fic: It Went Swimmingly
Title: It Went Swimmingly
Author: slacker_d
Pairing/Characters: Rachel/Santana, Puck, Brittany, Quinn, Figgins
Rating: light R
Summary: Brittany and Rachel pull a prank; while Santana gets talked into doing something crazy by Puck.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: ~5,000
Spoilers: Nope.
A/N: Follow Rapiers at Dawn.
2nd A/N: Unbeta’ed, so all mistakes are mine.
Flow Charts Are Never Wrong | Revelations and Confrontations | Cuffed | Physics and Golf | The Student Becomes the Master | Breaking Into School is Easy to Do | Keeping Up Appearances | Games People Play | Ink and Gossip | Like That Movie, Open Water | Berry verses Lopez | Playing With Fire | Organized Chaos Abound | Best Served Cold | Rapiers at Dawn
Quinn expects Berry's victory over her to be a point of contention in her life. The next day, when Quinn is at her locker and Rachel walks by, she braces herself for a cruel or disparaging comment. It never comes.
Quinn also expects Berry to attempt the power play she spoke of, trying to take away Quinn's popularity. Quinn can admit to herself, at least, that it is legitimacy possible. But the social hierarchy stays in place.
The only thing that seems to change is how the other glee kids react to her. And that seems to be their own personal biases and not influenced at all by anything Rachel does or says. It's not bad exactly, just a bit colder. As if she's a shiny new toy that's suddenly lost its appeal.
She hates it. But there's nothing she can do about it. The only thing that saves her from freaking out is that it's happening on such a small scale. Her popularity outside of the glee club, saves her sanity.
Quinn gives Berry a wide berth now, activity staying out of her way. The infection that is Rachel Berry has infiltrated her life and so Quinn does her best to just avoid it.
…
Rachel can actually feel the difference in her interaction with Quinn. Granted, the contact they have is miniscule, but the difference is enough to convince that competing was the right decision.
Despite participating, Rachel had thought the whole ordeal unnecessary. But it was obviously important to Quinn, so Rachel went along with it. Besides, she's now thrown a javelin and knows the basics of archery. As someone striving for new experiences, she's quite pleased about those aspects.
And Brittany seems ecstatic. The fact that she won so many things, has kept her giddy for days. This makes for a playful and exuberant Brittany who will randomly pick Rachel up in the halls and spin her in circles.
So it's no surprise to Rachel when Brittany suggests they should pull a prank together.
"How come we never have?" Brittany asks after Rachel agrees. "You did one with Puck and with Santana and you even did one for Coach."
Rachel shrugs. "I didn't realize you were interested."
"Duh," Brittany replies. "You're like my favorite Rachel shaped person, of course I want to pull a prank with you."
"Ah, thanks Britt," Rachel says. "You're my favorite Brittany shaped person."
…
"S is going to be mad at us," Brittany tells Rachel.
"Only because she'll be bored," Rachel replies.
"What if she thinks we're doing it?" Brittany asks.
Instead of the usual bro night, Rachel and Brittany decided to spend it together planning a prank. Brittany just seemed so eager and Rachel can't say no to her. Oddly, Noah seemed okay with the decision. He said, he'd have no trouble finding other entertainment. It all sounded rather ominous to Rachel, but she just shrugged it off, knowing she'd hear about it all too soon.
"We should totally make out," Brittany suggests.
"Maybe later."
"Okay."
"So did you have any prank ideas?"
"How about a slushie fountain? Oooh, or better yet, a slushie waterfall."
"Maybe," Rachel says. "Though, I'm not sure about the logistics.
"Or we chain all the teachers' cars to each other."
"That one would be difficult to pull off without being caught," Rachel points out.
"We paint a stripe on the floor that circles the whole school and then meets back up with itself. I bet tons of people would follow it to see where it goes."
Rachel giggles. "That's completely absurd."
"I know, right," Brittany smirks.
"Well it'd certainly be easy," Rachel says.
"What about something that throws fish?" Brittany asks. "I like fish."
"I'm not sure I'm up for something involving dead animals, Britt," Rachel replies. "Even if they're already dead and in plastic."
"Right. I guess that makes sense." They're both quiet for a moment, before Brittany begins bouncing. "Can we make a pond?"
"Um…"
"We fill the swimming pool with fish and turtles and ducks."
Rachel rolls the idea around in her head. "It sounds doable, I think."
"Yay," Brittany replies, tackling Rachel in a hug.
"Don't get too excited," Rachel says. "We still have to plan it."
…
Santana can't believe it's Friday night and she's been ditched by her best friend and girlfriend. If they were different sort of people, Santana would think they were having sex. But Rachel already explained Brittany wanted to pull a prank. She's fine with that, she just hates being left out.
Her cell phone rings and she doesn't bother checking the ID before answering.
"What?"
"Lopez," Puck says. "I see you're still a little pissy about being ditched."
"Whatever."
"All right," Puck continues. "I have three very important questions for you."
"What?"
"One. Do you still play chess?"
"Yeah."
"Two. You feel like kicking some ass?"
"Hell, yeah," Santana answers.
"Three. Are you ready to have your mind blown?"
"By you?" Santana scoffs. "Can't wait to see it.
"Awesome. I'll be over at nine. Wear workout clothes."
"I'm not going anywhere with you, Puckerman.
"Trust me, it's going to be epic."
"Trust you? Ha!"
"Keep it up and I'll call your boss up and she'll just make you come with me anyway," Puck tells her.
"She would not."
"I am very persuasive."
Santana mulls it over. It's not like she has anything going on. Not that she'd admit that to Puck. And she can acknowledge to herself at least, that she is intrigued.
"Fine," Santana says, finally. "But if it sucks, I get to kick you in the balls."
"Deal."
Santana raises an eyebrow as they hang up. Tonight might not actually suck. If Puckerman's willing to wager getting kicked in the nuts, it might actually be interesting.
…
Santana's out the door the minute Puckerman honks his truck horn. Her mother, being so surprised that Santana is home, has been attempting to do some mother/daughter bonding. She wants nothing to do with that. Santana never thought she'd be relieved that Puck invited her out.
"So where the fuck are we going, Pucky?" Santana asks as the truck reverses out of the driveway.
"It's a surprise."
"Your surprises usually involve alcohol and a bad decision," Santana replies. "So no thanks."
