Doing It Right (4/16)
Title: Doing It Right, Chapter 4: Touch Me
Author: creedogv
Rating: T
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can’t help but take it. She just didn’t realize she was going to be in it for the long run.
Spoilers: 2x05 “The Rocky Horror Glee Show”
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
So here’s what you missed on Glee. Santana gets Mercedes to partner up with Mike. Besides having a totally bitchin’ duo name “M&M”, Mike finds his voice and uses Nelly to win Tina back. They’d be totally smooth-sailing if it weren’t for the fact that… “We kissed.” Uh-oh, so Mike and Tina are on a break. Brittany and Santana, on the other hand, are doing just dandy. And that’s what you missed on… Glee!
The next week flew by for Santana. She lost hours at a time, and once two straight days. Luckily for her, Cheerios practice typically disappeared, even if the muscle aches didn’t. What seemed important were the fleeting moments with Brittany. She had let the first few pass her by, but began taking advantage of them, not wanting to let one second go to waste. She made sure to hold Brittany extra tight during cuddle time; she whispered sweet nothings in her ear in the middle of class; and she always caught her eye before Cheerios practice. She began to wonder how her body behaved during the blackouts. Did she run on autopilot? Was her autopilot based on her current mental state, or that from five month ago? Did anyone, Brittany especially, notice the difference between her lucid periods and her dark periods?
She was in glee now and Mr. Schue was talking about performing The Rocky Horror Show, or at least an edited adaption of it. She’d seen the movie twice: once with her older brother when she was far too young to understand it, and again when she was fourteen, noticing all the things that had gone over her head, and there were a lot of things. Much like before, Mr. Schue already had most of the parts cast in his mind: Finn and Rachel as the vanilla main couple, Artie as the guy in a wheelchair, Kurt as the tranny (again he balked and got the part of Riff-Raff after some pleading), Sam playing the cinematic version of himself (except with fluid sexuality), and no one playing Eddie, who Mr. Schue cut for reasons unknown.
“We’ll be doubling up on the Columbias and Magentas.” Mr. Schue would have left it there, but Santana decided to be more proactive. “Mr. Schue, which one will I be playing?”
The curly-haired teacher seemed surprised at her interest. “Well, I think you’d be a good fit for one of our Magentas. I wanted to reserve Columbia’s role for Tina and Brittany, who both have tap experience.”
“So can I request ‘Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me’?”
“Uh, sure; you realize that Magenta only has a small part in that song?”
“Yeah, but let’s be honest, Mr. Schue, Magenta and Columbia are totally gettin’ up in each other’s business during that song, and frankly, me and Britts are probably the only two comfortable with the lesbian hijinks.”
“Well, we’re actually going to tone that part down.”
“Santana’s free to it,” Quinn declared. “I don’t care how much you tone it down, I’m not going to be mock-fondling any girls. Does that mean I get ‘Time Warp’?” she asked Santana.
“As long as I get to make it up with ‘Science Fiction’. Let’s be honest, these Latina labias will look much better in close-up than your pale, pencil-thin puckers.”
“Fine, that’ll all work out great,” Schuester noted, “but we’re still down a Dr. Frank.”
Santana’s eyes tilted down to where Tina was sitting and noticed Mike was not sitting by her. She found him in her row, two seats away, looking withdrawn. The courage he gained the week before seemed to have diminished due to his break from Tina. Santana scooted over a chair, finding herself having to extract her pinky from Brittany’s, which she didn’t even remember having connected. Not that that’s a bad thing.
“Hey, Mike,” Santana whispered, “While you’re playing wallflower, Mr. Schue is completely forgetting your Asian ass. You gotta claim a part, honey. Why not try out for Dr. Frank? You’ll impress Tina.”
“Give me a break, Santana,” Mike hissed, “I don’t need you teasing me, saying I’m bi or feminine or whatever.”
“Just trying to help,” she groaned drolly, sliding back into place to where Brittany was seated. She twirled her finger in Brittany’s ponytail and allowed the girl to situate her long legs into her lap.
