Satan and the School Girl (3/9?)
Title: Satan and the Schoolgirl
Author: Helion
Chapters: Chapter 3; The Great Slushy War, Days Zero and One
(Get ready for more dorky!Puck)
Pairing: Rachel/Santana, illusions to Brittany/Santana (past)
Rating: PG-13-R (This may change)
Summary: After being named the scariest ruling psycho-bitch in three counties, there is really just one thing Santana Lopez would like to know.
Warnings: Language, Implied dirty thoughts, violence and slushy related stickiness. =D
Spoilers: 1x18-1x19
Disclaimer: If they were mine, we wouldn't NEED fanfiction. Also, Glee would prolly be on Showtime, because the places that my brain takes them are not FCC compatible.
A/N: This has officially turned into a monster.
Its looking like it might end up longer than 7 chapters, so it might take me a little bit longer to update now as we're nearing the end of the already written chapters. However, I do have the next one finished and will be starting on the following one tonight so it shouldn't be much of a wait.
A/N 2: Ok, so from this point on just assume that things happening in the show are roughly happening in the background. This part takes place after the previously mentioned cannon but before Funk and Theatricality (which for this fic are in that order, as they were supposed to be before Fox started screwing with the schedule). So its kinda in no-mans land in between episodes. Also, I'm finally starting to develop Santana and Rachel (just a little, don't get your hopes too high. I promise I'll get there though!) so any feed back on that would be awesome. Also, I may have had a bit too much fun with this chapter, but I'll let you guys be the judge of that. Anyway, I'll stop rambling, here ya go!
World War S: The Great Slushy War (Day Zero)
Santana laughed as she marched through the halls of McKinley on Monday morning. Freshmen ducked into bathrooms (like that would save them if she had actually taken notice), sophomores hid behind juniors, juniors held up their notebooks in front of their faces or vital bits of clothing. She even noticed three-quarters of the seniors backing into corners. Jew-fro (who was lucky she had beaten Georgeo before she found out about his latest bid for Rachel’s underwear) collapsed into a literal puddle of fear, doing a Tony award winning impression of Puck’s unborn daughter.
Even the original glee kids backed up against lockers and stared on in recognition and confusion. Santana Lopez was head bitch in charge, and everyone knew it. Even Fabray crossed her arms on top of her baby bump, sighing and raising an eyebrow; then stood and waited to see if she was going to be the latest victim of Santana’s possible clinical insanity. She noticed with self-satisfied smirk, as she turned to face Rachel, that everyone but a handful of seniors, Jew-fro (who was still immobile but watching) and Preggo had booked it for the nearest doorway as she passed.
Berry, for her part, had the grace to not dive out of the way; nor did she bother to squeeze her eyes shut for the expectant syrupy shower. She stared Santana straight in the eye and took a deep breath and let it slip out in a breathy whisper.
“Santana?”
Santana held out her hand slowly, and Rachel took the oversized red cup and grinned when she looked in it to find, not purple but tropical blue colored icy goodness. Santana took one more look down the hallway to steal her nerves and remind herself of her badass status, then looked back into her favorite set of eyes.
“Puck said it worked for him.” She said. When Rachel opened her mouth to release what was sure to be a long winded Rachel speech about… well she didn’t care what about right now… Santana held up her newly freed hand.
“Just-just let me say this ok? Puck said the slushy deal worked for him, so I thought I’d try it; but with a twist. I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. Especially the slushies though. Q may have been the one that told us to hit you with them, but, well, it was my idea first. I tossed the first one at that creepy Jacob-Ben Israel kid in seventh grade. So it was my fault. All of it, every time you got hit with one whether I threw it or not, it was all my fault.”
She stopped to take a breath but continued before Rachel could speak up (which was impressive considering it was Rachel, fuck yeah she knew her girl).
“I made sure though… that you never got hit with this.” She looked down, then back up into the pretty brown eyes. “Quinn thought she was making it worse, but that’s the one thing I don’t regret. ‘Blueberry’s her favorite’, I said. So Quinn ordered you never got hit with one of those, cuz you might like it or something stupid, and it kinda got around. I couldn’t though, I never wanted those summer afternoons when your dads would take the three of us to the QuikStop and then the park, I didn’t want ruining those memories to be on my hands too…” Rachel laughed and Santana stopped talking, staring nervously.
“You remembered. You remembered my favorite.” Then Santana laughed too, and she was hit with that billion-watt Berry smile.
“Well, yeah, you got the same thing every day for three years. I remember that’s how we cheered you up when someone made fun of your dads. Blueberry for a blue Berry.” Rachel cringed at the remembered joke.
“Lame wasn’t it?” It was Rachel’s turn to hold up her hand. “It wasn’t your fault. Or, well it wasn’t all your fault, and the bits that were I forgive you for.” She smiled at Santana, and the Latina noticed, not for the first time, when she was around the little diva acted less like an Ivy-league dictionary and more like a sixteen-year-old girl. She held out her arm and grinned, both of them knowing it was a good natured jab at Puck and his clumsiness. Rachel linked her arm with Santana’s, taking a sip of her drink through the provided straw looking through her eyelashes at Santana. Utter faux innocence, complete with a smirk.
Fuck. Focus. Not done Lopez.
“Wait.” Santana stopped, looking over with her patented look of disgust, at Jew-Fro who had managed to drag himself out of his fetal position and onto his feet again. He backed up so quickly he hit the lockers with a bang. “How much was it? That he offered for your underwear?” Rachel looked shocked for a moment, before answering, her face a little red.
“N-nothing. He said he would give Glee club a bad review if I-I didn’t…” Santana’s face twisted more, and she swore Jew-Fro’s knee’s were knocking together. Before Rachel had finished her sentence he had a face full of green slushy.
“You know, I think I always liked Berry flavored better anyway.” Her face angelic once more, grin replacing scowl, she turned to the shorter girl and held out her hand.
“May I?”
The brunette grinned, her eyes sparkling, and raised the straw to Santana’s lips. The Latina took a sip, licking her lips.