"Usually you'd be right," Puck says. "But not tonight."
"I’m not in the mood for your little games."
"Just shut up and enjoy the ride, Lopez," Puck snaps. "We've got a bit of a drive in front of us."
"Should knee you in the balls anyway," Santana grumbles, leaning back.
…
Almost an hour later, Puck pulls up to an abandoned warehouse. There are a number of cars parked around it that Santana can make out in the dim light.
"You brought me to your fight club?" Santana asks. "How is that a surprise?"
"Not exactly," Puck says, climbing out of the truck, a backpack over one shoulder.
Santana is about to ask what the hell he needs that for, when a thought occurs to her. "Please tell me it's not dog fighting."
"Are you kidding? Rach would kick my ass if I ever went to something like that."
They're standing in front of the door and Puck knocks once, pauses, then twice, then pauses and then knocks again.
"Secret knocks, really?" Santana mutters.
The door slowly swings open with a creak.
Santana follows Puck through a maze of darkness and corners until they come to a card table. Behind it sits a middle-aged guy with glasses. On the table is a clipboard, a stack of paper and a cash box.
"Name?" the guy intones.
"Santana Lopez," Puck answers.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Santana whispers.
"Trust me."
"There's a $250 entry fee."
Puck nods and hands over a roll of cash. Santana's eyes boggle.
"Through those doors," the guy says, pointing. "They'll give you a number when you're up."
Puck nods and drags Santana away, towards the door.
They're in a gym. Santana looks around and sees a massive board with brackets on it. Above it reads, Chess Boxing Tournament.
"What. The. Fuck."
"It's exactly what it says," Puck explains. "You play a four minute round of chess, then box for three minutes and then you keep doing that until someone wins, either by knockout or checkmate."
"You're serious?"
"Hell yeah!"
"And you just signed me up for it?"
"Obviously."
"Without asking?!"
"Hey, I'd do it," Puck says. "But I don't know how to play chess. If I remember correctly, you're pretty decent at it. And we both know you can fight."
"Yeah, but--"
"And think how awesome it'd be if you won," Puck continues. "Plus, I just laid down two fifty."
Santana looks around. It's all men; in the audience and as fighters. She looks at the ones wearing numbers. She could probably take them. What she lacks in size, she more than makes up for with speed, agility and tenaciousness.
"Fine," Santana agrees. "But you have to help explain to Rach if I look like hell tomorrow."
"Deal."
The pair walks over to the registration table. They hand her a number, 8, ask her height and weight and then place her in the bracket.
According to the bracket on the board, there are three rounds in the single elimination tournament. She's the last one to sign up. She's pitted against number Two and they're the second fight. Looking, she tries to spot her opponent.
She finally sees him in the corner, throwing punches to warm up. He reminds her a little of Finn, though skinnier. She can totally take him.
She and Puck find a little corner where she can warm up and stretch. Puck also takes the time to quietly further explain things. By the time the first fight is about to start, Santana feels confident in her chances.
…
When the three round fight between Six and One is over, Santana is actually glad Puck signed her up, though she'd never admit it. Watching the match had been such an odd contrast of the cerebral and the brutal; she found it oddly appealing.
Bouncing around a bit to warm up, Santana nods at her opponent, who nods back. They both sit at the chess board and shake hands over it.
"Begin."
With the noise defenders on and her intense need to win, everything else falls away and she's able to focus only on the chess. She wouldn't call herself a chess player, but she spent enough time in her prepubescent years playing that she feels like she'll make a good showing. The speed chess also appeals to her, it goes well with the adrenaline that's already coursing through her.
And then suddenly she's up, putting on boxing gloves that Puck apparently brought with him while they remove the chess board.
The bell dings and she's fighting; dodging, feigning and managing a lot of hits. Her reflexes are what make her confident that she's going to win. When the round's over, she knows if it comes down to it, she definite won that round, point wise.
Attempting to play chess while sweaty and bloody is a surreal experience. Once again, the noise defenders help and though it takes a bit longer, she's able to zone everything else out and focus.
In fact, it's even more difficult to switch gears when the round is over, because it took so much effort to find her focus before. But not wanting to lose, she shakes it off best she can and tries to direct her adrenaline to fighting instead of thinking.
Another round of chess and another round of boxing. Each time the contrast of the intellectual versus the physical is more jarring. The biggest challenge is keeping it together in the first minute of each differing round.
And then she lands a perfect right hook to the jaw that knocks him to the floor. She watches, heart pounding in her ears, panting as the ref counts to ten. Her opponent tries to get up, but barely manages to sit upright.
A moment later, the match is over and Santana is declared victor.
…
The next two matches take about the same amount of time and Santana is given a significant break before the standings are posted. She's feeling pretty good about her chances. All she has to do is to win the next fight and she'll be guaranteed a cash prize. She plans on winning the whole thing, but it's nice to know if she doesn't, there's still a good reason to go through all this.
Besides, being able to say that she's participated in a chess boxing match.
Five and Three lose and so Santana is pitted against number Four, a bulky looking man who is rather intimidating.
Still, Santana's determined to win and she's not going to be daunted by this blow hard. Just watching and overhearing things, she can already tell she'd want to punch him outside of the boxing ring. This makes her sure she's going to win. That and he's had far less time to rest than she has.
…
With renewed focus and confidence, Santana sits down to the first round of chess. It's even faster and more furious than her first match. This guy obviously means business. Santana digs deep in her brain to come up with ideas to counter his moves.
They're much further along when the noise defenders are pulled off this time. Each goes to their corners and puts on their boxing gloves. The bell dings and quickly, they're dodging and weaving.
Santana knows the odds of her winning the boxing are significantly less this match because of her opponent's size in relation to hers, so she plans to do the best she can and try to win on the chessboard.
She manages to get in a few good punches, but she's definitely feeling fatigued when they sit down to the second round of chess. Also, the dripping blood is very distracting.
Santana feels like she's three or four moves away from checkmate when the round ends. She wonders if her opponent is just fucking with her, letting her think that or if it's actually true. She can only continue her strategy and hope for the best.
It is obvious that her energy level is low, but she does her best. She spends most of the round, evading and hates herself a bit for it. But she needs to be able to survive until the next round of chess, so it's all she can do. Her actions are obviously making number Four cocky and Santana can easily see that. She hopes that will make him sloppy at the chessboard.