* * *
Whatever Happened To Saturday Night (Hot Patootie) - Glee Cast feat. John Stamos
Hot Dr. Carl showed up at glee the next day, right on schedule. Will passive-aggressively made him audition for the part he couldn’t pay someone to take. Santana didn’t really like that attitude on her teacher. During Dr. Carl’s rousing edition of “Hot Patootie”, Santana was fully ready to jump up during the swing portion and partner with her blonde lover along with the other couples, except Brittany and Mike started dancing. Tina and Mike are still in limbo, she realized.
Santana got constant updates about their relationship from Brittany, who believed her to be genuinely interested in the repair of their relationship. Perhaps she was; the reasons why she’d conspired to get them back together were nebulous. Was it to get Mike to stop flirting with Brittany? Santana couldn’t pin down her motives precisely. And she couldn’t exactly deny that she had a new outlook on love. Not a week ago (in her mind), she thought love to be a folly, something for the weak-minded. Not anymore.
Santana was never one to take things lying down, so she jumped up, grabbed Tina and Mercedes, and started a dance circle with the three of them. When the couples split up to do some solo dancing, Santana claimed her spot in front of Brittany. The chorus finally popped up again; Brittany grabbed her and Santana got her swing dance. So elated, she got a little caught up with herself at the end. During the final notes, she and Brittany were still in dance position, both sets of hands interlocked, and she leaned in and laid a kiss on Brittany’s cheek before pulling apart. Brittany blushed a little pink but Santana just dropped their hands and linked her pinky to Brittany’s and watched as hot Dr. Carl finished up. Ms. Pillsbury was bouncing and clapping; Mr. Schue was trying not to look too impressed, again filling Santana with a vague sense of disapproval.
When she took a step to the side, she felt Brittany’s arm hold rigid. Brittany was locking eyes with Mercedes and Tina, who were staring in their direction and whispering. Santana caught their eyes and put on her mildest scowl. They looked suitably embarrassed, smiled, and in return Santana smiled at them, but it was a very small smile. She pulled Brittany back to their seats as Mr. Schue tried to use his director powers to keep Carl out of the play. In the end, Sue restored Eddie’s role for Dr. Carl and Mercedes claimed the Frank-N-Furter role. Mr. Schue frowned for rest of the rehearsal.
Santana looked down and noticed that Tina and Mike had accidentally taken seats next to each other and were too embarrassed to move. They kept glancing at each other, each trying not to be caught by the other. It was only a matter of time before they settled their differences, Santana predicted. And Brittany seemed to have forgotten the strange looks they’d gotten and was happily scribbling “SANTANA” on the inside of her forearm with a gel pen. All in all, she thought, things are good. I should probably apply to be a Chrono Knight... or stop playing so much Final Fantasy with my brothers. All good, except Mr. Schue’s pissy mood.
* * *
Quinn had told Santana and Brittany after the morning Cheerios practice that she and Tina were relinquishing “Sweet Transvestite” to them. She repeated, nearly word for word, Santana’s spiel about the pair being more comfortable with the lesbian theatrics. “It’ll be easier renewing my friendship with her if I don’t have to put my hands all over her body.”
The rehearsal of the number went down without a hitch. Except for hot Dr. Carl bursting in through the wall earlier than planned. Ms. Pillsbury clapped. Mr. Schue bitched. And Santana rolled her eyes for the last time at this problem.
Admitting defeat, she acknowledged that her change in perspective about love was now compelling her to take on yet another project: the game of tug-of-war that was being fought between Mr. Schue and hot Dr. Carl, with Miss Pillsbury being the rope. Santana had the benefit of knowing how it was going to turn out: Ms. P would marry Dr. Carl, becoming Mrs. P-H; Mr. Schue would later get his head out of his ass and start tapping Ms. Holiday; and in between there would be a lot of depressing fawning and bad choices by Mr. Schue because of the guidance counselor.
One of those bad choices was the play, obviously, but Santana wasn’t about to ruin the opportunity to relive good memories with Brittany.
But one of those bad choices Santana figured she could do something about.
