(no subject)
Title: Super[fluous], arc one: Punchdrunk, chapter one
Pairing: Lots. Mainly Santana/Brittany right now.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Superhero!Glee. What more can I say?
Spoilers: None, it's AU.
Word Count: 3,674
Author's Note: This is the first chapter of many, many more to come.
Bright and sunny outside, just another day in the big city. The skyscrapers towered overhead, imposing but comforting to everyone who lived here. At the foot of one of the buildings easiest to pick out of the skyline, across the busy street, was nestled one of the best secrets in the entire metropolis; coffee good enough to kill for. And Santana just might if she didn't get her share of it soon.
Morning definitely wasn't this woman's favorite time of the day, unlike some people she knew who seemed to wake up bright eyed and bushy-tailed like a fucking squirrel ready to… well, to do whatever the hell is was squirrels did. Santana didn't know and it was far too early for her to attempt to care. Mornings were only made bearable by the promise of caffeine and the knowledge that a beautiful woman would be serving it to her. Another day, another coffee. It was her daily ritual.
Santana took her usual spot, across a booth from her friend, who apparently had already went ahead and ordered some fancy omelette for herself and a steamy mug of joe.
Santana didn't really blame Quinn for not waiting up for her to get there. She didn't really like waiting for her food either, and Quinn… Quinn had a boss no one wanted to keep waiting if they could avoid it. That woman even scared Santana sometimes, and she didn't even work for that psycho bitch.
Not that Santana would ever admit to being intimidated by anybody. Fuck no.
She nodded to Quinn as she set her briefcase down on the red formica table and caught the eye of their waitress.
Brittany.
Brittany would be that bushy-tailed squirrel who was mentioned before. Mug in one hand and a coffeepot in the other, dancing from behind the open-counter and weaving through the customers and tables to get to their seat, the blonde waitress had far too much energy and grace for someone so early in the day. It was disgustingly beautiful. She perkily set the mug down and filled it up with scalding liquid without needing any real prompting, well familiar with the routine by now. Brittany didn't even bother restraining herself from leaning down and giving Santana a hug, and Santana wasn't about to bother trying to stop her. Routine.
One of the hazards or being Brittany's friend was that you couldn't escape her handsy nature. And, frankly, Santana didn't want to. With anyone else, maybe, but not Brittany.
"The usual?" Brittany chirps out with a knowing smile on her face. She always asks, and Santana always answers the same way.
"Surprise me."
Brittany giggled as if it was the first time they had ever said it and not the thousandth and zipped off. Santana watched her as she left, resisting the urge to grin and taking a generous gulp from her mug, watching Brittany's butt retreat over the lip of the cup. Quinn groaned and Santana snapped out of her reverie, remembering her friend was there.
"Lopez, some days, I swear..." the blonde started. Santana sent the woman a sharp glare, so Quinn didn't bother finishing her sentence, instead deciding she'd be better off putting another bite of bacon in her mouth. Oh, she loved bacon. It was probably the only thing more satisfying in the morning than getting Santana all riled up.
"What's on the agenda today, Q?" Santana asks, not really fully invested in hearing the answer, but still making friendly chatter. Her mug was hot and full and nothing else really mattered right now.
Quinn finished chewing with a shrug, "I'll be picking Beth up from Carol's after work," she answered, "and that's the best thing I've got on the schedule."
Santana nodded, "I've got that one case holding me-"
A huge plate of cinnamon rolls was stuck in front of Santana's face, stopping Santana in her tracks. Santana's eyebrow quirked up. Across the table, Quinn's was an exact mirror as they looked at each other for a moment, then towards Brittany's offering, then up at the leggy blonde's face with an expression that screamed 'seriously?' without actually voicing it.
To her credit, Brittany just continued to beam a smile at them and sat down beside Santana, forcing her to scoot over without asking for permission.
"I'm on break," she offered nonchalantly, ignoring the obvious questions such as 'you consider this a proper breakfast?' or 'you don't think we're going to eat all of that, do you?', and started peeling off the side of one of the oversized rolls before offering it to Santana.
How could Santana resist? She couldn't. She couldn't deny Brittany anything. Never had been able to. So she just rolled her eyes and ignored the fact she was eating a terribly unrounded first meal, and took the offered piece without arguing. Satisfied, Brittany tore off another section for her own enjoyment.