Wiping the sweat out of her eyes, Santana begins, what she hopes, are winning moves towards checkmate. Staring across the chessboard, she can still feel the hubris coming off him in waves and fights to keep focus.
And then her opponent has ripped off his noise defenders and dropped them on the ground in disgust. Santana's arm is held up in victory. She's won.
…
The spike of adrenaline has waned, but she's still riding the high of making it to the final round. Not only will she be making some money, but she has real proof of her badassery; though it's mostly in the form a bruised jaw and a black eye.
She and Puck watch the other match closely. It's close as far as Santana can tell, though it is obvious that Seven is struggling against One's efforts. Puck mutters that her final bout is going to be difficult and she can only nod in agreement. She sips more water, trying to calm her pounding heart.
The only, only advantage she has is that she'll once again have a longer resting period. Otherwise, she is outmatched in weight, height and boxing ability, as well as probably facing a seasoned chess player. Boxer One creamed his opponent in the first round by achieving checkmate only a minute into their second round of chess. And the only reason it took so long was that boxer Six took the maximum amount of time given to move his white pieces.
Once One has crushed Seven, Santana does her best to ignore her surroundings and not get psyched out. She's got a strategy for the boxing and an unorthodox plan for the chess. She hopes it's enough.
…
Just before she climbs into the ring, Puck grabs her by the shoulders and moves in close, so she can hear him over the din.
"You can do this, Lopez," he says. "You're Santana fucking Lopez, the bitchiest, badass chick I know that never loses because she refuses to quit. Think about what you could do with that money. He's underestimating you because of your size, but especially because you're a girl. Prove him wrong." And then smacks her on the shoulders and pushes her into the ring.
They shake hands over the chessboard and sit. Eyes locked, they both put on the noise defenders and One moves a white rook forward.
And then it's a series of quick, furious movement as Santana plays on instinct, but trying to keep her plan in mind. The four minutes pass in the blink of an eye and Santana is putting boxing gloves on. She takes a sip of water and a fist bump from Puck and steps into the middle.
Knowing brute force isn't going to help her, Santana performs elaborate dodges and weaves, while managing to get in a hit or two. Sweat dripping down her face, Santana can see the building frustration in her opponent's eyes. This renews her fading energy and she redoubles her efforts.
She's very successful because by the time the bell dings, Santana can practically feel the agitation radiating off him. She does her best to shake herself out of boxing mode and back into chess mode.
The moves are just as quick and pieces are disappearing rapidly off the board. However, her approach seems to be doing the trick. While One has no problems responding to her moves, Santana can tell he's not completely sure what to think of her tactics. She uses this continued unbalance to her advantage and survives until the next round.
Santana finally feels like she has a handle on being able to switch back and forth between boxing and chess mode. And so, in this third round of boxing, she's confident and she ducks a punch and counters with a shot to his side. He's slowing down; she can see that, while her pure enjoyment of the situation is feeding her energy level.
The third round of chess is most likely to be the last, Santana knows. Her only hope is to stretch it out as long as possible and wear One out in the next round of boxing. Then maybe his fatigue will affect his focus.
Except their moves on the board seem to be rather circular. Neither of them are making progress. Seeing this, the ref calls for a time out; which Santana didn't realize was allowed.
The ref confers with the judges. Santana and her opponent look everywhere, but at each other. After ages, though it's probably only a few minutes, the ref returns and raises his arms for silence.
"The chess game has reached a stalemate," he announces. "After conferring with the judges, they tell me that the boxing scores are also a tie. Therefore, the winner is the player with the black pieces. Which means, number eight, Santana Lopez is the winner."
This announcement is met with five seconds of silence and then the reactions are loud and forceful. Boxer One stands and whips his noise defenders at the ground. He stalks over to the judges table and begins violently arguing with them. Santana stands, a bit in shock and removes her own defenders, setting them carefully on the board.
Only to be practically knocked over by Puck sweeping her up in his arms and lifting her off the ground in a hug.
"I told you," he yells. "I fucking told you."
"Yeah, yeah, shut up, Puckerman," she yells back, hugging him back.
…
Once all the chaos has calmed, Santana is able to shower and change into a different set of clothes that Puck brought along in the backpack.
"I'm impressed," Santana tells him. "You seem to have thought of everything."
"Yeah, blame your girlfriend," Puck replies.
On their way out, Santana is handed a large envelope of cash and another smaller envelope. She opens the cash filled one and quickly counts it; can't be too careful.
"That has a ticket for free entry for another match. There's also a card with the info on how to find out where the matches are being held."
"Congratulations," a judge says, coming up behind them. "It was impressive. None of us expected you to win."
"Thank, I guess."
"We hope to see you again."
Once they're in the truck and driving away, Santana counts out the two fifty that Puck put down for her.
Seeing this out of the corner of his eye, Puck says, "I was pretty sure I'd get that back. You really are a fucking badass bitch."
"About time you realized that," Santana replies, counting out another two fifty.
"What are you doing?"
"Never let it be said, that I don't acknowledge things," she replies, sticking the two wads of cash into Puck's pocket. "That's for the encouragement and bringing me.
"Yeah?"
"Hell yeah. I know you don't play chess. But there are plenty of others."
"Maybe," Puck acknowledges. "But I doubt any of them could have pulled that off."
"I won by default," Santana says. "Sort of."
"Whatever. You put the chess into a stalemate and then somehow managed to box well enough to earn a tie."
"Yeah, but my winning was only because I had the black pieces. That was just a fluke."
"No way," Puck says. "I know the rules. I made sure you had the black ones."
"Jesus, maybe Rach really is rubbing off on you."
…
She crashes at Puck's because it will help put off having to explain her appearance to people.
"But you're coming with me to Rach's," Santana tells Puck. "You can help explain this." She then puts the bag of peas back against her jaw.
'Yeah. Sure. Whatever. But all you need to do is wave that thousand bucks around."
"Maybe," Santana allows. "Not that she cares about stuff like that."
…
When Puck and Santana finally show up at the Berry residence Saturday morning, Rachel's been up for hours. She and Brittany are studying and waiting for Santana to show up. Well, Rachel's studying, she thinks Brittany is probably doodling since her textbooks are nowhere in sight.