“Yup. Definitely my favorite. Come on Estrella.” When they were two steps away, just as Israel relaxed, assuming the slushy was the worst of his punishment, Santana held up her free hand and snapped her fingers. “If we’re late for Spanish, Schuester won’t shut up about it in glee, and I’d rather sing than listen to him carry on about responsibility any day.”
She was sure Rachel didn’t see Puck, Mike Chang and another random football player push off from their places lining the hallway and advance on the ill-fated boy. She was pretty sure, however, that the Rachel she was getting to know again wouldn’t give a god-damn.
Day One
The next three days at McKinley High School had the student body as at Def-con 1; something that had never been declared by students in this Midwestern, mostly middle class town. Every social group was up in arms, and icy death, and any other reliable food based or otherwise weapon they could get away with. The jocks were rarely without slushies, having somehow smuggled in a machine. The drama club carried around super soakers. The Drama and Art clubs teamed up to protect each other with tubes of oil paint, a seriously lethal combination.
The original glee kids, having been warned, had taken to wearing plastic rain-poncho’s again. All except Rachel, who was attached to the side of either Santana, who had pushed the big red button when she declared Rachel her friend; Puck, the Latina’s most trusted general in her fight against idiots and uppity Cheerio’s who thought that because she broke the social norms, she was automatically out; or Brittany who was seen, on all sides, as untouchable.
It started out small on Tuesday morning. Santana, having spent the evening with Rachel, Puck and Brittany at Rachel’s house, had showed up to school with the other three; and without her Cheerio uniform. The freshman on the squad, as well as several students Santana had terrorized in times past saw it as an opportunity. It was almost heresy for someone on the squad to be on campus during school hours without their uniform. It meant the attack was immediate and swift.
Unfortunately for them they overlooked the obvious calculated move by Santana. She had always kept an emergency uniform in her Cheerio locker incase of bloodshed. Brittany, while in uniform and rarely in the line of fire, happened to keep a spare one in hers incase of food or duck related mishaps. This way, she wouldn’t be down a uniform so early in the day and she got to be in cloths more suited to kicking ass. So, guessing the move that the younger, power hungry but less ruthless cheerleaders would make, she tried to keep the smirk off her face when they surrounded her.
Rachel moved behind Puck and Santana with Brittany, as the younger students launched a slushy attack even more legendary than the one that hit Hudson and Fabray when news of Babygate broke. Santana and Puck looked at each other, ice cold stickiness running down their faces, while the younger kids laughed and congratulated each other. Smirks worked themselves onto dark faces, while the attackers were unaware of just how much danger they were in. The large boy was in as little clothing as he could get away with, and Puck was the first to grin; he and Santana looking for all the world like sharks getting ready for a feeding frenzy. He signaled the attack, pulling his stained t-shirt over his head and tossing it in the face of the closest Junior Varsity jock.
Santana charged. Two Cheerio’s were down before they knew what was happening, and those loyal to Santana had moved in and slushied three others. Santana made sure to hit where it hurt, but in strategic places covered by Cheerio uniforms, she made sure to leave them able to function just enough to listen to Coaches “YOU THINK THIS IS HARD!” speech through the groaning. The jocks, of which there were more of, she was less careful with. She was sure she heard a few bones break.
Puck had taken down two smaller basketball players, who were now bleeding against the lockers. Mike Chang and Rutherford moved in and iced two more Cheerio’s before turning on the remaining jocks with their favorite weapons, their fists. Tina, who was placed strategically by the art room, came at them with oil paint; from behind her, out of the home economics room came streams of blue liquid. Further inspection revealed Kurt (another loyal cheerio), Mercedes and Hudson with squirt guns full of strong bleach diluted just enough to spray the Cheerios’ usually pristine, bright red uniforms. As Santana decked the last of the Cheerios in the stomach for the second time she noticed Artie and Quinn tossing water balloons full of grape juice over the heads of the three gunners. The blonde girl had a feral grin on her face and looked to be enjoying herself even more than the others.
She laughed heartily, turning in time to see Britt kick a jock in the nuts for slushying her friend Becky (one of Santana’s loyals), and Rachel kick the shin of, and then deliver a mean right hook to, a Cheerio who had Suzie Pepper in a headlock.
Fuck that’s hot.
Two more Cheerio’s attempted to rise. Santana kicked one of them in the stomach, and the other in the back and they both groaned and fell back into their places at her feet. She looked at her watch.
“LISTEN UP! You all fell! If I hear otherwise, the next retaliation will make this look like a fucking beach trip, got it!?” When nobody responded, she kicked a Varsity Football player in the face. “I can’t hear you!” A collective groan went up among the group. It was obvious that those that could rise had thought better of it. Rachel was giving her a look that said she had enjoyed this version of the Latina’s insanity more than she was comfortable with. Santana mourned the fact that she had to shower and change before class, otherwise she may have just bent Berry over right there in that hallway, consequences be damned.
“All right! Puckerman, Chang, Rutherford. Clean up, fifteen minutes!”
Between the Cheerio loyals and the Glee jocks, they had the rest of the (no longer) uppity bitches and overly cocky jocks packed away in various dumpsters around the school with five minutes to spare before Figgins, Pillsbury, or any other teacher that gave a damn showed up.
So, the Great Slushy War begins.
Santana was untouchable for the rest of the day. She wasn’t delusional enough to think that it would last, but she worked it while she could. Even the Cheerio’s not involved in the incident that morning moved out of her way. The battles in the halls temporarily stopped when she walked by, and most of the day she had Rachel by her side.
Puck walked the halls shirtless, in his shorts and combat boots. Equipped with a Super Soaker full of bleach over his shoulder, he was body guarding Quinn and anyone else he felt like, and spraying any of the rebellious Cheerios he saw (only two of which had changes of uniform). Matt and Mike only had to punch two juniors that day. She smiled every time she saw the bitch Rachel decked in the face, each time she swore that the black eye was worse.
