Fic: The World is a Stage - Part 20/?
Title: The World is a Stage 20/?
Author: agentb81
Fandom: Glee
Pairing: Brittany/Santana, Brittany/OC
Rating: 15 - R
Word Count: 2100
Disclaimer: Glee is copyrighted and belongs to Ryan Murphy and Fox. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Use of other personalities is not a reflection of their real lives and is completely fictional.
Summary: Sort of AU/Future fic, the lives of Santana and Brittany in their early twenties.
Spoilers: References to Seasons 1 and 2.
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 / Part 19
Santana Lopez had been through her fair share of emotions throughout the years. In high school she had prided herself into not caring but fighting. Fighting to be the most popular girl in the school, fighting to be the greatest cheerleader, fighting for the solo and the spot light in Glee. She wore a proverbial suit of armour, protecting her against anything that would require feeling any sort of human emotion. And it worked. Except with one person. Brittany. She was the chink in Santana’s armour and the one person who had caused the tornado of emotions she had endured in her short life time. Anything else, the Latina would shrug it off and carry on, even her temperamental parents couldn’t cause the emotional turmoil Brittany could. So standing there listening to the tirade of a snooty studio mogul barely scratched the surface, the only thing Miss Lopez was concerned about at that moment was getting home to Brittany. The thought of the blonde laying in bed at her home spread a surge of warmth through the brunette’s body, a smile tugged at her lips, much to the dismay of her bosses. Santana briefly thought back to high school and the times she was stood in front of Coach Sylvester, she rolled her eyes, this was not much different, although there was a significant amount of money at stake.
“Are you even listening?” a large man in charcoal grey suit bellowed across the large board room table. Santana furrowed her brow, wondering how anyone could survive these temperatures in a suit like that. She sighed.
“Yes. But I don’t think you’ve been listening to me.” She said boldly.
“We’ve taken into account everything you have said Santana.” John, the executive producer chimed in, he was more sensibly dressed, the Latina thought, a stripy cotton shirt rolled up to the elbow and beige cargo pants.
“We’ve invested a lot of money into this movie Miss Lopez, not to mention your wages.” The suit said. Santana chewed on her lip for a moment, it was true, she thought, but she couldn’t help the situation she was in. “You should have stepped away when you had the chance, you didn’t have to get involved the dancer’s failing marriage.” Santana cocked her head to the side. ‘Oh he did not just say that’ she thought. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, only to be momentarily distracted by John’s hand in the air, a warning written all over his face. She sighed before speaking.
“Brittany.” She said, “The dancer is Brittany, we were best friends in high school, her husband was cheating on her with Berry of all people, I had to do something.” She explained. “Look,” Santana continued, “I saved your golden girl from the press for being a home wrecker, I’m helping out a friend. I can’t seem to do right for doing wrong.”
“Where is Brittany?”
“She’s at my place.” The actress shrugged.
“We know about your past Santana, what’s to say you won’t become known in the press for being a home wrecker. You do have the injuries caused by the husband.” The suit dared.
“Excuse me?” Santana blasted, her hands firmly on her hips. “You ask anyone on set, they knew about Berry and Brittany’s husband."
“You didn’t by the way.” The suit said. Santana hadn’t bothered to take in his name upon introduction, this whole thing was ridiculous.
“I didn’t what?” she asked, visibly frustrated.
“Save Rachel Berry from the press. There was a photo posted on a gossip website, we’ve seen the evidence. We also saw the photograph of you and Brittany in a compromising position on Twitter weeks before that.”
“I explained that picture in an interview, it was completely innocent.”
“You say that Santana but opinions are formed and audiences can be very fickle, if one person sees that picture and decides not to pay to see this movie, what’s to say others won’t follow?”
“You’re crazy you know that?” Santana said. “I’m nominated for an Emmy, I won a People’s Choice Award last year, if the audience hate me, they’ve got a funny way of showing it.” Santana could see John smirking from the corner of her eye, they had worked together on her TV show and had become good friends. “And I’ll get an Academy Award nomination for this movie.”
“You sound sure of yourself.”
“I wouldn’t have been casted if I couldn’t. I have put more effort into this film than any of the other cast, I’ve been in on my days off rehearsing my dances, running my lines, I come in early, I leave late. I have helped my friend through her failing marriage, I’ve been at her bedside after she almost died and I’ve been punched in the face and kicked in the stomach for my efforts and now I’m getting the third degree from you guys. Please show a little compassion, I haven’t asked for anything until now.” Santana stated, her voice never wavering, she managed to remain composed, her back straight, shoulders set back and her head held high. She was proud of her monologue, and while usually it came naturally to act emotion, this time she found it near impossible to feign her composure. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room before John spoke up.
“She’s right George, Santana’s been nothing but exemplary and it’s an unfortunate unforeseen circumstance that she’s found herself in.” The executive producer explained. Another veil of silence shrouded the room. Santana rubbed her fingers over her palms, she could feel the sweat building, yet her face remained focused and expressionless.
“Okay.” George said, Santana had silently acknowledged the name of the suit as John spoke to him moments earlier. “Going by the three strikes rule, you’ve got two left.”
“But it’s not even my . . .”
“Santana.” John warned.
“Sure, thank you.” Santana sighed, “I won’t let you down.” She thought about adding an ‘I promise’ to the end but she already wanted to gag. However, making it sound sincere was her job. She turned to leave, the lure of Brittany at home was too great to resist.