* * *
Santana was a schemer, not a therapist. She didn’t just talk problems away; she got things done so that problems were crushed beneath her proverbial foot. It’s how things should be done, dammit. This is how she found herself loitering in the boy’s locker room after lunch, knowing her Spanish teacher was changing clothes after his daily routine of running laps around the track. Santana walked around the lockers, finding Will just starting to get his shirt on. Well, hello, William, somebody’s been hiding something under those vests.
“Santana?” Will cried, holding his shirt closed, “What are you doing in the boys’ locker room?”
“Is this like a trick question?”
“Santana, this is highly inappropriate. You’re a minor and I am one of your teachers!”
“Hey, I waited for you to put your pants on! So, in other news,” Santana announced, “I heard you stole the role of the Monster from Sam.”
“I-I didn’t really think it was appropriate for Sam to be portraying such a sexual character.” The excuse sounded rehearsed.
“Yeah,” Santana remarked, uninterested, “so that means during ‘Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me’, the song as you’ll remember I’m really excited to participate in, while Brittany and I are pretending to pretend to get it on, you and Rachel will be pretending to actually get it on. Do I have that right?”
“I, uh…” Will remarked.
Santana lowered her eyebrows.
The intercom saved Will from further embarrassment. “Will Schuester, please come to the principal’s office. It is concerning one of your glee kids.”
Will’s eyes shot open, looking at Santana, who remained calm. “I’m certain that’s not about me.” She grinned, “Well, I’m sure that’s not about me in this particular instance.”
Of course, it turned out to be about Finn roaming the halls in his boxers, scaring students with his doughy body. It wasn’t like Santana needed to eavesdrop outside the office, and it wasn’t like she even needed to be sitting right outside the office, since Principal Figgins’ voice could be heard from all the nearby classrooms, but the glass walls provided a cool surface for Santana to lean against while she filed her nails and listened in. No one would miss her in Art class.
Even Santana was surprised how well her plan worked. In the middle of defending the play, Mr. Schue arrived at the brilliant lie that his playing Rocky was just a brainstorm. “In reality,” he claimed, he’d already commissioned Emma to provide less revealing costumes for Finn, Rachel, and Sam: boxers and an undershirt for Hudson, a slip for Berry, and board shorts and a muscle tee for Evans.
It was a trade-off. Mr. Schue was no longer able to use his role as Rocky to leverage Mrs. Pillsbury into practicing “Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me” in an empty classroom, so Santana expected that hot Dr. Carl wouldn’t be showing up to scream accusations at the glee director. But that also meant that she and Brittany wouldn’t get the chance to creep on the teachers after Cheerios practice, watching them tearing each other’s clothes off from the outside window, which would therefore not lead to them playfully dancing down the hallways followed by some awesome fooling around in Mrs. Castle’s classroom.
But it did mean they’d get to make it up during rehearsals of the song on stage.
* * *
She had to give Rachel credit; she was really dedicated to her craft. In front of her boyfriend-who looked slightly less doughy in his undershirt since the last time Santana’s seen his chest-she passionately sung about losing her virginity to the deliciously muscled Sam-Fabray was a lucky bitch-all while letting him silently put his hands in all her naughty places while grinding up against him.
Santana could see Finn stewing in his seat. Sam had probably just gotten further than he had with Rachel. Granted, she wasn’t paying that much attention, because she was taking advantage of Schuester’s distracted state to overdo her acting with Brittany: rubbing her stockinged legs, petting her arms, fondling the bow on her blouse, positioning herself between Brittany’s legs, actually kissing her neck instead of just miming it, and she did it all on a tiny couch that forced them to remain very close. So, Fabray may be a lucky bitch, but she was a much luckier one.