The other gunners had replaced the bleach with grape juice, which was easier to restock, and Santana’s Cheerios followed her everywhere. Quinn and Rachel had been armed with grape juice guns at Santana’s insistence. She and Puck couldn’t watch everywhere; and Artie was a movable armory with all the water balloons he was packing.
The teachers were confused, but had somehow gotten an email that weekend that informed them of a World War Three drill that would be going on in the halls that week. It was conveniently signed by Sue Sylvester, Principal Figgins and many of the history teachers. The only thing they had to worry about was hiding the actual physical violence from the authority figures.
Every second she could feel the creamed Cheerio’s become more exited. They were sure Coach Sylvester would have heard, and would call an end to Santana’s reign of terror. Too bad they underestimated again. She was Santana fucking Lopez, and she had only the toughest, angriest, highest ranking allies.
-Friday Night-
“Coach Sylvester? May I speak?” Santana entered the Coaches office.
“Have at it Lopez.” The harpy like woman didn’t bother to look up. “Make it snappy though, I have to get back to designing my hovercraft.”
Santana entered and stood at attention, hands behind her back, before she spoke.
“There are going to be some shake-ups in the power structure here next week.” She said, calmly and clearly. That grabbed her Coaches attention.
“Shake ups?!” Sylvester barked.
“Yes. I’m going to do something that is going to piss off a good majority of the students.”
“What exactly are you going to do, Lopez.” It wasn’t a question, but a warning.
“You’ll forgive me, Coach, but I can’t afford to jeopardize the plan.” Santana was sweating now, but she stood her ground. Coach looked like she was going to have a stroke. Or possibly cause the young Cheerio to have one out of shear will. “I learned that from you Coach. Would it suffice to say that some of the Cheerio’s are questioning my authority as head of this squad, and what I have planned will show them exactly why I have been gifted with the title of Head of the Cheerios, along with the rest of the student body?”
Her teacher laughed. Really laughed, and muttered something about a young Sue Sylvester.
“It’s going to be chaos in these hallowed halls, Coach. I’m expecting things to get severely out of hand, or appear to be to the naked eye. I wanted to assure you that I have a handle on the situation from the beginning, down to the fact that I am going to light the spark myself. I have more than a handful of Cheerios whose loyalty I am assured of, and several others loyal to me in strategic positions in this school. I will lead them as I always have, and the dissenters will fall in line by the late Friday practice at the very latest, though I expect it will be long before that.” Coach was still laughing.
“I knew I picked right with you, Lopez!” She stood up and clapped her hand on the desk. “Is there anything you else you wanted, other than to assure me of your loyalty to the Cheerios?”
“Actually.” Santana nodded at her backpack. “With your leave coach?” The taller woman nodded and Santana headed for her bag and pulled out what looked like a drafted email message and a small thumb drive. “I wasn’t going to ask this of you unless you offered. The plan is still flawless without out it, it’s just that your life might be easier with this as an explanation, in terms of you having to, um, speak… with Principal Figgins. Seeing as that’s part of my job as head cheerleader, I figured you would want to hear it. I also take it upon myself to be discrete about any actions that would not fall under this part of the plan.” Santana grinned at this last as Sylvester read over the flyer, then proceeded to laugh again.
“Have at it Lopez. I’m trusting you on this. You have the whole of next week.” Santana grinned, recognizing the dismissal. Coach stopped her as she reached the door of her office.
“Lopez. Becky Johnson, Brittany’s friend…”
“Of course. I’ll take care of anyone that touches her, if Brittany doesn’t get there first.”
Practice rolled around, and Rachel waited high up in the bleachers near the door for her friends while Puck (who’s practice was canceled due the clumsiness of several key players) guarded the door after he had seen Quinn safely to his truck. He would be hitching from Santana that evening.
The Cheerio freshman waited for the hammer to fall on Santana, while the older girls who had been stupid enough to get in the way simply stayed in the back and hoped that their punishment for the ruined uniforms wasn’t too deadly.
They all had a rude awakening.
“Everyone with a stained uniform, sit down!” Three quarters of room hit the gym floor. Brittany, Santana, Kurt and Becky (who had magically found a spare uniform in her locker that afternoon) as well as a small handful of others who had backed Santana remained standing. The freshman were unable to go off campus and the two seniors who had not joined Santana had found their way into dumpsters once more. Several of those that snuck home to snag clean uniforms found them ruined by the end of the day anyway. Santana crossed her arms and grinned, looking past Sue at Rachel who actually seemed to be paying attention to the activities on the court.
Oh yeah. Here it comes!
“Everyone standing, in my office. Now!” The standing Cheerio’s filed past Sylvester into her office to deliver the rehearsed story that was probably not needed, as most of it was the truth. Santana remained standing, and a Cheerio in the back, thinking that they were getting off easy, giggled and whispered to her friend.
“Oooh, she’s disobeying Coach. This is gonna be bad.” Santana smiled wider.
“LOPEZ!” Santana barely avoiding twitching. That blow horn was completely unnecessary.
“Minute-ten suicides, till you return, or until I get bored and think of something worse?”
“Knew I picked right with you, Lopez.” Coach repeated once more as she walked off.
Ten minutes later, Puck was grinning and leering, holding a stopwatch in his hand calling out the end of the ten second breaks at the end of each ladder. Santana was curled up on the bleachers with Rachel, laughing at a ridiculous joke the girl had made about one of the blonde freshman girls. She was having a seriously hard time not tossing the mouthy girl down on the bleachers and jumping on top of her.
Distraction, distraction…
“Did you see which one it was that commented on me disobeying Sylvester?” She asked, by way of just such a thing. Rachel reached up and pointed to a girl on the far side of the court, her hand brushing past the other girls shoulder on its way. Santana hissed, sucking in a breath.
Fuck. Me.
“Rest!” She yelled, over the stamping feet of twenty teenagers. She counted to twenty-five in her head as the others nearly collapsed on the floor, just trying to catch their breaths.