Swallowing, Santana washed her roll down with another drink. Brittany peered into Santana's mug once she sat it back down, a look of amazement on her face. "How do you do that, anyway?" she asked. Santana made no moves that would give her away as knowing what Brittany was talking about. "That coffee is really hot," Brittany continued.
Santana just shrugged and Quinn kept quiet. Brittany wasn't done yet, however. She opened her mouth to ask again, thinking maybe rephrasing it would get her a better answer, but someone called her name from behind the counter. Apparently they were too busy for her to be taking an unscheduled break right now. Ho-hum.
"Looks like it's back to work for me!" Brittany got up and stuffed one last bite of roll in her before she was gone.
Quinn sighed and looked at her watch. This elicited a groan before she got up, picking all her things up with her. "I have to go too."
"Yeah, yeah," Santana said, "Get out of here before you get eaten alive by that editor of yours."
-----
Quinn, briefcase and laptop in tow, strolled across the street quickly, trying to avoid the cars as she went. She knew they wouldn't take too kindly to her jaywalking if she got in their way. She gazed up the glass facade of her place of work before walking inside. She wasn't late. She was in control, here. She had all her things in order, and she was on time, and she was ready to take on the world.
Heels clacked on the marble floors in that satisfying way that this particular journalist adored. It said - no, screamed - 'you've made it, you're somebody.' For the woman who grew up a Fabray, in the shadow of her perfect big sister and the watchful, eagle-sharp eyes of her demanding parents, being somebody was important. Drilled into her from an early age, and again once she actually started working for the dragonlady she calls boss (Miranda Priestly, you have nothing on Sue Sylvester), Quinn knew that being the best was the only thing you should bother trying to be. By all appearances, Quinn radiated nothing but power and self-confidence by now.
She stepped into the elevator, taking it all the way to the top. God, didn't she just love the feeling of knowing everyone down below looked up at her, wishing they could be in her seat? Quinn worked on top of the world, a journalist for one of the best news teams in the city. She was respectable, well-known, strong and fearless, and… and her boss was waiting to swoop in on her the moment the elevator opened up. Quinn nearly gulped. She didn't look happy.
"WHERE EXACTLY HAVE YOU BEEN?"
"I arrived precisely at-"
"No, I emailed you last night and told you that you were to have that story finished and on my desk by at least two hours ago."
Quinn halted. Had she missed that? How could she have? That didn't make any sense, she checked her messages constantly, even if all she had with her was her phone. She knew the importance of always being in the loop.
She also knew the importance of not arguing with Sue Sylvester.
"Right, I have it finished and I'm going to…" Quinn skirted around her boss's body so she could inch toward her office, "go set it on your desk right now." She heard a sharp, "You think this is hard, Miss Fabray?" before she turned the corner. No doubt that woman would continue to storm around the place demanding headlines at breakneck speeds, whether or not the journalists had the ability to produce such things out of thin air or not...
Today was going to be hell, Quinn could already tell.
-----
Brittany's day had been far less horrible than her friend's was, however. Since she worked the morning shift, and it was now afternoon, that left the blonde with some spare time in which she had… absolutely nothing in particular planned for herself to do. Mike wouldn't be home at their apartment for another hour or so at least.
Other people may find themselves growing bored in their spare time, but Brittany wasn't the type of girl to ever get bored. She was, however, exactly the type of girl one would expect to find herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her mistake today was that she decided to take the shiny new metro home. It was exciting and new, and the guy on the news said it was totally safer than the old one. So, why not? Newspersons never lied. She knew a lot of newspersons.
Everything was going great for the first several minutes, and all there really was to do was look outside the window and admire the view, and admire that these windows were new and clean and you could actually see out of them, unlike the old ones. And then she saw it. Or, not it, but who.
Brittany blinked, pressing her forehead to the glass, thinking maybe she was seeing things. It wouldn't be the first time. But no, there they were.
There was someone on the tracks. Red suit. White stripes. Horribly mean and defiant expression that Brittany could read even from this far away. …Was that a megaphone in her hands? Really? Okay then.
Having lived in this city all her life, Brittany was more than well used to hearing about the many and varied costumed people causing trouble, but had so far been able to escape being caught in the middle. Today was the day that changed.
