second that?”
Tina tried to get things back on track. “I didn’t realize there was a rumor about Indian men.”
“Isn’t the rumor that they sing songs to make girls fall in love with them? That’s what happened in all the Wallyworld movies Artie showed me when he was trying to ‘expound my cultured liaisons’.”
A faint growl could be heard. “Do you have a dog, Brittany?” Tina asked.
Mercedes answered the question, “Well, yes, Raj has sung to me as part of his very successful pledge to make me his girlfriend…” she admitted giddily before shifting back to a semi-serious tone, “…but I want to point out that’s an indicator of him being a singer, not of him being of Indian descent.”
Brittany was already bored of the topic at hand. “Moving on, I heard a rumor that Quinn still has feelings for Puck. And I can confirm that; it’s a hundred percent true.”
Tina and Mercedes’ shocked glances were almost not caught by the camera due to a sudden shaking of the frame.
“Uh, excuse me?”
“Brittany, why would you…? Are you sure…?”
“Uh-huh,” Brittany remarked worriedly. The silence was broken by the mewing of Brittany’s mammoth cat, Lord Tubbington, which Brittany was miraculously able to pick up. She introduced him to the camera and placed him on a chair behind her, where he began to hump a yellow-haired cheerleader doll.
“Uh, so that’s happening,” Mercedes pointed out.
“It’s okay. Lord Tubbington and Lady Charity have an open relationship.” She leaned in and held her hand up to the side of her mouth, to block the comment from her portly cat, and whispered, “Lord T has a crush on me-you know, an Edith Head Complex-but since he can’t date me-”
“’Cuz she’s my girl,” Santana called out from behind that camera.
“That’s right,” Brittany replied, winking. “Since he can’t date me, he’s allowed to have an affair with Little Bit-Bit the Cheerio.”
Tina jumped in, “Can I discuss the fact that Mike doesn’t have a small-”
“’Kay, well, that’s all the time we have for today. Tune in next week for a Fondue for Two where we’ll be the vicious rumor about mayor of Lima mailing badgers from the Ottawa to New Hampshire.”
* * *
The next morning, the three former Cheerios in the choir room were a sight to behold. Quinn was attempting to charge forward in a rage, but was being held back by Santana, whose arms encircled the blonde’s torso. Her target was Brittany, half-cowering and half-pouting at Quinn from behind a chair.
“Seriously, Q, this is kind of my gimmick,” Santana managed to joke through teeth clenched with exertion.
“You told everyone I still have feelings for Puck?!” Quinn screamed, “Why would you say that?!”
“You do have feelings for Puck. You have angry feelings because he wrecked your body by sneaking a baby into your belly.”
Quinn threw Santana off but didn’t continue her charge. Her yelling continued, though. “And you couldn’t have clarified that?!”
“I don’t have allergies,” she mumbled in reply.
“Brittany! I have a boyfriend now. Who isn’t Puck. Who is now very jealous because he thinks I’m harboring feelings for my ex-boyfriend. What if I told the whole school Santana was still in love with Puck? How would you feel?”
“I’d feel like you’re a crazy person. Santana was never in love with Puck. Were you?”
“Pssh, no,” Santana replied, indignant.
“Ugh!” Quinn groaned before stomping to the door, “Don’t worry, Brittany. I’ll clean up after your mess, like always.”
Santana turned back to Brittany, who meekly commented, “She was really pissed. I didn’t think she was that into Sam.”
“Maybe it’s about the prom queen race? She probably thinks a love triangle might hurt her chances.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” Santana nodded, but Brittany remained silent. Now sitting in the chair that had been her shield, she made a come-here gesture. “Santana, there’s other people in the room.” She pointed with her thumb at the rest of the glee club, who were all watching the proceedings with rapt attention. Santana acquiesced and took a seat by her girlfriend.