“Shelly Connor! Pushups midcourt, and while you’re at it list off the reasons why complaining about your captain where she can here you is a very bad idea!” She took a deep breath and, slowly, put her hand down on top of Rachel’s. Only their pinky and ring fingers overlapped, but Santana’s heart jumped into her throat. Vaguely she registered Puck raising two fingers up in a signal of the time. She absently called over her shoulder before continuing her conversation with Rachel.
“The rest of you, bleachers, until I call it! I want them to hear you in California!”
"Early Breakfast"
That night was spent at Rachel’s house, as she was the only one who had a trusting enough relationship with her fathers (who happened to be going away for the next two days in any case) that they would believe her when she said nothing would happen if Puck was allowed to spend the night. Santana was sure that this was helped along by the fact that Rachel’s dad, Russell, was nearly overly obsessed with the gym, while her Daddy David was a gun enthusiast.
(When Santana learned that Rachel was, at sixteen, an experienced marksman and quite often went to the range with her father, she expressed her thought that it was fucking awesome and excused herself as soon as she could. She spent five minutes in the bathroom lightly hitting her head against the door and reciting to herself the reasons why jumping Berry in the kitchen was a bad idea.)
When she returned, it was to laughter and Brittany waving her arms around frantically.
“Then she ran into the lake and jumped the duck and brought it back to me. It was great!” Oh, fuck, the duck story. She hated the duck story.
Puck was leaning against the counter, almost doubled over laughing, Rachel’s dads had their arms around each other, chuckling. They all looked at her, and she felt a blush creep up her neck as Puck was overtaken once more by his laughter. He now looked as if he was having trouble breathing, and the diva herself sent Santana a knowing smile and changed the subject.
“So, Dad, Daddy; when did you say you were leaving?”
“Just about now, sweety, we just finished packing the car up. The number for the hotel in New York is on the fridge, and you have both of our cells, correct?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“You children be good now, no funny business.” He was serious, but laughed when he overheard Puck mutter darkly though is decreasing chuckles about not being able to get up to any ‘funny’ business with these girls even if he tried. “We left the credit card next to the phone, if you three need food or more supplies for you, uh, project at school.”
The Berry dads knew about the power trip at McKinley, or at least the food related part of it. In fact, it was they who had suggested the grape juice in the first place. Santana figured they thought that after all the years of harsh treatment they were glad her girl finally had friends who would get some payback. They graciously over looked the fact that those same friends had caused most of the trouble the last few years, though she was sure it had helped that she, Puck and Brittany had been over at least once a week almost since school started back up.
As soon as the Berry men departed, the four friends sat down around the kitchen table and discussed the strategy for the next day. After plotting out the relevant information, during which Brittany surprised Puck and Rachel with her amazing grasp on strategy, and a dinner of pigging out on pizza and movies they headed to bed.
While the house had several spare rooms, all four had decided to curl up in Rachel’s room. Though they all knew it wouldn’t be the most comfortable of options they all felt as if the events at school that day had left them wary. No one spoke of it but they were all aware that being in the same room made them all somehow feel safer.
Brittany took the love seat in the corner; Santana, after being cajoled by Berry and leered at by the boy, slipped under the covers next to Rachel. Puck, who was apparently taking his job as Second in Command a bit too seriously (Santana sensed some dorky childhood dreams involved; he had even called Quinn and told her to wait for him to get dropped off before going into school in the morning because ‘Sergeant Puckster has to protect Baby Momma in times of war), parked himself in front of the door length wise, obviously protecting them from imaginary intruders.
Turns out it was a good thing, as somewhere around two-thirty Santana heard a sickening crack sound, like someone had broken an egg…
Oh fuck. Then again. She got up in time to see Puck rushing to the window, Super Soaker strapped over his shoulder. She scrambled out of bed, limbs tangling in sheets, as the blonde rolled off the couch.
“What…” Puck put a finger to his lips as Rachel rubbed her eyes sleepily. He motioned for them to follow him, and they all traipsed downstairs in their various states of undress. Puck didn’t bother to throw anything on over the pajama pants he had slept in, and Brittany didn’t seem to be concerned in the oversized Cheerio’s t-shirt and panties she had on. Rachel threw Santana’s black hoodie on over the pink sleep set she wore, and Santana tossed an zip-up one on over her sports bra and sweats, not bothering with the zip.
“Bastards are egging the house.” He explained as the ran down the stairs and quietly opened the back door. Over the back fence Santana saw a roll of toilet paper fly over a tall tree in the front yard. She growled. Puck signaled to take them all down and they moved through the gate.
It was over in a flash, Puck spraying two football players and the star hockey goalie in the face with his still bleach filled super soaker, causing them to grab their eyes and scream. Santana backhanded a Cheerio before kneeing her in the stomach, and Rachel picked up the one Brittany had downed by the hair and shook her.
“Ok, ok, we’re sorry!” The one Berry was treating as a terrier’s chewtoy said.
“Yeah, we’ll clean it up, just don’t call the cops!” Came from the mouth of one of the jocks.
“Your fucking right you will. Get to it.” Santana ordered as Rachel dropped Shelly Connor on the cement walkway.
By morning, the house looked immaculate, every trace of egg and toilet paper gone. Rachel had spent the hour of cleanup lecturing their classmates on the legal, extra-curricular and parental ramifications of vandalism. Santana watched her tiny diva rant and scare the living hell out of their impromptu cleaning crew. She pulled out her cellphone, that was thankfully in the pocket of the hoodie, and sent out a text calling for an emergency meeting.
When Connor collapsed around three o’clock, Puck carried her to the other Cheerio’s car and laid her carefully on the backseat. The jocks started to slow down at three-ten, and Puck sprayed them with the hose while Brittany laughed, turning no handed cartwheels and back-handsprings on the front lawn.
