fic; ride with me.
Title: Ride With Me
Author: blueowls
Rating: G (except for cursing)
Summary: “At least we didn’t die,” Santana said optimistically with a shrug, offering a hand.
Spoilers: None.
Note: This is for phenomenal0cat , to cheer away the Glenn Beck induced hypertension blues and also because of this fic. It's kind of silly, but I was on a time limit and it's just something I whipped up. Don't take it too seriously.
“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” Santana said darkly, shoving her books in her locker. Brittany smirked as Santana breathed out heavily, ruffling through her things and obviously stalling for time, and she rolled forward, the wheelchair bumping Santana’s calf.
“Scared?” Brittany teased, unable to keep a smile from spreading across her face. Santana turned on her, eyes narrowed as she slammed her locker shut contemptuously, the clang reverberating through the hall.
“If you kill me,” she threatened, looking up and down the empty hallway before sitting gingerly across Brittany’s lap, “I’m going to fucking haunt you.”
“Sure you will,” Brittany said, still grinning. Santana made a face at her, sliding closer and looping her arms loosely around Brittany’s neck as she settled heavily against her, crossing her legs primly. Brittany pushed down on the wheels and they rolled forward slowly, unused to the weight of two people. Santana’s arms around her tightened as soon as they began to move, and Brittany smirked as she tilted her head forward, lips brushing against Santana’s ear.
“See? Not so bad.”
“Don’t gloat,” Santana said peevishly, turned her head away fast enough to whack Brittany in the face with her ponytail, but she relaxed as they wandered through the halls. Or at least, they appeared to be wandering.
Brittany turned a corner and they found themselves at the end of a long, straight, and empty hallway. They began to roll casually down it, passing empty classrooms and rows of lockers until Brittany bit her lip to stifle a smile, pushing down hard on the wheels and speeding up suddenly. Santana felt it, her grip on her once again tightening and a hint of something like worry creeping into her voice.
“Britt, slow down,” Santana breathed, pressing against her.
“Hang on, Santana,” Brittany said seriously, unable to hide her grin as they began to go faster.
“I’m serious, Brittany.”
“Here we go.”
“Brittany, stop,” Santana pleaded, voice loud in her ear. Wincing, Brittany felt her arms start to burn as they whipped down the hall, and she stopped trying to get them to go any faster for fear of catching her fingers in the spokes. Praying the wheelchair wouldn’t veer off course, she wrapped her arms around Santana and laughed, ignoring the string of shouted Spanish curses aimed at her and the fact that Santana was kind of squeezing the air out of her lungs.
It would have probably ended painlessly if JewFro hadn’t stepped into the hall. There were almost at the end and could have potentially rolled to a fairly gentle stop, but he stepped out of a classroom right as they sped by. There were two shrieks-one from JewFro and one from Santana-before they collided, followed by a metallic bang.
When Brittany opened her eyes and realized she was still alive, Santana was standing over her, arms crossed and looking smug as she sat up, groaning. There were other moans from beside her. Probably JewFro.
“At least we didn’t die,” Santana said optimistically with a shrug, offering a hand. Brittany took it, gasping as Santana hauled her up. JewFro was sitting up on the floor, glasses knocked askew and rubbing at his shin. There were pieces of black plastic all around them, which they could only assume was his smashed tape recorder, and a trashcan was lying on its side, dented and now empty of trash.
Brittany was about to pick her way through the mess to her wheelchair, but Santana tugged her back.
“Whatever. Just leave it there.”
“But what about Mr. Scheuster?”
“Seriously. Leave it. The janitor will throw it away or something.”
“But-”
“You lost it, okay?”
And so the dented trashcan and the black streaks on the tile that couldn’t be scraped off would forever be a testament to the day they almost killed JewFro and themselves and successfully lost Brittany’s wheelchair.
Author: blueowls
Rating: G (except for cursing)
Summary: “At least we didn’t die,” Santana said optimistically with a shrug, offering a hand.
Spoilers: None.
Note: This is for phenomenal0cat , to cheer away the Glenn Beck induced hypertension blues and also because of this fic. It's kind of silly, but I was on a time limit and it's just something I whipped up. Don't take it too seriously.
“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” Santana said darkly, shoving her books in her locker. Brittany smirked as Santana breathed out heavily, ruffling through her things and obviously stalling for time, and she rolled forward, the wheelchair bumping Santana’s calf.
“Scared?” Brittany teased, unable to keep a smile from spreading across her face. Santana turned on her, eyes narrowed as she slammed her locker shut contemptuously, the clang reverberating through the hall.
“If you kill me,” she threatened, looking up and down the empty hallway before sitting gingerly across Brittany’s lap, “I’m going to fucking haunt you.”
“Sure you will,” Brittany said, still grinning. Santana made a face at her, sliding closer and looping her arms loosely around Brittany’s neck as she settled heavily against her, crossing her legs primly. Brittany pushed down on the wheels and they rolled forward slowly, unused to the weight of two people. Santana’s arms around her tightened as soon as they began to move, and Brittany smirked as she tilted her head forward, lips brushing against Santana’s ear.
“See? Not so bad.”
“Don’t gloat,” Santana said peevishly, turned her head away fast enough to whack Brittany in the face with her ponytail, but she relaxed as they wandered through the halls. Or at least, they appeared to be wandering.
Brittany turned a corner and they found themselves at the end of a long, straight, and empty hallway. They began to roll casually down it, passing empty classrooms and rows of lockers until Brittany bit her lip to stifle a smile, pushing down hard on the wheels and speeding up suddenly. Santana felt it, her grip on her once again tightening and a hint of something like worry creeping into her voice.
“Britt, slow down,” Santana breathed, pressing against her.
“Hang on, Santana,” Brittany said seriously, unable to hide her grin as they began to go faster.
“I’m serious, Brittany.”
“Here we go.”
“Brittany, stop,” Santana pleaded, voice loud in her ear. Wincing, Brittany felt her arms start to burn as they whipped down the hall, and she stopped trying to get them to go any faster for fear of catching her fingers in the spokes. Praying the wheelchair wouldn’t veer off course, she wrapped her arms around Santana and laughed, ignoring the string of shouted Spanish curses aimed at her and the fact that Santana was kind of squeezing the air out of her lungs.
It would have probably ended painlessly if JewFro hadn’t stepped into the hall. There were almost at the end and could have potentially rolled to a fairly gentle stop, but he stepped out of a classroom right as they sped by. There were two shrieks-one from JewFro and one from Santana-before they collided, followed by a metallic bang.
When Brittany opened her eyes and realized she was still alive, Santana was standing over her, arms crossed and looking smug as she sat up, groaning. There were other moans from beside her. Probably JewFro.
“At least we didn’t die,” Santana said optimistically with a shrug, offering a hand. Brittany took it, gasping as Santana hauled her up. JewFro was sitting up on the floor, glasses knocked askew and rubbing at his shin. There were pieces of black plastic all around them, which they could only assume was his smashed tape recorder, and a trashcan was lying on its side, dented and now empty of trash.
Brittany was about to pick her way through the mess to her wheelchair, but Santana tugged her back.
“Whatever. Just leave it there.”
“But what about Mr. Scheuster?”
“Seriously. Leave it. The janitor will throw it away or something.”
“But-”
“You lost it, okay?”
And so the dented trashcan and the black streaks on the tile that couldn’t be scraped off would forever be a testament to the day they almost killed JewFro and themselves and successfully lost Brittany’s wheelchair.