After Brittany whispered into her ear, Santana face showed surprise. “Wow, well, you’d be the expert.” She brushed a stray lock of Brittany’s hair behind her ear. “Maybe keep that on the down-low for now, okay?” She noticed that her fellow glee clubbers were still staring. “Okay, New Directions, let’s address the giant elephant in the room.” After watching their expectant expressions, she announced, “Mike and Tina, I hear you two took the Oriental Express all the way to Bootytown. Let’s give them a round of applause, folks.”
Santana clapped her hands. Brittany automatically joined in, as did Rachel, whose instinct was to always join in on applause in case it was for her. Mercedes soon joined too to give her best friend a hard time, and Puck and Finn slapped their buddy on the back. Mike and Tina blushed several shades of crimson.
* * *
Will and Holly were sharing at pizza at his apartment when there was a loud persistent knocking on his door, accompanied by even louder, beckoning “Whoo-hoo!” calls. The moment he opened his door, something short and blonde threw itself into his arms. April Rhodes politely crawled down his body. “Well, hey there, Handsome. I thought I’d drop by and see my favorite show choir director.” She smiled flirtatiously until she noticed Holly’s form hovering down the hallway. Immediately she shoved him aside and scuttled to the taller woman. “Well, doodle-lee-bee and ex-cuse me, is there a lady of the house now?”
Will cleared his throat. “Not exactly. Holly, meet April Rhodes. April, this is Holly Holliday, my girlfriend, fellow educator, and glee co-director.”
April chuckled showily. “Well, your mama must have been as tipsy as I am right now when she slapped that moniker on you.” She lowered her voice and stage whispered, “I of course meant in the epidural sense; I’m not at all suggesting your mother would have been on libations during childbirth, like my ma was, else you’d be touched in the head. I’m just kidding not really. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Ex-girlfriend of yours?” Holly calmly asked her boyfriend.
“No.”
“Eh…” April traitorously disagreed.
“April is a former classmate of mine.”
“…who he dug something fierce.”
“In high school, yes,” he reiterated. “April is the one who purchased the auditorium for us.”
Holly nodded. “So that’s why it’s the called the Whatsherface Civil Center?”
“’Gain, it’s April Rhodes, and you’d be wise notta forget it, ya hear me, peach?”
Will gestured toward the living room. “So, April, come have a seat with us. You can tell us how it’s going on Broadway.”
“Well, I can tell ya it’s going just awful. My all-white production of The Wiz? Bombed.” She made the accompanying miming gesture and sound effect. The gesture was seamlessly followed up by her hand scooping Will’s glass of wine up.
Holly wondered aloud, “Well, wouldn’t that just be The Wizard of the Oz, except with rapping white people? That’s never a welcome addition.” She eyed Will playfully, who glared in response. “Maybe I was talking about Artie,” she defended herself.
“Wow, Will, you got a feisty one here. Good for you. In fact, can somebody hand me a knife to cut the sexual tension in this room? Far too many sexy people in this here apartment.” She gave Will, then Holly, the once-over. “But, seriously,” she added, “can someone get me a knife? I wanna dig into this scrumptious-lookin’ pizza from my favorite neighborhood pizza parlor the old days, Alfredo’s, but I needs me to cut one of these slices in half. Gotta watch my womanly figure, you know what I’m talking about,” she indicated to Holly, who nodded politely. “So, what’s the topic du jour, or should I say, topic du… noctem?”
“Sue Sylvester… you remember her, the cheerleading coach?”
“Do I.”
“Well, it’s now Principal Sue Sylvester, and she’s restarted the school newspaper.”
“I’m assuming you mean The Muckraker? A free-spirited girl like me would be celebratory, but of course a fuddy-duddy like you would have your sexy, aggravated voice on. Now if it were The Olympian coming back, you’d be beside yourself with joy at that dull old rag.”
Holly jumped in, “We thought the whispering and backstabbings-”
“…the love triangles,” Will added.
“…and questions of sexuality had died down, but the rumor mill has reignited all the drama. I’d enjoy this live-action The Real Housewives of Lima if we weren’t trying to get these kids ready for Nationals.”