A/N: Just for the record, any time Rachel is referred to as 'hers', including the time when Santana is thinking about how and why Rachel's dads helped them with Slushy War is completely deliberate. Santana's slipping, guys... how long is she gonna be able to hide it. *Snickers and grins*
Next Chapter: Day Two, Strategy and a Secret Genius
Author: Helion
Chapters: Chapter 3; The Great Slushy War, Days Zero and One
(Get ready for more dorky!Puck)
Pairing: Rachel/Santana, illusions to Brittany/Santana (past)
Rating: PG-13-R (This may change)
Summary: After being named the scariest ruling psycho-bitch in three counties, there is really just one thing Santana Lopez would like to know.
Warnings: Language, Implied dirty thoughts, violence and slushy related stickiness. =D
Spoilers: 1x18-1x19
Disclaimer: If they were mine, we wouldn't NEED fanfiction. Also, Glee would prolly be on Showtime, because the places that my brain takes them are not FCC compatible.
A/N: This has officially turned into a monster.
Its looking like it might end up longer than 7 chapters, so it might take me a little bit longer to update now as we're nearing the end of the already written chapters. However, I do have the next one finished and will be starting on the following one tonight so it shouldn't be much of a wait.
A/N 2: Ok, so from this point on just assume that things happening in the show are roughly happening in the background. This part takes place after the previously mentioned cannon but before Funk and Theatricality (which for this fic are in that order, as they were supposed to be before Fox started screwing with the schedule). So its kinda in no-mans land in between episodes. Also, I'm finally starting to develop Santana and Rachel (just a little, don't get your hopes too high. I promise I'll get there though!) so any feed back on that would be awesome. Also, I may have had a bit too much fun with this chapter, but I'll let you guys be the judge of that. Anyway, I'll stop rambling, here ya go!
World War S: The Great Slushy War (Day Zero)
Santana laughed as she marched through the halls of McKinley on Monday morning. Freshmen ducked into bathrooms (like that would save them if she had actually taken notice), sophomores hid behind juniors, juniors held up their notebooks in front of their faces or vital bits of clothing. She even noticed three-quarters of the seniors backing into corners. Jew-fro (who was lucky she had beaten Georgeo before she found out about his latest bid for Rachel’s underwear) collapsed into a literal puddle of fear, doing a Tony award winning impression of Puck’s unborn daughter.
Even the original glee kids backed up against lockers and stared on in recognition and confusion. Santana Lopez was head bitch in charge, and everyone knew it. Even Fabray crossed her arms on top of her baby bump, sighing and raising an eyebrow; then stood and waited to see if she was going to be the latest victim of Santana’s possible clinical insanity. She noticed with self-satisfied smirk, as she turned to face Rachel, that everyone but a handful of seniors, Jew-fro (who was still immobile but watching) and Preggo had booked it for the nearest doorway as she passed.
Berry, for her part, had the grace to not dive out of the way; nor did she bother to squeeze her eyes shut for the expectant syrupy shower. She stared Santana straight in the eye and took a deep breath and let it slip out in a breathy whisper.
“Santana?”
Santana held out her hand slowly, and Rachel took the oversized red cup and grinned when she looked in it to find, not purple but tropical blue colored icy goodness. Santana took one more look down the hallway to steal her nerves and remind herself of her badass status, then looked back into her favorite set of eyes.
“Puck said it worked for him.” She said. When Rachel opened her mouth to release what was sure to be a long winded Rachel speech about… well she didn’t care what about right now… Santana held up her newly freed hand.
“Just-just let me say this ok? Puck said the slushy deal worked for him, so I thought I’d try it; but with a twist. I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. Especially the slushies though. Q may have been the one that told us to hit you with them, but, well, it was my idea first. I tossed the first one at that creepy Jacob-Ben Israel kid in seventh grade. So it was my fault. All of it, every time you got hit with one whether I threw it or not, it was all my fault.”
She stopped to take a breath but continued before Rachel could speak up (which was impressive considering it was Rachel, fuck yeah she knew her girl).
“I made sure though… that you never got hit with this.” She looked down, then back up into the pretty brown eyes. “Quinn thought she was making it worse, but that’s the one thing I don’t regret. ‘Blueberry’s her favorite’, I said. So Quinn ordered you never got hit with one of those, cuz you might like it or something stupid, and it kinda got around. I couldn’t though, I never wanted those summer afternoons when your dads would take the three of us to the QuikStop and then the park, I didn’t want ruining those memories to be on my hands too…” Rachel laughed and Santana stopped talking, staring nervously.
“You remembered. You remembered my favorite.” Then Santana laughed too, and she was hit with that billion-watt Berry smile.
“Well, yeah, you got the same thing every day for three years. I remember that’s how we cheered you up when someone made fun of your dads. Blueberry for a blue Berry.” Rachel cringed at the remembered joke.
“Lame wasn’t it?” It was Rachel’s turn to hold up her hand. “It wasn’t your fault. Or, well it wasn’t all your fault, and the bits that were I forgive you for.” She smiled at Santana, and the Latina noticed, not for the first time, when she was around the little diva acted less like an Ivy-league dictionary and more like a sixteen-year-old girl. She held out her arm and grinned, both of them knowing it was a good natured jab at Puck and his clumsiness. Rachel linked her arm with Santana’s, taking a sip of her drink through the provided straw looking through her eyelashes at Santana. Utter faux innocence, complete with a smirk.
Fuck. Focus. Not done Lopez.
“Wait.” Santana stopped, looking over with her patented look of disgust, at Jew-Fro who had managed to drag himself out of his fetal position and onto his feet again. He backed up so quickly he hit the lockers with a bang. “How much was it? That he offered for your underwear?” Rachel looked shocked for a moment, before answering, her face a little red.
“N-nothing. He said he would give Glee club a bad review if I-I didn’t…” Santana’s face twisted more, and she swore Jew-Fro’s knee’s were knocking together. Before Rachel had finished her sentence he had a face full of green slushy.
“You know, I think I always liked Berry flavored better anyway.” Her face angelic once more, grin replacing scowl, she turned to the shorter girl and held out her hand.
“May I?”
The brunette grinned, her eyes sparkling, and raised the straw to Santana’s lips. The Latina took a sip, licking her lips.