The driver saw the woman on the tracks and the train came to a grinding halt, jolting everyone inside as it started screeching in a horrible way that made Brittany grimace as she continued to stare out. Or maybe she was grimacing at the fact the woman was coming closer. Was she going to board with them and beat them all up and steal all Brittany's tip money? This wasn't good! This wasn't right at all. The metro train was supposed to be safe, the newsguy said so!
In a panic, Brittany wasn't sure what to do. Surely someone would save her, right? She looked around the cabin at the other passengers who were all pushed up against the glass like she was. Some were huddled on the other side as far away as they could be. Some of the more jaded characters, the kind who thought living in this city meant there was always someone there to save you so you didn't have to worry, didn't seem to care at all and they just continued to read their papers and books. Hopefully they were right and someone would come save them.
Brittany's eyes opened wide as that hope entered her brain. Of course someone would save them. Someone always came and stopped things like this. That's what New Directions was for, after all. Why have a resident superhero team if they're not gonna protect you from the evil and bad things that happen to all the innocent people in this town?
And there she was. Brittany's had fantasies about this one before. This one, in her tight red catsuit with long hair and her dark, tanned skin and those full lips… You couldn't see much of her because of the mask, but what you could see… well, it definitely made Brittany wish she could see more of it. Really, it's no wonder they call her Smokin'.
Or maybe the name really just had to do with the fire powers she was currently hurling around all over the place.
The fight was raging, and coming closer, but Brittany didn't have the sense to be scared anymore. She opened the window and peered out, trying to get a better look. The metro shook here and there with various impacts (they were on the roof!) and she could hear sizzling and screams from the megaphone, but couldn't see them anymore.
Brittany was very disappointed. Her first superhero encounter and she was going to miss it because a stupid roof was in the way? Life was so unfair. Brittany pulled herself back inside the car, sitting in her seat and folding her arms across her chest, pouting as if it would actually do her any good.
So unfair!
And then they burned a hole right through the roof, and both came tumbling inside, nearly landing right on top of her.
"You're not going to get away with this, you know-" Smokin' exclaimed, but then suddenly seemed to stop, frozen in place, mid-fighting stance.
Was Brittany having another one of her fantasies, or were they totally locking eyes right now?
They were totally locking eyes right now.
And it was the sexiest thing Brittany had ever experienced aside from maybe that one time with that guy from-
She felt something behind her. Something imposing and scary. She didn't have to see it, it oozed its own horror. She was grabbed, there was a scream, something hard hit her head… and then she blacked out.
-----
This wasn't supposed to happen. Santana's superhero life and her personal life with the nonpowered she was friends with were never supposed to intersect. She took pains to make sure they didn't, because that just complicated… everything. Brittany of all people was the last person she ever wanted to see mixed up in anything dangerous.
So imagine her shock when she saw The Dictator knocking her best friend out and using her now-limp body as a shield of some sort to make her escape.
Fuck no, that was the biggest mistake that crazy criminal would ever make. Smokin' had it out for her, now. She got away this time - only because Santana was worried about hurting her friend - but there was no way that was going to happen next time.
She'd be more worried about trying to actually figure out why Dictator was there in the first place so she could try to figure out her next move and beat her to the punch (literally and figuratively) but she had far more pressing concerns right now. Namely Brittany, unconscious and in her arms.
Cradling Brittany in some dark alleyway and trying to make sure she was okay was… awkward. She seemed alright on the surface, but Santana's protectiveness over the blonde didn't allow her to really be convinced. But aside from that bump to the head, and some scratches, she looked alright. But what did Santana know? She wasn't a damn doctor.
…Should she take her to a doctor? Probably.
Santana tucked the girl close to her body and prepared to stand up once more, but then the blonde stirred, blinking her eyes open with a groan.
Brittany reached up to hold her head, continuing to blink her eyes lazily. She felt groggy. Boggled. She kinda felt like that time Puck persuaded her to drink a few too many wine coolers. What was it with that man and wine coolers, anyway…? Seriously.
But her eyes eventually focused, and her brain cleared and she could remember what happened. And she realized that the figure cradling her in her arms was actually real and not some weird hallucination from drinking too much.
"You saved me!" Brittany bolted up straight in surprise, but instantly regretted it. "Oh, my head." She slumped back down with a frown.