“Oh, yeah, I heard! Just ‘cuz I’ve been living the dream in the Big Apple don’t mean I don’t keep up with the Lima happenings. Congrats. So, back to your problems: sounds like your club’s got a touch of the Mac.”
“The what?”
“Fleetwood Mac! They fought all the time. But instead of breaking up, they put that drama to good use and wrote great music.”
Will grinned. “You know, I think I might have Rumours on LP somewhere.”
“Of course he does,” April muttered.
“Of course you do,” Holly muttered in unison.
“Doesn’t everybody?” April remarked aloud at Will’s already retreating form. “Not me. Sold my for drugs. Kidding nope I actually did that.”
“Condoms,” Holly volunteered. April grabbed Holly’s glass of wine and toasted her.
From the record player, Will remarked, “You know, I’ve wanted to do a whole lesson devoted to a single album for a long time.”
“He loves his theme weeks,” Holly explained.
As the music started playing, April noted, “You know, I’d love to help out. Can I borrow your boyfriend for a little ditty?”
* * *
“Now here you go again/You say you want your freedom…” April sang. Quinn knew she was just slinging her arm to point at the group as a whole, but she couldn’t help but feel April was for some reason singing to her. She bowed her heads and tried to keep her eyes away from Sam’s shoes.
“Well, who am I to keep you down?” She plopped down in Artie’s lap, thinking the frowning boy need a pick-me-up.
“It’s only right that you should/Play the way you feel it…” Kurt cheerily bounced in his seat, bumping his shoulder with a rather melancholy-looking Mercedes. Mike and Tina likewise danced in their seats.
“But listen carefully to the sound/Of your loneliness…” Puck, whose mind had drifted to past happy memories of April, now began to frown. He turned to his side, seeing Artie looking similar downcast, so he held up a fist for Artie to bump, which he did weakly.
The melody began to pick up, and April belted a little bit. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad/In the stillness of remembering…” Quinn bit her bottom lip as she shifted her weight away from Sam.
“What you had/And what you lost/And what you had/And what you lost…” April sung, with Will on back-up. Artie hazard a glance to where Brittany sat, leaning against Santana, was tapping Quinn on the shoulder, whispering something to her. Mercedes watched this gloomily.
“Oh, thunder only happens when it’s raining…” they sang loudly. Rachel playfully leaned over into Finn’s lap, soundlessly laughing. Finn grinned down at his girlfriend before turning to his stepbrother, who was mouthing the words. He softly slugged him on the arm. Kurt slugged Finn back on the knee.
“Players only love you when they’re playing…” Mercedes slouched over in her seat, crossing her arms protectively around herself.
“Say, women…they will come and they will go…” Sam noticed that his girlfriend had shifted over several inches away from him, with a troubled look on his face.
“When the rain washes you clean, you’ll know/You’ll know…” Will and April sang together, while Holly, seated on the piano bench beside Brad, frowned.
* * *
Mercedes slipped out of Ms. Holliday’s health lesson, the look of illness on her face subtly morphing into a look of guilt. Skipping class was just another layer on top of her quickly accumulating stack of sins. She snuck into the girls’ locker room and dialed a number. Even though the room would be empty for at least twenty more minutes, she still huddled up into a corner and spoke softly.
“Hey, Luke, it’s Mercedes. I caught you between classes, right?” She jerked away from the phone. “Oh, so you saw that stupid fondue show already?” She listened for a minute and proceeded with the half-truths. “He’s a guy I met through a mutual friend. It wasn’t supposed to be… I-I didn’t realize I was being set up.” She listened for a little while. “No, that’s not why I called. I was hoping to catch you before and do this right… You can tell them whatever you want. I’m sorry this didn’t…” She pulled her phone away, looking at the ‘CALL DISCONNECTED’ screen. “…work out.”
Deciding that was enough calling for today, she pulled up Raj’s number on her phone and composed a text message, which she rewrote no less than three times.