“Yup. Definitely my favorite. Come on Estrella.” When they were two steps away, just as Israel relaxed, assuming the slushy was the worst of his punishment, Santana held up her free hand and snapped her fingers. “If we’re late for Spanish, Schuester won’t shut up about it in glee, and I’d rather sing than listen to him carry on about responsibility any day.”
She was sure Rachel didn’t see Puck, Mike Chang and another random football player push off from their places lining the hallway and advance on the ill-fated boy. She was pretty sure, however, that the Rachel she was getting to know again wouldn’t give a god-damn.
Day One
The next three days at McKinley High School had the student body as at Def-con 1; something that had never been declared by students in this Midwestern, mostly middle class town. Every social group was up in arms, and icy death, and any other reliable food based or otherwise weapon they could get away with. The jocks were rarely without slushies, having somehow smuggled in a machine. The drama club carried around super soakers. The Drama and Art clubs teamed up to protect each other with tubes of oil paint, a seriously lethal combination.
The original glee kids, having been warned, had taken to wearing plastic rain-poncho’s again. All except Rachel, who was attached to the side of either Santana, who had pushed the big red button when she declared Rachel her friend; Puck, the Latina’s most trusted general in her fight against idiots and uppity Cheerio’s who thought that because she broke the social norms, she was automatically out; or Brittany who was seen, on all sides, as untouchable.
It started out small on Tuesday morning. Santana, having spent the evening with Rachel, Puck and Brittany at Rachel’s house, had showed up to school with the other three; and without her Cheerio uniform. The freshman on the squad, as well as several students Santana had terrorized in times past saw it as an opportunity. It was almost heresy for someone on the squad to be on campus during school hours without their uniform. It meant the attack was immediate and swift.
Unfortunately for them they overlooked the obvious calculated move by Santana. She had always kept an emergency uniform in her Cheerio locker incase of bloodshed. Brittany, while in uniform and rarely in the line of fire, happened to keep a spare one in hers incase of food or duck related mishaps. This way, she wouldn’t be down a uniform so early in the day and she got to be in cloths more suited to kicking ass. So, guessing the move that the younger, power hungry but less ruthless cheerleaders would make, she tried to keep the smirk off her face when they surrounded her.
Rachel moved behind Puck and Santana with Brittany, as the younger students launched a slushy attack even more legendary than the one that hit Hudson and Fabray when news of Babygate broke. Santana and Puck looked at each other, ice cold stickiness running down their faces, while the younger kids laughed and congratulated each other. Smirks worked themselves onto dark faces, while the attackers were unaware of just how much danger they were in. The large boy was in as little clothing as he could get away with, and Puck was the first to grin; he and Santana looking for all the world like sharks getting ready for a feeding frenzy. He signaled the attack, pulling his stained t-shirt over his head and tossing it in the face of the closest Junior Varsity jock.
Santana charged. Two Cheerio’s were down before they knew what was happening, and those loyal to Santana had moved in and slushied three others. Santana made sure to hit where it hurt, but in strategic places covered by Cheerio uniforms, she made sure to leave them able to function just enough to listen to Coaches “YOU THINK THIS IS HARD!” speech through the groaning. The jocks, of which there were more of, she was less careful with. She was sure she heard a few bones break.
Puck had taken down two smaller basketball players, who were now bleeding against the lockers. Mike Chang and Rutherford moved in and iced two more Cheerio’s before turning on the remaining jocks with their favorite weapons, their fists. Tina, who was placed strategically by the art room, came at them with oil paint; from behind her, out of the home economics room came streams of blue liquid. Further inspection revealed Kurt (another loyal cheerio), Mercedes and Hudson with squirt guns full of strong bleach diluted just enough to spray the Cheerios’ usually pristine, bright red uniforms. As Santana decked the last of the Cheerios in the stomach for the second time she noticed Artie and Quinn tossing water balloons full of grape juice over the heads of the three gunners. The blonde girl had a feral grin on her face and looked to be enjoying herself even more than the others.
She laughed heartily, turning in time to see Britt kick a jock in the nuts for slushying her friend Becky (one of Santana’s loyals), and Rachel kick the shin of, and then deliver a mean right hook to, a Cheerio who had Suzie Pepper in a headlock.
Fuck that’s hot.
Two more Cheerio’s attempted to rise. Santana kicked one of them in the stomach, and the other in the back and they both groaned and fell back into their places at her feet. She looked at her watch.
“LISTEN UP! You all fell! If I hear otherwise, the next retaliation will make this look like a fucking beach trip, got it!?” When nobody responded, she kicked a Varsity Football player in the face. “I can’t hear you!” A collective groan went up among the group. It was obvious that those that could rise had thought better of it. Rachel was giving her a look that said she had enjoyed this version of the Latina’s insanity more than she was comfortable with. Santana mourned the fact that she had to shower and change before class, otherwise she may have just bent Berry over right there in that hallway, consequences be damned.
“All right! Puckerman, Chang, Rutherford. Clean up, fifteen minutes!”
Between the Cheerio loyals and the Glee jocks, they had the rest of the (no longer) uppity bitches and overly cocky jocks packed away in various dumpsters around the school with five minutes to spare before Figgins, Pillsbury, or any other teacher that gave a damn showed up.
So, the Great Slushy War begins.
Santana was untouchable for the rest of the day. She wasn’t delusional enough to think that it would last, but she worked it while she could. Even the Cheerio’s not involved in the incident that morning moved out of her way. The battles in the halls temporarily stopped when she walked by, and most of the day she had Rachel by her side.
Puck walked the halls shirtless, in his shorts and combat boots. Equipped with a Super Soaker full of bleach over his shoulder, he was body guarding Quinn and anyone else he felt like, and spraying any of the rebellious Cheerios he saw (only two of which had changes of uniform). Matt and Mike only had to punch two juniors that day. She smiled every time she saw the bitch Rachel decked in the face, each time she swore that the black eye was worse.