The reason for Mr. Schue’s distraction was of course the guidance counselor. Ms. Pillsbury was seated in the audience, singing along with Rachel about wanting to be dirty and naughty, nearly as engrossed as the tiny actress, which was saying something, especially for a woman whose entire existence revolved around cleanliness and chastity. He was watching her intently, hardly paying attention to his supposedly cleaned-up version of Rocky Horror. He didn’t see that Rachel’s nipples were protruding through the fabric because she wasn’t wearing a bra under her slip. Or Santana’s “method acting” with Brittany. Or that Sam’s muscle shirt was very, very tight. This was a little more of Santana’s scheming. She’d checked in with Ms. P in her office; the counselor was hard at work not with her regular job but instead planning the costumes for the play. Santana had dropped an insincere but believable apology about her inappropriate comments about her dentist boyfriend, which put her in a good enough mood to agree to put Sam in a medium shiny gold muscle shirt instead of a large. Maybe I’ll see Fabray squirm a little at Rachel getting friendly with another one of her boyfriends.
Brittany seemed receptive to her affections, giggling when Santana put her hands in places that she usually reserved for the bedroom, when they had privacy; places she would avoid even when they were showing off for drunken football players at weekend house parties. Brittany’s eyes were clearly filling with lust as the song progressed, a promise of a fun night in the near future. And maybe Santana did overdo it a bit at the climax of the song, when she began thrusting her hips so hard she’d caused the two of them to tumble off the couch in a tangle of limbs.
The fall was apparently jarring enough to get Mr. Schue’s attention, who call cut on the scene. He told the group to take five, probably to cool himself down from whatever fantasy he was having about Ms. Pillsbury. As Santana and Brittany got themselves untangled and checked for obvious bruises, Rachel descended the stairs in a rather blithe disposition until she noticed Finn’s foul mood. They exchanged words, unwarranted accusations on Finn’s part and appalled justifications on Rachel’s. Santana swore she overheard Rachel claiming she was only thinking of herself during her performance, which had a few disturbing implications of its own.
Brittany seemed distant as Santana tried to pick her up in a show of chivalry. The dress rehearsal of this song was not something the club had gotten to the first time, and Santana was eager to run through it again. Santana followed Brittany’s eyes, seeing a distinct lack of interest from the peanut gallery in either the Finn/Rachel scuffle or Sam’s nervous pacing, but rapt attention on the two of them. Kurt had that knowing look, Artie a lewd grin, and Quinn a suspicious frown.
Brittany turned around as not to face them, whispering in Santana’s ear. “They’re all looking at us. You probably want us to tone it down, right?”
“It’s just the glee club. Who cares what they think?”
“But we’re gonna be doing this in front of everybody: our parents… a bunch of people from school… Coach. They’ll think the wrong thing.”
Santana found it difficult to argue. She wanted to, obviously, but she knew why she’d have trouble in the debate. She knew from whom Brittany had gotten this argument.
This is a step back. I am my own worst enemy.
Chapter 5: A Perfectly Logical Turn of Events
Author: creedogv
Rating: T
Summary: Santana has been given the opportunity to correct her past mistakes with Brittany, so she can’t help but take it. She just didn’t realize she was going to be in it for the long run.
Spoilers: 2x05 “The Rocky Horror Glee Show”
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
So here’s what you missed on Glee. Santana gets Mercedes to partner up with Mike. Besides having a totally bitchin’ duo name “M&M”, Mike finds his voice and uses Nelly to win Tina back. They’d be totally smooth-sailing if it weren’t for the fact that… “We kissed.” Uh-oh, so Mike and Tina are on a break. Brittany and Santana, on the other hand, are doing just dandy. And that’s what you missed on… Glee!
The next week flew by for Santana. She lost hours at a time, and once two straight days. Luckily for her, Cheerios practice typically disappeared, even if the muscle aches didn’t. What seemed important were the fleeting moments with Brittany. She had let the first few pass her by, but began taking advantage of them, not wanting to let one second go to waste. She made sure to hold Brittany extra tight during cuddle time; she whispered sweet nothings in her ear in the middle of class; and she always caught her eye before Cheerios practice. She began to wonder how her body behaved during the blackouts. Did she run on autopilot? Was her autopilot based on her current mental state, or that from five month ago? Did anyone, Brittany especially, notice the difference between her lucid periods and her dark periods?