“I need a pity party. Or an ‘I-told-you-so’ party.” She scrolled through her contact list and stopped at ‘Fabray’. “Damn. Haven’t talked to her in like a month. God, I’m a worse friend than girlfriend.”
She scrolled further and reached ‘Kurt’. Her best friend was an ideal candidate, but lately all their get-togethers included both Blaine and Santana and, recently, Brittany. She now realized that she’d put Blaine in an awkward position. And she half-blamed Santana for the mess she was in. And it was Brittany’s dumb show that started this mess (and burned her tongue, which was still numb).
She scrolled past Santana’s name, resolving again to procrastinate about changing her listing from ‘Satan’ and replacing the profile picture with something not graffitied with devil horns.
‘Tina C.’ popped up and Mercedes reasoned there was no conflict of interest there, so she typed out a quick message.
The reply came: ‘Can’t, date w mike tonite.’
‘Cancel. I’ll pay for ur next date. Really need u.’ followed up with, ‘Boy trouble.’
After a minute, Tina replied, ‘Ok, we were staying in anyway.’
‘Tmi.’ then ‘Thx.’
* * *
And the songbirds keep singing,
Like they know the score,
And I love you, I love you, I love you,
Like never before, like never before
Santana was reliving her dream. Every detail was the same. Brad was playing the piano. She wore the same off-the-shoulder white blouse. Brittany was even wearing an orange floral wrap-dress-Santana had laid out the outfit before she snuck out that morning. She was crying; Brittany was crying.
Okay, some of the details aren’t the same. Brittany was smiling through her tears and when the song was over, she didn’t challenge Santana about not singing in front of everyone because… because she did sing it in front of everyone. Though ‘everyone’ was remaining eerily silent after the song.
Brittany hopped up from her seat and pressed her lips into Santana’s. She held the kiss for quite a while and Santana made no move to break it.
“Uh…” Puck was the first to break the silence. “You two keep doing that, ‘cause it’s really hot to watch. So, Lopez, you’re my girl; that song was rockin’ and heartfelt and all that shit…”
“Still wondering if I’m still into him?” Quinn asked Sam.
Puck continued as if he had overheard, “…but I’m not gonna lie; I was kind of suffocating on the love vibes there. I think that could have waited until you ladies were alone. And, added benefit: that hot mackin’ that’s still happening…” which indeed it was, “…could lead to its necessary conclusion.”
Santana pulled away. “Well, I’ll be singing it plenty to my girl in private. But just in case anyone was wondering how into this gorgeous lady I am, now you know.”
“Do you think that was directed at me?” Artie whispered to Puck.
Holly stated, “Santana, I can’t tell you how beautiful that was. I think someone is in the running for a solo for Nationals.” When Rachel huffed at the sentiment, Holly remarked, “Oh, bayita, you were never not in the running.”
Santana snorted a laugh, which she excused as a breathing exercise.
“Puck, Artie, I believe you said you had a duet for us?” Mr. Schue asked, realizing the need to keep things moving.
“Sure do, Mr. Schue,” Puck answered, as he and Artie grouped on the floor with their guitars.
Second Hand News - Fleetwood Mac
I know there’s nothing to say
Someone has taken my place
When times go bad
When times go rough
Won’t you lay me down in tall grass
And let me do my stuff
One thing I think you should know
I ain’t gonna miss you when you go
Been down so long
I’ve been tossed around enough
Couldn’t you just
Let me go down and do my stuff
I’m just second hand news
I’m just second hand news
“Very good, guys,” Will congratulated.
“Speaking of songs being directed…” Santana growled.
“Not everyone’s world revolves around your girlfriend, Santana.” Brittany’s head jerked about until Artie told her, “Brittany, our thing is long over, and we’ve both moved on, and I like to assume we’re still friends.”
Puck clarified, “Artie and I were singing about our most recent breakups: mine with Lauren…”
“…and mine with Genevieve.”
“Aw, what happened?” Tina asked sympathetically.
“It’s a long… odd story.”