Santana hated her frown. And now she was realizing how much she wanted to show her friend how really concerned she was for her, but had to maintain the illusion they'd never met before. "I did," she said, trying to look concerned but relatively neutral. She had a persona to keep intact. She brought up one of her hands, waving it from side to side, "Follow my finger, I want to see if you're alright."
Brittany's eyes followed, and Santana nodded. Then she brought a few more fingers up to join the first, "Now how many fingers am I holding up?"
Brittany had to think about this one. Thinking wasn't her strongest trait. At the moment, she almost looked like it pained her. Santana put her fingers back down with a quick "Never mind, I think you're okay," letting the waitress off the hook. Brittany beamed a smile. She shouldn't be so happy right now, after this. Santana was still furious that the girl was hurt in the first place, and now she was smiling?
"You saved me," Brittany repeated again, some sort of reverence in her voice. Santana had heard it before, actually. All the time back when they were younger.
Santana tried not to pay attention to the warm wave of nostalgia and keep it professional. She shrugged, untangling herself from her friend's arms, preparing to leave, "Yeah, well, that is what I do. You'll be alright?"
Brittany's smile just grew wider as she leaned forward and kissed her superhero idol, "I'm fine now."
How cheesy was that? That was so cheesy. And yet Santana couldn't bring herself to say anything about the words. She's gotta get out of there, this isn't right.
And just like that, Brittany is left behind as Smokin' rushes off, doing some insane acrobatics to reach the top of a building.
Brittany is left behind, and her already sometimes-unhealthy crush is nothing but intensified after her afternoon spent as a damsel-in-distress.
-----
"And then what?" Puck asks, leaning an elbow against the side of the couch before he downs a particularly large gulp of beer. Mike is sitting beside him, both still in their policeman's uniforms despite the fact they were now officially off-duty for the night. Brittany thought they were both rather hansom in their cute little matching outfits though.
Though they keep telling her it's not cute, but rather rugged and manly or something.
Either way, that wasn't important right now, she had a story to tell.
"And then," she starts, leaning forward excitedly, "and then they fall through the roof, and me and Smokin' are totally eyesexing each other," at this, the boys give her a questioning look, but she just keeps going, "and I feel something, you know like that nagging feeling something bad is going on somewhere, like maybe someone's talking about you behind your back, but more evil, and I got hit on the head."
Puck had an eyebrow raised. Whether it was due to the unnecessary additions Brittany had given to the story for 'clarification' or the entire thing in principal, even he couldn't distinguish. There were a lot of things Puck could say, but it was Mike who spoke first.
"So you got knocked out by The Dictator, and that's it?" He was fishing her. Fishing his roommate. But her story didn't seem right, because surely she would have been at the scene when the police got there later, and Mike didn't remember seeing her there when they'd been called in.
Brittany shook her head no, answering him, looking dazed and lost in some daydream. She looked this way with a regularity that startled people who didn't know her very well. Her cat jumped up into her lap, and she absently stroked at him. Brittany loved that damn cat, much to the dismay of nearly everyone else.
The waitress looked down, addressing the cat, "Do you wanna hear the rest, my furry little fluffball of catdom?" He didn't answer, but Brittany apparently took that as a yes anyway. She never called him by his real name, just weird nicknames. Mike had lived with the blonde, and her cat (it damn sure wasn't his cat), for years, but still didn't actually know the cat's real name.
"So I was knocked out, but I woke up in an alley, and I was being held. It was warm and safe, and I look and Smokin' is totally holding me in her arms!" Brittany's eyes grow wide in excitement as she says this. "And she takes care of me and makes sure I'm okay, and she's so hot-" Puck snorted, and Brittany continued with more passion as if to tell him to shut the hell up, "and she's so hot, and I tell her thank you… and I kiss her before she leaves!"
"Whoa, wait a minute. I'm pretty sure there should be some sort of law against something like that," Puck says. "I know she's totally hot and all, but she can't just go around saving people and taking advantage of them and…" he trailed off, his mind going somewhere else. He was leering. Mike punched him to get him to stop, and the cat jumped off the couch when Puck hit him back.
"Stop it," Brittany tells them, utterly deadpan. They do.
"I'm trying to tell you guys the story of how I met the girl of my dreams here, and you just want to… to… to to turn my rainbow all grey!"
Mike at least had the good nature in him to look slightly sorry. "So, what else happened then?"
Brittany paused and thought about it. "Oh, nothing I guess. She left. I plan to meet her again soon."