She was in glee now and Mr. Schue was talking about performing The Rocky Horror Show, or at least an edited adaption of it. She’d seen the movie twice: once with her older brother when she was far too young to understand it, and again when she was fourteen, noticing all the things that had gone over her head, and there were a lot of things. Much like before, Mr. Schue already had most of the parts cast in his mind: Finn and Rachel as the vanilla main couple, Artie as the guy in a wheelchair, Kurt as the tranny (again he balked and got the part of Riff-Raff after some pleading), Sam playing the cinematic version of himself (except with fluid sexuality), and no one playing Eddie, who Mr. Schue cut for reasons unknown.
“We’ll be doubling up on the Columbias and Magentas.” Mr. Schue would have left it there, but Santana decided to be more proactive. “Mr. Schue, which one will I be playing?”
The curly-haired teacher seemed surprised at her interest. “Well, I think you’d be a good fit for one of our Magentas. I wanted to reserve Columbia’s role for Tina and Brittany, who both have tap experience.”
“So can I request ‘Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me’?”
“Uh, sure; you realize that Magenta only has a small part in that song?”
“Yeah, but let’s be honest, Mr. Schue, Magenta and Columbia are totally gettin’ up in each other’s business during that song, and frankly, me and Britts are probably the only two comfortable with the lesbian hijinks.”
“Well, we’re actually going to tone that part down.”
“Santana’s free to it,” Quinn declared. “I don’t care how much you tone it down, I’m not going to be mock-fondling any girls. Does that mean I get ‘Time Warp’?” she asked Santana.
“As long as I get to make it up with ‘Science Fiction’. Let’s be honest, these Latina labias will look much better in close-up than your pale, pencil-thin puckers.”
“Fine, that’ll all work out great,” Schuester noted, “but we’re still down a Dr. Frank.”
Santana’s eyes tilted down to where Tina was sitting and noticed Mike was not sitting by her. She found him in her row, two seats away, looking withdrawn. The courage he gained the week before seemed to have diminished due to his break from Tina. Santana scooted over a chair, finding herself having to extract her pinky from Brittany’s, which she didn’t even remember having connected. Not that that’s a bad thing.
“Hey, Mike,” Santana whispered, “While you’re playing wallflower, Mr. Schue is completely forgetting your Asian ass. You gotta claim a part, honey. Why not try out for Dr. Frank? You’ll impress Tina.”
“Give me a break, Santana,” Mike hissed, “I don’t need you teasing me, saying I’m bi or feminine or whatever.”
“Just trying to help,” she groaned drolly, sliding back into place to where Brittany was seated. She twirled her finger in Brittany’s ponytail and allowed the girl to situate her long legs into her lap.
* * *
Whatever Happened To Saturday Night (Hot Patootie) - Glee Cast feat. John Stamos
Hot Dr. Carl showed up at glee the next day, right on schedule. Will passive-aggressively made him audition for the part he couldn’t pay someone to take. Santana didn’t really like that attitude on her teacher. During Dr. Carl’s rousing edition of “Hot Patootie”, Santana was fully ready to jump up during the swing portion and partner with her blonde lover along with the other couples, except Brittany and Mike started dancing. Tina and Mike are still in limbo, she realized.
Santana got constant updates about their relationship from Brittany, who believed her to be genuinely interested in the repair of their relationship. Perhaps she was; the reasons why she’d conspired to get them back together were nebulous. Was it to get Mike to stop flirting with Brittany? Santana couldn’t pin down her motives precisely. And she couldn’t exactly deny that she had a new outlook on love. Not a week ago (in her mind), she thought love to be a folly, something for the weak-minded. Not anymore.
Santana was never one to take things lying down, so she jumped up, grabbed Tina and Mercedes, and started a dance circle with the three of them. When the couples split up to do some solo dancing, Santana claimed her spot in front of Brittany. The chorus finally popped up again; Brittany grabbed her and Santana got her swing dance. So elated, she got a little caught up with herself at the end. During the final notes, she and Brittany were still in dance position, both sets of hands interlocked, and she leaned in and laid a kiss on Brittany’s cheek before pulling apart. Brittany blushed a little pink but Santana just dropped their hands and linked her pinky to Brittany’s and watched as hot Dr. Carl finished up. Ms. Pillsbury was bouncing and clapping; Mr. Schue was trying not to look too impressed, again filling Santana with a vague sense of disapproval.