* * *
Slap. Artie’s head jerked to the side. “Whoa, woman, when I agreed to roleplay the first time, I was expecting something a little different.”
“I was telegraphing my actions very clearly. It isn’t my fault that your predisposition to method acting due to your background in film rather than the stage makes your reflexes weak. Might I recommend karate?”
“My kicks have all the liveliness of a corpse. Can you remind me what we’re fighting about again? I forgot my script.”
“I have my suspicions that you’re cheating on me.”
“You do realize that the misconception of cheating is a staple among all mediums of fictions?”
Genevieve replied immediately, “You do realize that when one character replies to an accusation with a deflection instead of a denial it implies guilt?”
Artie was blindsided. “I forgot your special brand of crazy comes with quick-wittedness. I’m used to the opposite.”
“So, who is she?”
“For what it’s worth, I didn’t cheat; I just flirted with a girl who did glee a solid.”
“I’m sorry. Just because I choose to be overdramatic doesn’t mean I can’t choose not to be overjealous. They’re mutually inclusive.”
“I’ve got to say, Genny, dating you was never dull. Can we still be friends?”
Genevieve slapped him again.
“Could you have at least smacked my other cheek?”
“Would Jesus turn the other cheek?” Genevieve asked before stomping off.
Artie spun in his wheelchair and called after her. “Yes! Yes, he would! If you’re going to live your life arbitrarily according random proverbs, make sure you don’t mishear them!” But by then she was too far away. He mused to himself, “I wonder if I could have tricked her with an elaborate lie based on the plot of A Comedy of Errors.”
* * *
Fondue for Two!
Fondue for Two!
Some hot dish!
Fondue for Two!
“Hello again. I’m Brittany S. Pierce, and this is the second episode of my Internet talk show, Fondue for Two, which combines the two things I like most: melted chocolate and flirting with attractive people. My first guest today is someone very special to me: my beautiful, sexy, super-badass, super-gay girlfriend Santana Lopez. Since she can’t run the camera, my mother, Margo F. Pierce, has taken her place.”
Santana knew in advance why Brittany had invited her to her webshow, but she knew the girl loved giving surprises, so she was acting oblivious, grinning her award-winning Cheerio’s smile.
Brittany’s mom called out sweetly from behind the camera, “You’re doing great, Sweetie. And I didn’t know you two girls were together.”
Santana’s smile disappeared. “You didn’t tell your mom we were dating? The day after we got together, I had to endure a conversation with my folks that was even more awkward than when I came out.”
“I kept forgetting to tell her,” Brittany excused herself, “there’s a new rug in the living room and it’s so pretty that I stare at it for like ten minutes every time I get home, so I always forget to tell anyone about my day.”
“So, do you want me to spread some gossip?” Santana baited, “I’m pretty sure Jenny Fitzpatrick is pregnant by that football player Kevin Mambo or whatever. Oh, and Coach Delmonico has been using her office for something very illegal, but it’s not what you think.”
“Ooh,” Brittany remarked in anticipation, “put those thoughts back in your box. I have something to say first.”
Santana waited expectantly.
Brittany seemed to lose her nerve, “But, first, I’ve got this raw steak which we’re going to dip in boiling chocolate.” She dipped her meat square in the boiling brown liquid, but before she could pop it in her mouth, Santana grabbed the morsel and threw it on her plate, while hissing in pain and throwing an accusatory look to the camera.
Brittany grabbed Santana’s hand and licked off the chocolate. Santana turned back with a look of lust. “So, since we haven’t flagged this video for mature content, maybe we should move on to whatever it was you were going to say?”
Brittany grabbed Santana’s hands. “Santana, you are by far the hottest girl in school. And the nicest. Apparently, it’s just to me, but I’m totally cool with it. And you’re like super-brave because you don’t care that everyone knows how completely gay you are. And I know you’d do anything to protect me, because I’ve heard some of the things you tell the footballs players you’ll do to them if they ever thought about slushying me. I’m, like, half-mad at you for saying mean things, but at the same time, I think it’s super-sweet. I love you so much sometimes that my legs get twitchy and I feel like I pulled that muscle between my boobs and all I want to squish my face into yours and never stop.”