Pairing: Lots. Mainly Santana/Brittany right now.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Superhero!Glee. What more can I say?
Spoilers: None, it's AU.
Word Count: 3,674
Author's Note: This is the first chapter of many, many more to come.
Bright and sunny outside, just another day in the big city. The skyscrapers towered overhead, imposing but comforting to everyone who lived here. At the foot of one of the buildings easiest to pick out of the skyline, across the busy street, was nestled one of the best secrets in the entire metropolis; coffee good enough to kill for. And Santana just might if she didn't get her share of it soon.
Morning definitely wasn't this woman's favorite time of the day, unlike some people she knew who seemed to wake up bright eyed and bushy-tailed like a fucking squirrel ready to… well, to do whatever the hell is was squirrels did. Santana didn't know and it was far too early for her to attempt to care. Mornings were only made bearable by the promise of caffeine and the knowledge that a beautiful woman would be serving it to her. Another day, another coffee. It was her daily ritual.
Santana took her usual spot, across a booth from her friend, who apparently had already went ahead and ordered some fancy omelette for herself and a steamy mug of joe.
Santana didn't really blame Quinn for not waiting up for her to get there. She didn't really like waiting for her food either, and Quinn… Quinn had a boss no one wanted to keep waiting if they could avoid it. That woman even scared Santana sometimes, and she didn't even work for that psycho bitch.
Not that Santana would ever admit to being intimidated by anybody. Fuck no.
She nodded to Quinn as she set her briefcase down on the red formica table and caught the eye of their waitress.
Brittany.
Brittany would be that bushy-tailed squirrel who was mentioned before. Mug in one hand and a coffeepot in the other, dancing from behind the open-counter and weaving through the customers and tables to get to their seat, the blonde waitress had far too much energy and grace for someone so early in the day. It was disgustingly beautiful. She perkily set the mug down and filled it up with scalding liquid without needing any real prompting, well familiar with the routine by now. Brittany didn't even bother restraining herself from leaning down and giving Santana a hug, and Santana wasn't about to bother trying to stop her. Routine.
One of the hazards or being Brittany's friend was that you couldn't escape her handsy nature. And, frankly, Santana didn't want to. With anyone else, maybe, but not Brittany.
"The usual?" Brittany chirps out with a knowing smile on her face. She always asks, and Santana always answers the same way.
"Surprise me."
Brittany giggled as if it was the first time they had ever said it and not the thousandth and zipped off. Santana watched her as she left, resisting the urge to grin and taking a generous gulp from her mug, watching Brittany's butt retreat over the lip of the cup. Quinn groaned and Santana snapped out of her reverie, remembering her friend was there.
"Lopez, some days, I swear..." the blonde started. Santana sent the woman a sharp glare, so Quinn didn't bother finishing her sentence, instead deciding she'd be better off putting another bite of bacon in her mouth. Oh, she loved bacon. It was probably the only thing more satisfying in the morning than getting Santana all riled up.
"What's on the agenda today, Q?" Santana asks, not really fully invested in hearing the answer, but still making friendly chatter. Her mug was hot and full and nothing else really mattered right now.
Quinn finished chewing with a shrug, "I'll be picking Beth up from Carol's after work," she answered, "and that's the best thing I've got on the schedule."
Santana nodded, "I've got that one case holding me-"
A huge plate of cinnamon rolls was stuck in front of Santana's face, stopping Santana in her tracks. Santana's eyebrow quirked up. Across the table, Quinn's was an exact mirror as they looked at each other for a moment, then towards Brittany's offering, then up at the leggy blonde's face with an expression that screamed 'seriously?' without actually voicing it.
To her credit, Brittany just continued to beam a smile at them and sat down beside Santana, forcing her to scoot over without asking for permission.
"I'm on break," she offered nonchalantly, ignoring the obvious questions such as 'you consider this a proper breakfast?' or 'you don't think we're going to eat all of that, do you?', and started peeling off the side of one of the oversized rolls before offering it to Santana.
How could Santana resist? She couldn't. She couldn't deny Brittany anything. Never had been able to. So she just rolled her eyes and ignored the fact she was eating a terribly unrounded first meal, and took the offered piece without arguing. Satisfied, Brittany tore off another section for her own enjoyment.