There's a knock on the bedroom door and they hear Puck call out. "You guys decent?" He doesn't wait for an answer as he opens the door.
"Where's S?" Brittany asks.
"I hate to say this bro," Puck begins. "But you are no longer my hero. Your girlfriend has taken your place."
"Okay. Why?"
"Get your ass in here, Lopez."
Sheepishly, Santana enters. Rachel gasps upon seeing her. Santana has a black eye, a split lip, bruised jaw, and is moving slowly as if in pain.
"Hey."
Rachel is up in an instant and escorting Santana to a chair. "Are you okay?" she asks.
"I'll live," Santana tells her. "Just sore."
"Did you take her to your fight club?" Rachel asks Puck.
"Better," Puck replies. "She won an underground chess boxing match."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Explain."
"You play chess for four minutes, then box for three and then play more chess and it keeps going until there's a winner. Your girl here beat three opponents and won fifteen hundred dollars."
"Yay Santana!"
"Chess boxing?"
"Yeah, I used to be pretty good when I was a kid."
"Apparently." Rachel leans in close. "How sore is your lip?"
"Not that sore."
Rachel gently kisses Santana, mindful of her injuries. Santana isn't as worried as she pulls Rachel into her lap.
"Hot," Puck mutters.
"Oh yeah," Brittany adds.
"So, fifteen hundred dollars," Rachel says, once they've broken apart. "What are you going to do with it all?"
"I gave Puck five hundred, since he put down the entrance fee."
"That was nice of you, Noah."
"Totally worth it."
"We should have a party," Brittany suggests.
"Maybe. I haven't really decided yet."
"But you're going to do another one, right?" Puck asks.
Santana shrugs.
"If you do," Rachel says. "Can I come?"
"Really?"
"Seriously?" Santana asks.
Rachel nods.
"Yeah. Why not?"
…
"So what did you and Britt decide to do?" Santana asks after Puck and Brittany take off.
"You'll just have to wait and see, like always."
"Just once you could let me in on it."
"What fun would that be?"
They're lying side by side on Rachel's bed, a movie they're not paying attention to is playing. They're not really touching, because Rachel's worried about hurting Santana.
"How come you never told me you play chess?"
"Don't know. Doesn't matter."
"And that you apparently still play?" Rachel continues.
"I'll play once in a while online if I'm bored," Santana replies. "No big deal."
"I think it's amazing," Rachel says. "It explains a lot, actually."
"Explains what, exactly?"
"Why you're so good at strategizing and such," Rachel explains. "You learned those skills on a smaller level for the chessboard and then later, you applied to your life without even realizing it."
"Oh."
"It's totally hot," Rachel continues. "I agree with Noah. You're totally my hero now."
"Yeah?"
"The fact that you're able to pulverize your opponent in the boxing ring while also annihilating him on the chessboard has become the sexiest thing about you."
"Then you definitely owe me some rewards," Santana smirks. "One for ditching me last night and another for being such a fucking clever badass."
"You're not too sore?"
"You'll just have to be careful. Consider it a challenge," Santana says, smirking.
…
Sunday night, Brittany picks the lock as Rachel waits, foot taping nervously. They have a lot of materials and quite a lot of work to do.
Once it's all inside and where it needs to be, they get to work. They do everything silently, each knowing what they need to do. It's a nice easy partnership, that surprises Rachel, though she supposes she shouldn't be. The comradely she has with Britt would certainly translate into their working together. Technically it already has, it's just been less noticeable because there were others involved.
It takes hours, but once it's done, there's a real sense of accomplishment. It's certainly the most elaborate prank yet. But it's what Brittany wanted to do, so it's what they did.
Getting everything back out of the school is just as much effort as sneaking out. Thankfully, it's still dark out and so they're able to scurry under the cover of darkness.
Brittany crashes at Rachel's because it's easier.
"Thanks Rach," Brittany says as they're crawling into bed.
"For what?"
"The prank, silly," Brittany replies. "It was fun."
"I had a good time too."
"You think S will like it?"
"I'm sure she will."
"Good."
…
Monday morning word gets around very quickly that the Prankster struck again. People rush to pool to have a look.
They run into a wall of people just inside the door. Everyone is sort of in awe of the full scale pond in front of them. There are all sorts of animals indulging in the water. There are also others enjoying the pond like environment that surrounds the pool.
That's the other reason, everyone is standing so far back. When some of the first people to arrive, moved too close, a few mallards became quite loud as they moved into defense mode. They had no problem waddling forward towards their attackers, ready to beak anyone that got too close.
The bell rouses some people out of their staring and gossiping stupor. They give the whole surreal scene one more glance before leaving. Eventually, a teacher shoos the remaining students out as the janitorial staff enter. They have another long day in front of them.
…
Ten minutes later, the janitors look up when they hear an approaching argument.
"…can't be serious."
"Of course I'm serious, Ms. Berry. Student interference is not allowed."
"It wouldn't be interference, Mr. Figgins. It's assistance. Those are living, breathing creatures. I simply wish to ensure they're not harmed in their extraction."
"Are you suggesting our janitorial staff is incapable?"
"I'm doing no such thing," Rachel replies. "I simply consider myself more qualified to remove them. If you allow me to be in charge, I'd be able to safely remove them and save the janitors the hassle of doing so. Everyone wins."
The janitors wait with baited breath since they hadn't been looking forward to rounding up all the animals. The Berry chick is crazy, everyone knows that; but she gets shit done. They can appreciate that.
"Fine," Figgins says finally. "You have until the beginning of lunch to remove the animals. After that, they come back in and what happens then is what happens. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Rachel says. "Thank you."
Figgins nods faintly. "You all heard that. Everyone out until lunch."
The three janitors file out, quietly, nodding at the Berry chick as she softly thanks them when they walk by her.
…
True to her word, the pool is free of animals by the time the lunch bell rings. Figgins doesn't question it. He knows she had to have had help, but no one's made any complaints, so he'll leave it alone. It's just easier that way when dealing with Rachel Berry.
Maybe he'll asks for her assistance in catching the Prankster. He knows the ridiculousness of that request considering she was at one point a suspect. However, that had been based on heresy and not true evidence. He too easily gave into his desperation, but never again. He's sure the initial meeting will be met with disbelief, but he's also sure once he appeals to her compassionate nature, she'll come around.