Frankly, I want to be so happy I could cry, but damn if my girl isn’t just too adorable for that.
Brittany took a deep breath before asking… “Will you marry me?”
Santana didn’t say anything for a while, her expression not changing. She looked at the camera. At first, she seemed kind of frustrated at whatever the camerawoman was doing. She turned back and whispered, “Is that really what you meant to ask me?”
Brittany thought for a second. “No, I meant to ask… Will you go to prom with me?”
Santana smiled. “Mmm, yes,” she answered plainly, following it up with, “yes, yes, yes. Yes yes yes yes yes. Yes.” She leaned forward and pressed a peck onto Brittany’s lips. “And yes.”
Brittany bounced in her seat, turning back to the camera. “Guess what, everybody? I have a date for prom and she’s more awesome that whatever loser you’re going with.” She grabbed Santana’s face again, but after a second Santana swatted her hands away, reminding her about the rating again.
“So, going back, is there anything you’d like to tell the people at home?”
Santana turned to the camera, put on her Cheerio smile again, and said, “Vote Santana and Brittany for prom queens.” Her face went blank after that.
Brittany’s brow furrowed. “So, that’s all the time we have for today. Make sure to tune in next time for more Fondue for Two. I’ve invited Jennifer Love Hewitt to talk to the ghosts whose graves McKinley High is built on top of. Don’t forget to subsidize.”
Brittany’s mom turned off the camera and told the girls. “I’ll leave you two girls alone. And, remember, Brittany, now that I know Santana’s your girlfriend, the bedroom door rule applies. Keep it closed.”
When they were alone, Brittany remarked, “I didn’t realize you were going to do that.”
Santana was reeling. “Me, neither. It was kind of off-the-cuff. I don’t even know why I did it,” she rambled, “Listen, there’s no way the school will actually elect two girls as prom royalty. And I don’t care, really.”
But maybe I do. Fabray doesn’t deserve all the glory.
“So, um, I need to go find Lord Tubbington. He was supposed to be a guest with you, but I think the fame went to his head because he locked himself in the green room and I haven’t been able to wash my hair.” Brittany’s bathroom was decorated with lime-green wallpaper.
“Okay,” Santana replied, “Can I come over here tonight? My folks have a very different bedroom door rule and they’ve started to make rounds of the downstairs.”
Brittany studied at her girlfriend for several seconds before answering. “Yeah, but bring a flashlight this time. If you step on Charity’s tail again, I’ll have to move to the guest room. Her lawyer is very sneaky.”
* * *
On one side of the table in the faculty lunchroom sat Carl and Emma; on the other, Will and Holly.
“We’ve got a proposition for you,” Carl stated.
“Is this going where I think it’s going?” Holly asked, “’Cause I now I don’t think it’s going there anymore. But I would have been game.”
Before anyone at the table could muddle her meaning, Will remarked, “What’s the proposition, Carl?”
“Well, there was a miscommunication in our wedding planning.”
“Ooh, is that on again?” Holly asked.
“Yes,” Emma hissed.
Carl cleared his throat. “Anyway, when I was doing the wedding planning, I may have made a sizable deposit for a very talented Beach Boys cover band which I later found out was non-refundable…”
“And in my haste to replace most of Carl’s lovely but anxiety-causing ideas, I may have spent the rest of our music budget on a band that apparently only exists on the Internet.”
“Consequently, unless we were to change the reception dinner to microwave waffles and fried chicken by the bucket, we can’t exactly pay anyone, so we were wondering if you two would be willing to be our wedding singers… for gratis.”
Will and Holly looked at each other and looked back at the other couple. Will answered, “Absolutely. It would be our pleasure. Think of it as our wedding gift to the lucky couple.”
“Were we invited?” Holly wondered.
“Yes,” Emma answered immediately.
“Yes,” Carl echoed reluctantly a second later.