Swallowing, Santana washed her roll down with another drink. Brittany peered into Santana's mug once she sat it back down, a look of amazement on her face. "How do you do that, anyway?" she asked. Santana made no moves that would give her away as knowing what Brittany was talking about. "That coffee is really hot," Brittany continued.
Santana just shrugged and Quinn kept quiet. Brittany wasn't done yet, however. She opened her mouth to ask again, thinking maybe rephrasing it would get her a better answer, but someone called her name from behind the counter. Apparently they were too busy for her to be taking an unscheduled break right now. Ho-hum.
"Looks like it's back to work for me!" Brittany got up and stuffed one last bite of roll in her before she was gone.
Quinn sighed and looked at her watch. This elicited a groan before she got up, picking all her things up with her. "I have to go too."
"Yeah, yeah," Santana said, "Get out of here before you get eaten alive by that editor of yours."
-----
Quinn, briefcase and laptop in tow, strolled across the street quickly, trying to avoid the cars as she went. She knew they wouldn't take too kindly to her jaywalking if she got in their way. She gazed up the glass facade of her place of work before walking inside. She wasn't late. She was in control, here. She had all her things in order, and she was on time, and she was ready to take on the world.
Heels clacked on the marble floors in that satisfying way that this particular journalist adored. It said - no, screamed - 'you've made it, you're somebody.' For the woman who grew up a Fabray, in the shadow of her perfect big sister and the watchful, eagle-sharp eyes of her demanding parents, being somebody was important. Drilled into her from an early age, and again once she actually started working for the dragonlady she calls boss (Miranda Priestly, you have nothing on Sue Sylvester), Quinn knew that being the best was the only thing you should bother trying to be. By all appearances, Quinn radiated nothing but power and self-confidence by now.
She stepped into the elevator, taking it all the way to the top. God, didn't she just love the feeling of knowing everyone down below looked up at her, wishing they could be in her seat? Quinn worked on top of the world, a journalist for one of the best news teams in the city. She was respectable, well-known, strong and fearless, and… and her boss was waiting to swoop in on her the moment the elevator opened up. Quinn nearly gulped. She didn't look happy.
"WHERE EXACTLY HAVE YOU BEEN?"
"I arrived precisely at-"
"No, I emailed you last night and told you that you were to have that story finished and on my desk by at least two hours ago."
Quinn halted. Had she missed that? How could she have? That didn't make any sense, she checked her messages constantly, even if all she had with her was her phone. She knew the importance of always being in the loop.
She also knew the importance of not arguing with Sue Sylvester.
"Right, I have it finished and I'm going to…" Quinn skirted around her boss's body so she could inch toward her office, "go set it on your desk right now." She heard a sharp, "You think this is hard, Miss Fabray?" before she turned the corner. No doubt that woman would continue to storm around the place demanding headlines at breakneck speeds, whether or not the journalists had the ability to produce such things out of thin air or not...
Today was going to be hell, Quinn could already tell.
-----
Brittany's day had been far less horrible than her friend's was, however. Since she worked the morning shift, and it was now afternoon, that left the blonde with some spare time in which she had… absolutely nothing in particular planned for herself to do. Mike wouldn't be home at their apartment for another hour or so at least.
Other people may find themselves growing bored in their spare time, but Brittany wasn't the type of girl to ever get bored. She was, however, exactly the type of girl one would expect to find herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her mistake today was that she decided to take the shiny new metro home. It was exciting and new, and the guy on the news said it was totally safer than the old one. So, why not? Newspersons never lied. She knew a lot of newspersons.
Everything was going great for the first several minutes, and all there really was to do was look outside the window and admire the view, and admire that these windows were new and clean and you could actually see out of them, unlike the old ones. And then she saw it. Or, not it, but who.
Brittany blinked, pressing her forehead to the glass, thinking maybe she was seeing things. It wouldn't be the first time. But no, there they were.
There was someone on the tracks. Red suit. White stripes. Horribly mean and defiant expression that Brittany could read even from this far away. …Was that a megaphone in her hands? Really? Okay then.
Having lived in this city all her life, Brittany was more than well used to hearing about the many and varied costumed people causing trouble, but had so far been able to escape being caught in the middle. Today was the day that changed.