“Erm, Miss Lopez?” Santana turned to face George at the sound of his voice. “One more thing?”
“Yes?” she asked a little impatiently.
“Are you sleeping with the dancer?” he asked smugly. Santana was seething, she wanted nothing more than to launch herself across the table. Her teeth were gritted, her fists were balled, her nails digging painfully into her palms.
“George.” John said sternly, “That is none of our business, just like you screwing your secretary isn’t ours, or your wife’s apparently.” Santana relaxed almost immediately, she let out a satisfied sigh, she was now wearing her own smirk. She raised an eyebrow at the revelation and watched all colour and confidence drain from the man before her. “That’s right.” John continued, “You should really be careful of what you are upto and where on a movie set.” He leaned across his chair and whispered loudly, “It’s full of cameras.” George chewed his lip for a moment before speaking.
“Lopez, liaise with John, see how much time you can take.” He rose from his seat, cleared his throat, picked up the papers from the table and scurried from the room like a chastised dog with it’s tail between it’s legs.
“Thank you John.”
“You’ve done me a favour or two in the past.” He replied. “Mike said he can cope with the choreography, there’s no new stuff for the dancers and cast to learn. Brittany can take as long as she needs. I’ve re-jigged the schedule, you’ve got a couple days, but I’m gonna need you Thursday.”
“That’s fine, great even. Really thank you John.” Santana smiled warmly.
“No thank you for not killing Rachel, we kind of need her for the movie.” He joked. Santana rolled her eyes
“It’s always been tempting. Believe me.” She replied. “I err, I gotta go, Brittany’s sleeping, I don’t want her to wake and me not be there.”
“You are sleeping with her aren’t you?” John asked quietly. Santana smiled.
“No.” She replied, “I’m in love with her.” John’s eyes widened at the revelation, he had known about Santana’s ‘flirtations’ with men and women, but never had he known her to be serious about anyone in particular, he had always thought it was a Santana ‘no no’, pretty sure she had been on the receiving end of a bad break up and unbeknownst he had been right.
“Just be careful.” John said, Santana had always harboured a soft spot for the brunette, albeit a plutonic one. Santana smiled wistfully.
“This time it’s forever.”
++
She pounded on the door before her, determined to be heard. When she received no response she yelled through the steel.
“Berry! You in there?” Santana huffed, she had it on good authority that Rachel Berry was in fact in her trailer. “I’m coming in anyway.” She said, the handle in her hand turned slowly before she yanked open the door. Sticking her head through and glancing around, her eyes widened before slamming the door shut again. “Put some fucking clothes on Berry and get your ass out here now!” she yelled, a number of passing heads turned in her direction. It took a few moments before the door to the trailer swung open and presented a dishevelled Rachel Berry clad in a pair of shorts and a man’s shirt.
“Your shirt is see through and is really quite disturbing .” Santana pointed out, her nose scrunched up in disgust. Rachel, suddenly overly self conscious crossed her arms over her chest and cast her eyes downward.
“Well, don’t look then.” The Latina raised a challenging eyebrow.
“Oh pur-lease.” She drawled, “Like I would voluntarily look at your dwarf boobs.”
“I don’t care for your insults Santana.” Rachel said quietly.
“Oh poor Rachel Berry. I’m about to make your day hell.” Santana grinned with satisfaction.
“I thought we turned a corner Santana, I thought we were ok now.”
“Rachel?” Santana asked, emphasising the need for her attention. “You saw what he did me. You were there when he wouldn’t let me see Brittany, but here you are, fucking the bastard in your trailer.” The Latina spat with disgust.
“It’s none of your business Santana.” Rachel spat back.
“Oh Rachel. I’m going to do you a favour here, you won’t like it and I don’t actually care, but even you deserve better.” Santana began, “That bastard,” the brunette pointed to the trailer, just as Bryan appeared in the doorway, “he cheated on Brittany, which you know. He hit me, again, you know this. But what you don’t know . . .”
“Santana don’t.” Bryan threatened. Santana cocked her head to the side.
“Why Bryan? You going to hit me a third time? Kick me while I’m lying on the ground in agony again?” the Latina shrugged her shoulders, holding her hands, “What’s it going to be?” Rachel’s face turned bitter, she turned to look at the man towering over her standing on the steps to her trailer.
“You did that?”
“She provoked me!”
“Lying on the floor injured provoked you how?” she asked. Bryan was flapping his jaw like a fish, he had no answer.
“That’s not the best part Rachel.” Santana grinned.
“I don’t think I want to hear any more.” Rachel said quietly. “It’s over.” She said, looking directly into Bryan’s eyes. “It’s over.” She repeated with finality.
“Oh come on!” Santana cried with disappointment, “I want to tell you that he stayed with Brittany, tried to get her pregnant because he was on a cash promise from his parents, but I guess that’s a story for another time, right Bryan?” the Latina smirked. Bryan made his way down the steps in defeat and spared a glance at both women.
“Watch your back Lopez.” He said as he passed her. Santana rolled her eyes in response to the empty threat before Rachel turned and faced her colleague.
“You are a cruel bitch Santana Lopez.” Rachel said, to which Santana frowned.
“Huh?” she said with a confused shrug. As Rachel turned and walked away, Santana called after her, “I’m a fucking superhero Berry!”