“We haven’t sent out save-the-dates yet,” Emma tacked on.
“I’m actually surprised you didn’t want to show off your own talent, Carl,” Will joked.
“Well,” Carl replied, grinning with pride, “the thought of singing a love song in place of my vows did cross my mind, but I figured it was a kind of tacky, 90s thing to do.”
“Don’t worry, you two, we’ll make sure to assemble a full suite of classic love songs.” Will started to restlessly bounce in his seat and his mind began to wander.
“You were right, M&M,” Carl noted, seeing Will’s enthusiasm, “he was the right guy to ask.”
Will was only woken by the buzz of his cell phone. “Oh, geez, it’s April. She wanted me to run through a song for her musical with her. I gotta run,” he kissed Holly on the cheek, pressed a hand to Emma’s shoulder, and quickly shook Carl’s hand.
“Yeah, I got to get going, too,” Carl explained, “I left a patient in the chair. Always a pleasure seeing you again, Ms. Holliday.”
“Holly, please.”
Emma and Holly were left alone. After an awkward second, Emma spoke up, “So, I think we both know Will is completely trustworthy, but I would watch April. She’s kind of…”
“Blond and floozy? Don’t worry; I know the type.”
“Okay, then,” Emma replied. After another awkward second, “You know, I’m actually starting to find the breakfast foods at your wedding idea kind of intriguing. It would save a lot of money in catering and I know a hotel food service company with a perfect health record.”
* * *
“Mr. Schue,” Sam announced at the start of glee, “I have my song ready.” Rather than sitting by Quinn as usual, he was seated next to Puck.
“Go ahead, Sam,” Will replied, noticing his choice of seating.
Sam took his guitar up, caressing the ridge before he started playing a quick, complex melody, tapping the soundboard percussively.
The Chain - Fleetwood Mac
Listen to the wind blow,
Watch the sun rise
Run in the shadows
Damn your love, damn your lies
And if you don’t love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain
And if you don’t love me now
You will never love me again
I can still hear you saying you would never break the chain
Several of his classmates, notably Rachel and Puck, familiar with the song from experience or the assignment, sang the countermelody. Quinn did not.
Chain… keeps us together
(run into the shadows)
Chain… keeps us together
(run into the shadows)
Chain… keeps us together
(run into the shadows)
At the end of the song, Sam simply stared at Quinn with sadness.
“Sam…”
“Save it, Quinn. I saw you glancing at him.”
“I was shooting daggers at him for singing along.”
“Obviously he understood the meaning of the song.”
“Obviously he doesn’t.”
Puck spoke up. “‘The Chain’ isn’t about bondage?”
Sam closed his eyes, perhaps fighting tears. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He yanked off his guitar and laid it on the piano to Brad’s ire, and stormed out.
“Sam!” Quinn cried out.
Mercedes put her hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Go after him.”
Quinn turned back and replied, “Thanks. You’re a good friend, Mercedes.” And with that, she raced out the door.
* * *
Santana was doodling on a pink Post-It note at her locker, writing ‘B + S’ above a sideways figure-eight inside a heart when the shadows came, encompassing her in darkness like a solar eclipse. She spun in place to be greeted by several football players, led by Azimio and Stromboli (or whatever his name was). Santana was quick to bark. “So, Puckerman and Berry are on guard duty today. That’s a one-two punch to your jaws and ears.”
“No, no, no, Princess Latifah. We’re just here as fans,” Azimio said with an air of insincerity, “You’re practically an Internet phenomenon now. In fact, we’re all just waiting for the behind-the-scenes cut of your appearance on your girlfriend’s gossip show. You know, where the good stuff is.”
“Go to hell,” Santana spat.
“Whoa, whoa, don’t be like that. Me and the boys here were just discussing how you’re totally publicizing yourself wrong. Last semester, Puck was bragging about the private show you and Jessica Simpson gave. If you’d drop the feminazi act and embrace the more… appealing side of your lesbian-ness, you’d be the Oprah of this school.”