And then, the McKinley Prankster will finally be caught.
Author: slacker_d
Pairing/Characters: Rachel/Santana, Puck, Brittany, Quinn, Figgins
Rating: light R
Summary: Brittany and Rachel pull a prank; while Santana gets talked into doing something crazy by Puck.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Word Count: ~5,000
Spoilers: Nope.
A/N: Follow Rapiers at Dawn.
2nd A/N: Unbeta’ed, so all mistakes are mine.
Flow Charts Are Never Wrong | Revelations and Confrontations | Cuffed | Physics and Golf | The Student Becomes the Master | Breaking Into School is Easy to Do | Keeping Up Appearances | Games People Play | Ink and Gossip | Like That Movie, Open Water | Berry verses Lopez | Playing With Fire | Organized Chaos Abound | Best Served Cold | Rapiers at Dawn
Quinn expects Berry's victory over her to be a point of contention in her life. The next day, when Quinn is at her locker and Rachel walks by, she braces herself for a cruel or disparaging comment. It never comes.
Quinn also expects Berry to attempt the power play she spoke of, trying to take away Quinn's popularity. Quinn can admit to herself, at least, that it is legitimacy possible. But the social hierarchy stays in place.
The only thing that seems to change is how the other glee kids react to her. And that seems to be their own personal biases and not influenced at all by anything Rachel does or says. It's not bad exactly, just a bit colder. As if she's a shiny new toy that's suddenly lost its appeal.
She hates it. But there's nothing she can do about it. The only thing that saves her from freaking out is that it's happening on such a small scale. Her popularity outside of the glee club, saves her sanity.
Quinn gives Berry a wide berth now, activity staying out of her way. The infection that is Rachel Berry has infiltrated her life and so Quinn does her best to just avoid it.
…
Rachel can actually feel the difference in her interaction with Quinn. Granted, the contact they have is miniscule, but the difference is enough to convince that competing was the right decision.
Despite participating, Rachel had thought the whole ordeal unnecessary. But it was obviously important to Quinn, so Rachel went along with it. Besides, she's now thrown a javelin and knows the basics of archery. As someone striving for new experiences, she's quite pleased about those aspects.
And Brittany seems ecstatic. The fact that she won so many things, has kept her giddy for days. This makes for a playful and exuberant Brittany who will randomly pick Rachel up in the halls and spin her in circles.
So it's no surprise to Rachel when Brittany suggests they should pull a prank together.
"How come we never have?" Brittany asks after Rachel agrees. "You did one with Puck and with Santana and you even did one for Coach."
Rachel shrugs. "I didn't realize you were interested."
"Duh," Brittany replies. "You're like my favorite Rachel shaped person, of course I want to pull a prank with you."
"Ah, thanks Britt," Rachel says. "You're my favorite Brittany shaped person."
…
"S is going to be mad at us," Brittany tells Rachel.
"Only because she'll be bored," Rachel replies.
"What if she thinks we're doing it?" Brittany asks.
Instead of the usual bro night, Rachel and Brittany decided to spend it together planning a prank. Brittany just seemed so eager and Rachel can't say no to her. Oddly, Noah seemed okay with the decision. He said, he'd have no trouble finding other entertainment. It all sounded rather ominous to Rachel, but she just shrugged it off, knowing she'd hear about it all too soon.
"We should totally make out," Brittany suggests.
"Maybe later."
"Okay."
"So did you have any prank ideas?"
"How about a slushie fountain? Oooh, or better yet, a slushie waterfall."
"Maybe," Rachel says. "Though, I'm not sure about the logistics.
"Or we chain all the teachers' cars to each other."
"That one would be difficult to pull off without being caught," Rachel points out.
"We paint a stripe on the floor that circles the whole school and then meets back up with itself. I bet tons of people would follow it to see where it goes."
Rachel giggles. "That's completely absurd."
"I know, right," Brittany smirks.
"Well it'd certainly be easy," Rachel says.
"What about something that throws fish?" Brittany asks. "I like fish."
"I'm not sure I'm up for something involving dead animals, Britt," Rachel replies. "Even if they're already dead and in plastic."
"Right. I guess that makes sense." They're both quiet for a moment, before Brittany begins bouncing. "Can we make a pond?"
"Um…"
"We fill the swimming pool with fish and turtles and ducks."
Rachel rolls the idea around in her head. "It sounds doable, I think."
"Yay," Brittany replies, tackling Rachel in a hug.
"Don't get too excited," Rachel says. "We still have to plan it."
…
Santana can't believe it's Friday night and she's been ditched by her best friend and girlfriend. If they were different sort of people, Santana would think they were having sex. But Rachel already explained Brittany wanted to pull a prank. She's fine with that, she just hates being left out.
Her cell phone rings and she doesn't bother checking the ID before answering.
"What?"
"Lopez," Puck says. "I see you're still a little pissy about being ditched."
"Whatever."
"All right," Puck continues. "I have three very important questions for you."
"What?"
"One. Do you still play chess?"
"Yeah."
"Two. You feel like kicking some ass?"
"Hell, yeah," Santana answers.
"Three. Are you ready to have your mind blown?"
"By you?" Santana scoffs. "Can't wait to see it.
"Awesome. I'll be over at nine. Wear workout clothes."
"I'm not going anywhere with you, Puckerman.
"Trust me, it's going to be epic."
"Trust you? Ha!"
"Keep it up and I'll call your boss up and she'll just make you come with me anyway," Puck tells her.
"She would not."
"I am very persuasive."
Santana mulls it over. It's not like she has anything going on. Not that she'd admit that to Puck. And she can acknowledge to herself at least, that she is intrigued.
"Fine," Santana says, finally. "But if it sucks, I get to kick you in the balls."
"Deal."
Santana raises an eyebrow as they hang up. Tonight might not actually suck. If Puckerman's willing to wager getting kicked in the nuts, it might actually be interesting.
…
Santana's out the door the minute Puckerman honks his truck horn. Her mother, being so surprised that Santana is home, has been attempting to do some mother/daughter bonding. She wants nothing to do with that. Santana never thought she'd be relieved that Puck invited her out.
"So where the fuck are we going, Pucky?" Santana asks as the truck reverses out of the driveway.
"It's a surprise."
"Your surprises usually involve alcohol and a bad decision," Santana replies. "So no thanks."