The other gunners had replaced the bleach with grape juice, which was easier to restock, and Santana’s Cheerios followed her everywhere. Quinn and Rachel had been armed with grape juice guns at Santana’s insistence. She and Puck couldn’t watch everywhere; and Artie was a movable armory with all the water balloons he was packing.
The teachers were confused, but had somehow gotten an email that weekend that informed them of a World War Three drill that would be going on in the halls that week. It was conveniently signed by Sue Sylvester, Principal Figgins and many of the history teachers. The only thing they had to worry about was hiding the actual physical violence from the authority figures.
Every second she could feel the creamed Cheerio’s become more exited. They were sure Coach Sylvester would have heard, and would call an end to Santana’s reign of terror. Too bad they underestimated again. She was Santana fucking Lopez, and she had only the toughest, angriest, highest ranking allies.
-Friday Night-
“Coach Sylvester? May I speak?” Santana entered the Coaches office.
“Have at it Lopez.” The harpy like woman didn’t bother to look up. “Make it snappy though, I have to get back to designing my hovercraft.”
Santana entered and stood at attention, hands behind her back, before she spoke.
“There are going to be some shake-ups in the power structure here next week.” She said, calmly and clearly. That grabbed her Coaches attention.
“Shake ups?!” Sylvester barked.
“Yes. I’m going to do something that is going to piss off a good majority of the students.”
“What exactly are you going to do, Lopez.” It wasn’t a question, but a warning.
“You’ll forgive me, Coach, but I can’t afford to jeopardize the plan.” Santana was sweating now, but she stood her ground. Coach looked like she was going to have a stroke. Or possibly cause the young Cheerio to have one out of shear will. “I learned that from you Coach. Would it suffice to say that some of the Cheerio’s are questioning my authority as head of this squad, and what I have planned will show them exactly why I have been gifted with the title of Head of the Cheerios, along with the rest of the student body?”
Her teacher laughed. Really laughed, and muttered something about a young Sue Sylvester.
“It’s going to be chaos in these hallowed halls, Coach. I’m expecting things to get severely out of hand, or appear to be to the naked eye. I wanted to assure you that I have a handle on the situation from the beginning, down to the fact that I am going to light the spark myself. I have more than a handful of Cheerios whose loyalty I am assured of, and several others loyal to me in strategic positions in this school. I will lead them as I always have, and the dissenters will fall in line by the late Friday practice at the very latest, though I expect it will be long before that.” Coach was still laughing.
“I knew I picked right with you, Lopez!” She stood up and clapped her hand on the desk. “Is there anything you else you wanted, other than to assure me of your loyalty to the Cheerios?”
“Actually.” Santana nodded at her backpack. “With your leave coach?” The taller woman nodded and Santana headed for her bag and pulled out what looked like a drafted email message and a small thumb drive. “I wasn’t going to ask this of you unless you offered. The plan is still flawless without out it, it’s just that your life might be easier with this as an explanation, in terms of you having to, um, speak… with Principal Figgins. Seeing as that’s part of my job as head cheerleader, I figured you would want to hear it. I also take it upon myself to be discrete about any actions that would not fall under this part of the plan.” Santana grinned at this last as Sylvester read over the flyer, then proceeded to laugh again.
“Have at it Lopez. I’m trusting you on this. You have the whole of next week.” Santana grinned, recognizing the dismissal. Coach stopped her as she reached the door of her office.
“Lopez. Becky Johnson, Brittany’s friend…”
“Of course. I’ll take care of anyone that touches her, if Brittany doesn’t get there first.”
Practice rolled around, and Rachel waited high up in the bleachers near the door for her friends while Puck (who’s practice was canceled due the clumsiness of several key players) guarded the door after he had seen Quinn safely to his truck. He would be hitching from Santana that evening.
The Cheerio freshman waited for the hammer to fall on Santana, while the older girls who had been stupid enough to get in the way simply stayed in the back and hoped that their punishment for the ruined uniforms wasn’t too deadly.
They all had a rude awakening.
“Everyone with a stained uniform, sit down!” Three quarters of room hit the gym floor. Brittany, Santana, Kurt and Becky (who had magically found a spare uniform in her locker that afternoon) as well as a small handful of others who had backed Santana remained standing. The freshman were unable to go off campus and the two seniors who had not joined Santana had found their way into dumpsters once more. Several of those that snuck home to snag clean uniforms found them ruined by the end of the day anyway. Santana crossed her arms and grinned, looking past Sue at Rachel who actually seemed to be paying attention to the activities on the court.
Oh yeah. Here it comes!
“Everyone standing, in my office. Now!” The standing Cheerio’s filed past Sylvester into her office to deliver the rehearsed story that was probably not needed, as most of it was the truth. Santana remained standing, and a Cheerio in the back, thinking that they were getting off easy, giggled and whispered to her friend.
“Oooh, she’s disobeying Coach. This is gonna be bad.” Santana smiled wider.
“LOPEZ!” Santana barely avoiding twitching. That blow horn was completely unnecessary.
“Minute-ten suicides, till you return, or until I get bored and think of something worse?”
“Knew I picked right with you, Lopez.” Coach repeated once more as she walked off.
Ten minutes later, Puck was grinning and leering, holding a stopwatch in his hand calling out the end of the ten second breaks at the end of each ladder. Santana was curled up on the bleachers with Rachel, laughing at a ridiculous joke the girl had made about one of the blonde freshman girls. She was having a seriously hard time not tossing the mouthy girl down on the bleachers and jumping on top of her.
Distraction, distraction…
“Did you see which one it was that commented on me disobeying Sylvester?” She asked, by way of just such a thing. Rachel reached up and pointed to a girl on the far side of the court, her hand brushing past the other girls shoulder on its way. Santana hissed, sucking in a breath.
Fuck. Me.
“Rest!” She yelled, over the stamping feet of twenty teenagers. She counted to twenty-five in her head as the others nearly collapsed on the floor, just trying to catch their breaths.