The driver saw the woman on the tracks and the train came to a grinding halt, jolting everyone inside as it started screeching in a horrible way that made Brittany grimace as she continued to stare out. Or maybe she was grimacing at the fact the woman was coming closer. Was she going to board with them and beat them all up and steal all Brittany's tip money? This wasn't good! This wasn't right at all. The metro train was supposed to be safe, the newsguy said so!
In a panic, Brittany wasn't sure what to do. Surely someone would save her, right? She looked around the cabin at the other passengers who were all pushed up against the glass like she was. Some were huddled on the other side as far away as they could be. Some of the more jaded characters, the kind who thought living in this city meant there was always someone there to save you so you didn't have to worry, didn't seem to care at all and they just continued to read their papers and books. Hopefully they were right and someone would come save them.
Brittany's eyes opened wide as that hope entered her brain. Of course someone would save them. Someone always came and stopped things like this. That's what New Directions was for, after all. Why have a resident superhero team if they're not gonna protect you from the evil and bad things that happen to all the innocent people in this town?
And there she was. Brittany's had fantasies about this one before. This one, in her tight red catsuit with long hair and her dark, tanned skin and those full lips… You couldn't see much of her because of the mask, but what you could see… well, it definitely made Brittany wish she could see more of it. Really, it's no wonder they call her Smokin'.
Or maybe the name really just had to do with the fire powers she was currently hurling around all over the place.
The fight was raging, and coming closer, but Brittany didn't have the sense to be scared anymore. She opened the window and peered out, trying to get a better look. The metro shook here and there with various impacts (they were on the roof!) and she could hear sizzling and screams from the megaphone, but couldn't see them anymore.
Brittany was very disappointed. Her first superhero encounter and she was going to miss it because a stupid roof was in the way? Life was so unfair. Brittany pulled herself back inside the car, sitting in her seat and folding her arms across her chest, pouting as if it would actually do her any good.
So unfair!
And then they burned a hole right through the roof, and both came tumbling inside, nearly landing right on top of her.
"You're not going to get away with this, you know-" Smokin' exclaimed, but then suddenly seemed to stop, frozen in place, mid-fighting stance.
Was Brittany having another one of her fantasies, or were they totally locking eyes right now?
They were totally locking eyes right now.
And it was the sexiest thing Brittany had ever experienced aside from maybe that one time with that guy from-
She felt something behind her. Something imposing and scary. She didn't have to see it, it oozed its own horror. She was grabbed, there was a scream, something hard hit her head… and then she blacked out.
-----
This wasn't supposed to happen. Santana's superhero life and her personal life with the nonpowered she was friends with were never supposed to intersect. She took pains to make sure they didn't, because that just complicated… everything. Brittany of all people was the last person she ever wanted to see mixed up in anything dangerous.
So imagine her shock when she saw The Dictator knocking her best friend out and using her now-limp body as a shield of some sort to make her escape.
Fuck no, that was the biggest mistake that crazy criminal would ever make. Smokin' had it out for her, now. She got away this time - only because Santana was worried about hurting her friend - but there was no way that was going to happen next time.
She'd be more worried about trying to actually figure out why Dictator was there in the first place so she could try to figure out her next move and beat her to the punch (literally and figuratively) but she had far more pressing concerns right now. Namely Brittany, unconscious and in her arms.
Cradling Brittany in some dark alleyway and trying to make sure she was okay was… awkward. She seemed alright on the surface, but Santana's protectiveness over the blonde didn't allow her to really be convinced. But aside from that bump to the head, and some scratches, she looked alright. But what did Santana know? She wasn't a damn doctor.
…Should she take her to a doctor? Probably.
Santana tucked the girl close to her body and prepared to stand up once more, but then the blonde stirred, blinking her eyes open with a groan.
Brittany reached up to hold her head, continuing to blink her eyes lazily. She felt groggy. Boggled. She kinda felt like that time Puck persuaded her to drink a few too many wine coolers. What was it with that man and wine coolers, anyway…? Seriously.
But her eyes eventually focused, and her brain cleared and she could remember what happened. And she realized that the figure cradling her in her arms was actually real and not some weird hallucination from drinking too much.
"You saved me!" Brittany bolted up straight in surprise, but instantly regretted it. "Oh, my head." She slumped back down with a frown.
Santana hated her frown. And now she was realizing how much she wanted to show her friend how really concerned she was for her, but had to maintain the illusion they'd never met before. "I did," she said, trying to look concerned but relatively neutral. She had a persona to keep intact. She brought up one of her hands, waving it from side to side, "Follow my finger, I want to see if you're alright."