"Usually you'd be right," Puck says. "But not tonight."
"I’m not in the mood for your little games."
"Just shut up and enjoy the ride, Lopez," Puck snaps. "We've got a bit of a drive in front of us."
"Should knee you in the balls anyway," Santana grumbles, leaning back.
…
Almost an hour later, Puck pulls up to an abandoned warehouse. There are a number of cars parked around it that Santana can make out in the dim light.
"You brought me to your fight club?" Santana asks. "How is that a surprise?"
"Not exactly," Puck says, climbing out of the truck, a backpack over one shoulder.
Santana is about to ask what the hell he needs that for, when a thought occurs to her. "Please tell me it's not dog fighting."
"Are you kidding? Rach would kick my ass if I ever went to something like that."
They're standing in front of the door and Puck knocks once, pauses, then twice, then pauses and then knocks again.
"Secret knocks, really?" Santana mutters.
The door slowly swings open with a creak.
Santana follows Puck through a maze of darkness and corners until they come to a card table. Behind it sits a middle-aged guy with glasses. On the table is a clipboard, a stack of paper and a cash box.
"Name?" the guy intones.
"Santana Lopez," Puck answers.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Santana whispers.
"Trust me."
"There's a $250 entry fee."
Puck nods and hands over a roll of cash. Santana's eyes boggle.
"Through those doors," the guy says, pointing. "They'll give you a number when you're up."
Puck nods and drags Santana away, towards the door.
They're in a gym. Santana looks around and sees a massive board with brackets on it. Above it reads, Chess Boxing Tournament.
"What. The. Fuck."
"It's exactly what it says," Puck explains. "You play a four minute round of chess, then box for three minutes and then you keep doing that until someone wins, either by knockout or checkmate."
"You're serious?"
"Hell yeah!"
"And you just signed me up for it?"
"Obviously."
"Without asking?!"
"Hey, I'd do it," Puck says. "But I don't know how to play chess. If I remember correctly, you're pretty decent at it. And we both know you can fight."
"Yeah, but--"
"And think how awesome it'd be if you won," Puck continues. "Plus, I just laid down two fifty."
Santana looks around. It's all men; in the audience and as fighters. She looks at the ones wearing numbers. She could probably take them. What she lacks in size, she more than makes up for with speed, agility and tenaciousness.
"Fine," Santana agrees. "But you have to help explain to Rach if I look like hell tomorrow."
"Deal."
The pair walks over to the registration table. They hand her a number, 8, ask her height and weight and then place her in the bracket.
According to the bracket on the board, there are three rounds in the single elimination tournament. She's the last one to sign up. She's pitted against number Two and they're the second fight. Looking, she tries to spot her opponent.
She finally sees him in the corner, throwing punches to warm up. He reminds her a little of Finn, though skinnier. She can totally take him.
She and Puck find a little corner where she can warm up and stretch. Puck also takes the time to quietly further explain things. By the time the first fight is about to start, Santana feels confident in her chances.
…
When the three round fight between Six and One is over, Santana is actually glad Puck signed her up, though she'd never admit it. Watching the match had been such an odd contrast of the cerebral and the brutal; she found it oddly appealing.
Bouncing around a bit to warm up, Santana nods at her opponent, who nods back. They both sit at the chess board and shake hands over it.
"Begin."
With the noise defenders on and her intense need to win, everything else falls away and she's able to focus only on the chess. She wouldn't call herself a chess player, but she spent enough time in her prepubescent years playing that she feels like she'll make a good showing. The speed chess also appeals to her, it goes well with the adrenaline that's already coursing through her.
And then suddenly she's up, putting on boxing gloves that Puck apparently brought with him while they remove the chess board.
The bell dings and she's fighting; dodging, feigning and managing a lot of hits. Her reflexes are what make her confident that she's going to win. When the round's over, she knows if it comes down to it, she definite won that round, point wise.
Attempting to play chess while sweaty and bloody is a surreal experience. Once again, the noise defenders help and though it takes a bit longer, she's able to zone everything else out and focus.
In fact, it's even more difficult to switch gears when the round is over, because it took so much effort to find her focus before. But not wanting to lose, she shakes it off best she can and tries to direct her adrenaline to fighting instead of thinking.
Another round of chess and another round of boxing. Each time the contrast of the intellectual versus the physical is more jarring. The biggest challenge is keeping it together in the first minute of each differing round.
And then she lands a perfect right hook to the jaw that knocks him to the floor. She watches, heart pounding in her ears, panting as the ref counts to ten. Her opponent tries to get up, but barely manages to sit upright.
A moment later, the match is over and Santana is declared victor.
…
The next two matches take about the same amount of time and Santana is given a significant break before the standings are posted. She's feeling pretty good about her chances. All she has to do is to win the next fight and she'll be guaranteed a cash prize. She plans on winning the whole thing, but it's nice to know if she doesn't, there's still a good reason to go through all this.
Besides, being able to say that she's participated in a chess boxing match.
Five and Three lose and so Santana is pitted against number Four, a bulky looking man who is rather intimidating.
Still, Santana's determined to win and she's not going to be daunted by this blow hard. Just watching and overhearing things, she can already tell she'd want to punch him outside of the boxing ring. This makes her sure she's going to win. That and he's had far less time to rest than she has.
…
With renewed focus and confidence, Santana sits down to the first round of chess. It's even faster and more furious than her first match. This guy obviously means business. Santana digs deep in her brain to come up with ideas to counter his moves.
They're much further along when the noise defenders are pulled off this time. Each goes to their corners and puts on their boxing gloves. The bell dings and quickly, they're dodging and weaving.
Santana knows the odds of her winning the boxing are significantly less this match because of her opponent's size in relation to hers, so she plans to do the best she can and try to win on the chessboard.
She manages to get in a few good punches, but she's definitely feeling fatigued when they sit down to the second round of chess. Also, the dripping blood is very distracting.
Santana feels like she's three or four moves away from checkmate when the round ends. She wonders if her opponent is just fucking with her, letting her think that or if it's actually true. She can only continue her strategy and hope for the best.
It is obvious that her energy level is low, but she does her best. She spends most of the round, evading and hates herself a bit for it. But she needs to be able to survive until the next round of chess, so it's all she can do. Her actions are obviously making number Four cocky and Santana can easily see that. She hopes that will make him sloppy at the chessboard.