Any drive to vivisect Azimio on the spot was overloaded by his suggestion. “That’s an interesting proposition. But I’m not a porn star.”
“You don’t have to be Jenna Jameson,” Spammo noted, “We’ll settle for a little Megan Fox if we don’t have to suffer Janeane Garofalo anymore.”
“No more slushies? No more demeaning yet uncreative nicknames?”
“Think big, L-Word. Didn’t you announce you and your little lemon bar’s run for double prom queen?”
“You’d vote for us just to watch us make out on stage?”
“Get a little handsy,” Spiro bargained, “And we’ll make sure you win by a landslide.”
Santana considered the offer for a moment. “Hey, it worked for Christina Aguilera and Britney Spears, didn’t it?”
The football players laughed and dispersed, leaving Santana alone, or rather, alone minus one person. Brittany stood in place, her face blank.
“Britt, what are you doing here?”
She just pointed to the space to Santana’s right. “My locker’s right there.” After a moment, she added, “Duh.”
“That’s true,” Santana replied, buying time, “You’re pissed, aren’t you?”
“No,” Brittany lied.
“Yes, you are. I can tell.”
“Well, why shouldn’t I be?” she remarked angrily.
It wasn’t often that Santana felt the need to take a step back, cornering her against her locker. “B, I just joking with them. And even if I wasn’t, what’s the big deal?”
“Santana, when we started dating, it didn’t make us any closer. You’re still my best friend. We still have our sweet lady kisses and everything. What it was supposed to do was make us not for-show anymore. We’re supposed to be real.”
“We are.”
“But you just told those boys we were running for prom queens together. You didn’t ask me if I wanted to do that, so I guess you think I’m just a giant Barbie doll that you carry around.”
“Brittany, if you don’t want to run, we won’t, okay? I don’t care about the race. They were just saying they would vote for us if we did. Hasn’t this year been all about me being nice to people and making friends?”
Brittany bit her lip and bowed her head. “It’s an easy way to make yourself popular, and it’s not right. I know the difference between you making real friends and you making Facebook friends. I get confused a lot by the way things are, but you were supposed to be the only person who did use that to get your way.”
Brittany walked away without another word. Santana was literally shivering with self-loathing, and she punched the locker between hers and Brittany’s hard enough to make an impression. “Ow,” she growled, shaking her hand and making plans to visit the nurse’s office.
Her mood was not improved by seeing Quinn and Sam over their fight.
Quinn laid a kiss on Sam’s lips. “So, we’re putting this whole ugly rumor thing behind us? You know this Puck thing is in the past?”
“Yeah,” Sam replied, “I’m sorry I was so jealous, Quinn. I just love you so much and it just seemed to make sense. I mean, what do I have with you that Puck didn’t?”
Quinn held up her hand. “You have a ring on my finger. Puck… was just a bad-boy phase I had the summer before sophomore year that I was tethered to for two trimesters. The six months we’ve shared, I chose to be with you.”
“Forgive me?”
“I was never mad,” Quinn replied, giving him another kiss.
“I’ve got geometry. See you tonight, lor ‘eve.”
Quinn giggled. In such a good mood, she politely asked Becky Jackson for a copy of The Muckraker. “Vote Quinn Fabray for Prom Queen.”
“Good luck with that. I think Santana is going to win.”
Quinn didn’t even hear this, because because the rest of the world faded away as she read the day’s headline: “Blondie Does Walk of Shame from Former Head Cheerio’s House”.
* * *
Author’s Notes: Also, I love writing April’s dialogue.
There’s no consistent fanon on Brittany’s mom’s name, so I went with my own, “Margo.” She would be played by Lisa Kudrow, so the “F” in her name stands for “Phoebe”, obviously.
Anyone else also intrigued by serving breakfast at your wedding? Think about it: Belgian waffles, Eggs Benedict, fruits, sausages. It’s unique and quirky. And vegetarian/vegan/kosher meals are a breeze.
Chapter 24: Blondie Does Walk of Shame