“Shelly Connor! Pushups midcourt, and while you’re at it list off the reasons why complaining about your captain where she can here you is a very bad idea!” She took a deep breath and, slowly, put her hand down on top of Rachel’s. Only their pinky and ring fingers overlapped, but Santana’s heart jumped into her throat. Vaguely she registered Puck raising two fingers up in a signal of the time. She absently called over her shoulder before continuing her conversation with Rachel.
“The rest of you, bleachers, until I call it! I want them to hear you in California!”
"Early Breakfast"
That night was spent at Rachel’s house, as she was the only one who had a trusting enough relationship with her fathers (who happened to be going away for the next two days in any case) that they would believe her when she said nothing would happen if Puck was allowed to spend the night. Santana was sure that this was helped along by the fact that Rachel’s dad, Russell, was nearly overly obsessed with the gym, while her Daddy David was a gun enthusiast.
(When Santana learned that Rachel was, at sixteen, an experienced marksman and quite often went to the range with her father, she expressed her thought that it was fucking awesome and excused herself as soon as she could. She spent five minutes in the bathroom lightly hitting her head against the door and reciting to herself the reasons why jumping Berry in the kitchen was a bad idea.)
When she returned, it was to laughter and Brittany waving her arms around frantically.
“Then she ran into the lake and jumped the duck and brought it back to me. It was great!” Oh, fuck, the duck story. She hated the duck story.
Puck was leaning against the counter, almost doubled over laughing, Rachel’s dads had their arms around each other, chuckling. They all looked at her, and she felt a blush creep up her neck as Puck was overtaken once more by his laughter. He now looked as if he was having trouble breathing, and the diva herself sent Santana a knowing smile and changed the subject.
“So, Dad, Daddy; when did you say you were leaving?”
“Just about now, sweety, we just finished packing the car up. The number for the hotel in New York is on the fridge, and you have both of our cells, correct?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“You children be good now, no funny business.” He was serious, but laughed when he overheard Puck mutter darkly though is decreasing chuckles about not being able to get up to any ‘funny’ business with these girls even if he tried. “We left the credit card next to the phone, if you three need food or more supplies for you, uh, project at school.”
The Berry dads knew about the power trip at McKinley, or at least the food related part of it. In fact, it was they who had suggested the grape juice in the first place. Santana figured they thought that after all the years of harsh treatment they were glad her girl finally had friends who would get some payback. They graciously over looked the fact that those same friends had caused most of the trouble the last few years, though she was sure it had helped that she, Puck and Brittany had been over at least once a week almost since school started back up.
As soon as the Berry men departed, the four friends sat down around the kitchen table and discussed the strategy for the next day. After plotting out the relevant information, during which Brittany surprised Puck and Rachel with her amazing grasp on strategy, and a dinner of pigging out on pizza and movies they headed to bed.
While the house had several spare rooms, all four had decided to curl up in Rachel’s room. Though they all knew it wouldn’t be the most comfortable of options they all felt as if the events at school that day had left them wary. No one spoke of it but they were all aware that being in the same room made them all somehow feel safer.
Brittany took the love seat in the corner; Santana, after being cajoled by Berry and leered at by the boy, slipped under the covers next to Rachel. Puck, who was apparently taking his job as Second in Command a bit too seriously (Santana sensed some dorky childhood dreams involved; he had even called Quinn and told her to wait for him to get dropped off before going into school in the morning because ‘Sergeant Puckster has to protect Baby Momma in times of war), parked himself in front of the door length wise, obviously protecting them from imaginary intruders.
Turns out it was a good thing, as somewhere around two-thirty Santana heard a sickening crack sound, like someone had broken an egg…
Oh fuck. Then again. She got up in time to see Puck rushing to the window, Super Soaker strapped over his shoulder. She scrambled out of bed, limbs tangling in sheets, as the blonde rolled off the couch.
“What…” Puck put a finger to his lips as Rachel rubbed her eyes sleepily. He motioned for them to follow him, and they all traipsed downstairs in their various states of undress. Puck didn’t bother to throw anything on over the pajama pants he had slept in, and Brittany didn’t seem to be concerned in the oversized Cheerio’s t-shirt and panties she had on. Rachel threw Santana’s black hoodie on over the pink sleep set she wore, and Santana tossed an zip-up one on over her sports bra and sweats, not bothering with the zip.
“Bastards are egging the house.” He explained as the ran down the stairs and quietly opened the back door. Over the back fence Santana saw a roll of toilet paper fly over a tall tree in the front yard. She growled. Puck signaled to take them all down and they moved through the gate.
It was over in a flash, Puck spraying two football players and the star hockey goalie in the face with his still bleach filled super soaker, causing them to grab their eyes and scream. Santana backhanded a Cheerio before kneeing her in the stomach, and Rachel picked up the one Brittany had downed by the hair and shook her.
“Ok, ok, we’re sorry!” The one Berry was treating as a terrier’s chewtoy said.
“Yeah, we’ll clean it up, just don’t call the cops!” Came from the mouth of one of the jocks.
“Your fucking right you will. Get to it.” Santana ordered as Rachel dropped Shelly Connor on the cement walkway.
By morning, the house looked immaculate, every trace of egg and toilet paper gone. Rachel had spent the hour of cleanup lecturing their classmates on the legal, extra-curricular and parental ramifications of vandalism. Santana watched her tiny diva rant and scare the living hell out of their impromptu cleaning crew. She pulled out her cellphone, that was thankfully in the pocket of the hoodie, and sent out a text calling for an emergency meeting.
When Connor collapsed around three o’clock, Puck carried her to the other Cheerio’s car and laid her carefully on the backseat. The jocks started to slow down at three-ten, and Puck sprayed them with the hose while Brittany laughed, turning no handed cartwheels and back-handsprings on the front lawn.
A/N: Just for the record, any time Rachel is referred to as 'hers', including the time when Santana is thinking about how and why Rachel's dads helped them with Slushy War is completely deliberate. Santana's slipping, guys... how long is she gonna be able to hide it. *Snickers and grins*
Next Chapter: Day Two, Strategy and a Secret Genius