Wiping the sweat out of her eyes, Santana begins, what she hopes, are winning moves towards checkmate. Staring across the chessboard, she can still feel the hubris coming off him in waves and fights to keep focus.
And then her opponent has ripped off his noise defenders and dropped them on the ground in disgust. Santana's arm is held up in victory. She's won.
…
The spike of adrenaline has waned, but she's still riding the high of making it to the final round. Not only will she be making some money, but she has real proof of her badassery; though it's mostly in the form a bruised jaw and a black eye.
She and Puck watch the other match closely. It's close as far as Santana can tell, though it is obvious that Seven is struggling against One's efforts. Puck mutters that her final bout is going to be difficult and she can only nod in agreement. She sips more water, trying to calm her pounding heart.
The only, only advantage she has is that she'll once again have a longer resting period. Otherwise, she is outmatched in weight, height and boxing ability, as well as probably facing a seasoned chess player. Boxer One creamed his opponent in the first round by achieving checkmate only a minute into their second round of chess. And the only reason it took so long was that boxer Six took the maximum amount of time given to move his white pieces.
Once One has crushed Seven, Santana does her best to ignore her surroundings and not get psyched out. She's got a strategy for the boxing and an unorthodox plan for the chess. She hopes it's enough.
…
Just before she climbs into the ring, Puck grabs her by the shoulders and moves in close, so she can hear him over the din.
"You can do this, Lopez," he says. "You're Santana fucking Lopez, the bitchiest, badass chick I know that never loses because she refuses to quit. Think about what you could do with that money. He's underestimating you because of your size, but especially because you're a girl. Prove him wrong." And then smacks her on the shoulders and pushes her into the ring.
They shake hands over the chessboard and sit. Eyes locked, they both put on the noise defenders and One moves a white rook forward.
And then it's a series of quick, furious movement as Santana plays on instinct, but trying to keep her plan in mind. The four minutes pass in the blink of an eye and Santana is putting boxing gloves on. She takes a sip of water and a fist bump from Puck and steps into the middle.
Knowing brute force isn't going to help her, Santana performs elaborate dodges and weaves, while managing to get in a hit or two. Sweat dripping down her face, Santana can see the building frustration in her opponent's eyes. This renews her fading energy and she redoubles her efforts.
She's very successful because by the time the bell dings, Santana can practically feel the agitation radiating off him. She does her best to shake herself out of boxing mode and back into chess mode.
The moves are just as quick and pieces are disappearing rapidly off the board. However, her approach seems to be doing the trick. While One has no problems responding to her moves, Santana can tell he's not completely sure what to think of her tactics. She uses this continued unbalance to her advantage and survives until the next round.
Santana finally feels like she has a handle on being able to switch back and forth between boxing and chess mode. And so, in this third round of boxing, she's confident and she ducks a punch and counters with a shot to his side. He's slowing down; she can see that, while her pure enjoyment of the situation is feeding her energy level.
The third round of chess is most likely to be the last, Santana knows. Her only hope is to stretch it out as long as possible and wear One out in the next round of boxing. Then maybe his fatigue will affect his focus.
Except their moves on the board seem to be rather circular. Neither of them are making progress. Seeing this, the ref calls for a time out; which Santana didn't realize was allowed.
The ref confers with the judges. Santana and her opponent look everywhere, but at each other. After ages, though it's probably only a few minutes, the ref returns and raises his arms for silence.
"The chess game has reached a stalemate," he announces. "After conferring with the judges, they tell me that the boxing scores are also a tie. Therefore, the winner is the player with the black pieces. Which means, number eight, Santana Lopez is the winner."
This announcement is met with five seconds of silence and then the reactions are loud and forceful. Boxer One stands and whips his noise defenders at the ground. He stalks over to the judges table and begins violently arguing with them. Santana stands, a bit in shock and removes her own defenders, setting them carefully on the board.
Only to be practically knocked over by Puck sweeping her up in his arms and lifting her off the ground in a hug.
"I told you," he yells. "I fucking told you."
"Yeah, yeah, shut up, Puckerman," she yells back, hugging him back.
…
Once all the chaos has calmed, Santana is able to shower and change into a different set of clothes that Puck brought along in the backpack.
"I'm impressed," Santana tells him. "You seem to have thought of everything."
"Yeah, blame your girlfriend," Puck replies.
On their way out, Santana is handed a large envelope of cash and another smaller envelope. She opens the cash filled one and quickly counts it; can't be too careful.
"That has a ticket for free entry for another match. There's also a card with the info on how to find out where the matches are being held."
"Congratulations," a judge says, coming up behind them. "It was impressive. None of us expected you to win."
"Thank, I guess."
"We hope to see you again."
Once they're in the truck and driving away, Santana counts out the two fifty that Puck put down for her.
Seeing this out of the corner of his eye, Puck says, "I was pretty sure I'd get that back. You really are a fucking badass bitch."
"About time you realized that," Santana replies, counting out another two fifty.
"What are you doing?"
"Never let it be said, that I don't acknowledge things," she replies, sticking the two wads of cash into Puck's pocket. "That's for the encouragement and bringing me.
"Yeah?"
"Hell yeah. I know you don't play chess. But there are plenty of others."
"Maybe," Puck acknowledges. "But I doubt any of them could have pulled that off."
"I won by default," Santana says. "Sort of."
"Whatever. You put the chess into a stalemate and then somehow managed to box well enough to earn a tie."
"Yeah, but my winning was only because I had the black pieces. That was just a fluke."
"No way," Puck says. "I know the rules. I made sure you had the black ones."
"Jesus, maybe Rach really is rubbing off on you."
…
She crashes at Puck's because it will help put off having to explain her appearance to people.
"But you're coming with me to Rach's," Santana tells Puck. "You can help explain this." She then puts the bag of peas back against her jaw.
'Yeah. Sure. Whatever. But all you need to do is wave that thousand bucks around."
"Maybe," Santana allows. "Not that she cares about stuff like that."
…
When Puck and Santana finally show up at the Berry residence Saturday morning, Rachel's been up for hours. She and Brittany are studying and waiting for Santana to show up. Well, Rachel's studying, she thinks Brittany is probably doodling since her textbooks are nowhere in sight.
There's a knock on the bedroom door and they hear Puck call out. "You guys decent?" He doesn't wait for an answer as he opens the door.