Brittany's eyes followed, and Santana nodded. Then she brought a few more fingers up to join the first, "Now how many fingers am I holding up?"
Brittany had to think about this one. Thinking wasn't her strongest trait. At the moment, she almost looked like it pained her. Santana put her fingers back down with a quick "Never mind, I think you're okay," letting the waitress off the hook. Brittany beamed a smile. She shouldn't be so happy right now, after this. Santana was still furious that the girl was hurt in the first place, and now she was smiling?
"You saved me," Brittany repeated again, some sort of reverence in her voice. Santana had heard it before, actually. All the time back when they were younger.
Santana tried not to pay attention to the warm wave of nostalgia and keep it professional. She shrugged, untangling herself from her friend's arms, preparing to leave, "Yeah, well, that is what I do. You'll be alright?"
Brittany's smile just grew wider as she leaned forward and kissed her superhero idol, "I'm fine now."
How cheesy was that? That was so cheesy. And yet Santana couldn't bring herself to say anything about the words. She's gotta get out of there, this isn't right.
And just like that, Brittany is left behind as Smokin' rushes off, doing some insane acrobatics to reach the top of a building.
Brittany is left behind, and her already sometimes-unhealthy crush is nothing but intensified after her afternoon spent as a damsel-in-distress.
-----
"And then what?" Puck asks, leaning an elbow against the side of the couch before he downs a particularly large gulp of beer. Mike is sitting beside him, both still in their policeman's uniforms despite the fact they were now officially off-duty for the night. Brittany thought they were both rather hansom in their cute little matching outfits though.
Though they keep telling her it's not cute, but rather rugged and manly or something.
Either way, that wasn't important right now, she had a story to tell.
"And then," she starts, leaning forward excitedly, "and then they fall through the roof, and me and Smokin' are totally eyesexing each other," at this, the boys give her a questioning look, but she just keeps going, "and I feel something, you know like that nagging feeling something bad is going on somewhere, like maybe someone's talking about you behind your back, but more evil, and I got hit on the head."
Puck had an eyebrow raised. Whether it was due to the unnecessary additions Brittany had given to the story for 'clarification' or the entire thing in principal, even he couldn't distinguish. There were a lot of things Puck could say, but it was Mike who spoke first.
"So you got knocked out by The Dictator, and that's it?" He was fishing her. Fishing his roommate. But her story didn't seem right, because surely she would have been at the scene when the police got there later, and Mike didn't remember seeing her there when they'd been called in.
Brittany shook her head no, answering him, looking dazed and lost in some daydream. She looked this way with a regularity that startled people who didn't know her very well. Her cat jumped up into her lap, and she absently stroked at him. Brittany loved that damn cat, much to the dismay of nearly everyone else.
The waitress looked down, addressing the cat, "Do you wanna hear the rest, my furry little fluffball of catdom?" He didn't answer, but Brittany apparently took that as a yes anyway. She never called him by his real name, just weird nicknames. Mike had lived with the blonde, and her cat (it damn sure wasn't his cat), for years, but still didn't actually know the cat's real name.
"So I was knocked out, but I woke up in an alley, and I was being held. It was warm and safe, and I look and Smokin' is totally holding me in her arms!" Brittany's eyes grow wide in excitement as she says this. "And she takes care of me and makes sure I'm okay, and she's so hot-" Puck snorted, and Brittany continued with more passion as if to tell him to shut the hell up, "and she's so hot, and I tell her thank you… and I kiss her before she leaves!"
"Whoa, wait a minute. I'm pretty sure there should be some sort of law against something like that," Puck says. "I know she's totally hot and all, but she can't just go around saving people and taking advantage of them and…" he trailed off, his mind going somewhere else. He was leering. Mike punched him to get him to stop, and the cat jumped off the couch when Puck hit him back.
"Stop it," Brittany tells them, utterly deadpan. They do.
"I'm trying to tell you guys the story of how I met the girl of my dreams here, and you just want to… to… to to turn my rainbow all grey!"
Mike at least had the good nature in him to look slightly sorry. "So, what else happened then?"
Brittany paused and thought about it. "Oh, nothing I guess. She left. I plan to meet her again soon."