"Where's S?" Brittany asks.
"I hate to say this bro," Puck begins. "But you are no longer my hero. Your girlfriend has taken your place."
"Okay. Why?"
"Get your ass in here, Lopez."
Sheepishly, Santana enters. Rachel gasps upon seeing her. Santana has a black eye, a split lip, bruised jaw, and is moving slowly as if in pain.
"Hey."
Rachel is up in an instant and escorting Santana to a chair. "Are you okay?" she asks.
"I'll live," Santana tells her. "Just sore."
"Did you take her to your fight club?" Rachel asks Puck.
"Better," Puck replies. "She won an underground chess boxing match."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"Explain."
"You play chess for four minutes, then box for three and then play more chess and it keeps going until there's a winner. Your girl here beat three opponents and won fifteen hundred dollars."
"Yay Santana!"
"Chess boxing?"
"Yeah, I used to be pretty good when I was a kid."
"Apparently." Rachel leans in close. "How sore is your lip?"
"Not that sore."
Rachel gently kisses Santana, mindful of her injuries. Santana isn't as worried as she pulls Rachel into her lap.
"Hot," Puck mutters.
"Oh yeah," Brittany adds.
"So, fifteen hundred dollars," Rachel says, once they've broken apart. "What are you going to do with it all?"
"I gave Puck five hundred, since he put down the entrance fee."
"That was nice of you, Noah."
"Totally worth it."
"We should have a party," Brittany suggests.
"Maybe. I haven't really decided yet."
"But you're going to do another one, right?" Puck asks.
Santana shrugs.
"If you do," Rachel says. "Can I come?"
"Really?"
"Seriously?" Santana asks.
Rachel nods.
"Yeah. Why not?"
…
"So what did you and Britt decide to do?" Santana asks after Puck and Brittany take off.
"You'll just have to wait and see, like always."
"Just once you could let me in on it."
"What fun would that be?"
They're lying side by side on Rachel's bed, a movie they're not paying attention to is playing. They're not really touching, because Rachel's worried about hurting Santana.
"How come you never told me you play chess?"
"Don't know. Doesn't matter."
"And that you apparently still play?" Rachel continues.
"I'll play once in a while online if I'm bored," Santana replies. "No big deal."
"I think it's amazing," Rachel says. "It explains a lot, actually."
"Explains what, exactly?"
"Why you're so good at strategizing and such," Rachel explains. "You learned those skills on a smaller level for the chessboard and then later, you applied to your life without even realizing it."
"Oh."
"It's totally hot," Rachel continues. "I agree with Noah. You're totally my hero now."
"Yeah?"
"The fact that you're able to pulverize your opponent in the boxing ring while also annihilating him on the chessboard has become the sexiest thing about you."
"Then you definitely owe me some rewards," Santana smirks. "One for ditching me last night and another for being such a fucking clever badass."
"You're not too sore?"
"You'll just have to be careful. Consider it a challenge," Santana says, smirking.
…
Sunday night, Brittany picks the lock as Rachel waits, foot taping nervously. They have a lot of materials and quite a lot of work to do.
Once it's all inside and where it needs to be, they get to work. They do everything silently, each knowing what they need to do. It's a nice easy partnership, that surprises Rachel, though she supposes she shouldn't be. The comradely she has with Britt would certainly translate into their working together. Technically it already has, it's just been less noticeable because there were others involved.
It takes hours, but once it's done, there's a real sense of accomplishment. It's certainly the most elaborate prank yet. But it's what Brittany wanted to do, so it's what they did.
Getting everything back out of the school is just as much effort as sneaking out. Thankfully, it's still dark out and so they're able to scurry under the cover of darkness.
Brittany crashes at Rachel's because it's easier.
"Thanks Rach," Brittany says as they're crawling into bed.
"For what?"
"The prank, silly," Brittany replies. "It was fun."
"I had a good time too."
"You think S will like it?"
"I'm sure she will."
"Good."
…
Monday morning word gets around very quickly that the Prankster struck again. People rush to pool to have a look.
They run into a wall of people just inside the door. Everyone is sort of in awe of the full scale pond in front of them. There are all sorts of animals indulging in the water. There are also others enjoying the pond like environment that surrounds the pool.
That's the other reason, everyone is standing so far back. When some of the first people to arrive, moved too close, a few mallards became quite loud as they moved into defense mode. They had no problem waddling forward towards their attackers, ready to beak anyone that got too close.
The bell rouses some people out of their staring and gossiping stupor. They give the whole surreal scene one more glance before leaving. Eventually, a teacher shoos the remaining students out as the janitorial staff enter. They have another long day in front of them.
…
Ten minutes later, the janitors look up when they hear an approaching argument.
"…can't be serious."
"Of course I'm serious, Ms. Berry. Student interference is not allowed."
"It wouldn't be interference, Mr. Figgins. It's assistance. Those are living, breathing creatures. I simply wish to ensure they're not harmed in their extraction."
"Are you suggesting our janitorial staff is incapable?"
"I'm doing no such thing," Rachel replies. "I simply consider myself more qualified to remove them. If you allow me to be in charge, I'd be able to safely remove them and save the janitors the hassle of doing so. Everyone wins."
The janitors wait with baited breath since they hadn't been looking forward to rounding up all the animals. The Berry chick is crazy, everyone knows that; but she gets shit done. They can appreciate that.
"Fine," Figgins says finally. "You have until the beginning of lunch to remove the animals. After that, they come back in and what happens then is what happens. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," Rachel says. "Thank you."
Figgins nods faintly. "You all heard that. Everyone out until lunch."
The three janitors file out, quietly, nodding at the Berry chick as she softly thanks them when they walk by her.
…
True to her word, the pool is free of animals by the time the lunch bell rings. Figgins doesn't question it. He knows she had to have had help, but no one's made any complaints, so he'll leave it alone. It's just easier that way when dealing with Rachel Berry.
Maybe he'll asks for her assistance in catching the Prankster. He knows the ridiculousness of that request considering she was at one point a suspect. However, that had been based on heresy and not true evidence. He too easily gave into his desperation, but never again. He's sure the initial meeting will be met with disbelief, but he's also sure once he appeals to her compassionate nature, she'll come around.
And then, the McKinley Prankster will finally be caught.