When she took a step to the side, she felt Brittany’s arm hold rigid. Brittany was locking eyes with Mercedes and Tina, who were staring in their direction and whispering. Santana caught their eyes and put on her mildest scowl. They looked suitably embarrassed, smiled, and in return Santana smiled at them, but it was a very small smile. She pulled Brittany back to their seats as Mr. Schue tried to use his director powers to keep Carl out of the play. In the end, Sue restored Eddie’s role for Dr. Carl and Mercedes claimed the Frank-N-Furter role. Mr. Schue frowned for rest of the rehearsal.
Santana looked down and noticed that Tina and Mike had accidentally taken seats next to each other and were too embarrassed to move. They kept glancing at each other, each trying not to be caught by the other. It was only a matter of time before they settled their differences, Santana predicted. And Brittany seemed to have forgotten the strange looks they’d gotten and was happily scribbling “SANTANA” on the inside of her forearm with a gel pen. All in all, she thought, things are good. I should probably apply to be a Chrono Knight... or stop playing so much Final Fantasy with my brothers. All good, except Mr. Schue’s pissy mood.
* * *
Quinn had told Santana and Brittany after the morning Cheerios practice that she and Tina were relinquishing “Sweet Transvestite” to them. She repeated, nearly word for word, Santana’s spiel about the pair being more comfortable with the lesbian theatrics. “It’ll be easier renewing my friendship with her if I don’t have to put my hands all over her body.”
The rehearsal of the number went down without a hitch. Except for hot Dr. Carl bursting in through the wall earlier than planned. Ms. Pillsbury clapped. Mr. Schue bitched. And Santana rolled her eyes for the last time at this problem.
Admitting defeat, she acknowledged that her change in perspective about love was now compelling her to take on yet another project: the game of tug-of-war that was being fought between Mr. Schue and hot Dr. Carl, with Miss Pillsbury being the rope. Santana had the benefit of knowing how it was going to turn out: Ms. P would marry Dr. Carl, becoming Mrs. P-H; Mr. Schue would later get his head out of his ass and start tapping Ms. Holiday; and in between there would be a lot of depressing fawning and bad choices by Mr. Schue because of the guidance counselor.
One of those bad choices was the play, obviously, but Santana wasn’t about to ruin the opportunity to relive good memories with Brittany.
But one of those bad choices Santana figured she could do something about.
* * *
Santana was a schemer, not a therapist. She didn’t just talk problems away; she got things done so that problems were crushed beneath her proverbial foot. It’s how things should be done, dammit. This is how she found herself loitering in the boy’s locker room after lunch, knowing her Spanish teacher was changing clothes after his daily routine of running laps around the track. Santana walked around the lockers, finding Will just starting to get his shirt on. Well, hello, William, somebody’s been hiding something under those vests.
“Santana?” Will cried, holding his shirt closed, “What are you doing in the boys’ locker room?”
“Is this like a trick question?”
“Santana, this is highly inappropriate. You’re a minor and I am one of your teachers!”
“Hey, I waited for you to put your pants on! So, in other news,” Santana announced, “I heard you stole the role of the Monster from Sam.”
“I-I didn’t really think it was appropriate for Sam to be portraying such a sexual character.” The excuse sounded rehearsed.
“Yeah,” Santana remarked, uninterested, “so that means during ‘Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me’, the song as you’ll remember I’m really excited to participate in, while Brittany and I are pretending to pretend to get it on, you and Rachel will be pretending to actually get it on. Do I have that right?”
“I, uh…” Will remarked.
Santana lowered her eyebrows.
The intercom saved Will from further embarrassment. “Will Schuester, please come to the principal’s office. It is concerning one of your glee kids.”
Will’s eyes shot open, looking at Santana, who remained calm. “I’m certain that’s not about me.” She grinned, “Well, I’m sure that’s not about me in this particular instance.”
Of course, it turned out to be about Finn roaming the halls in his boxers, scaring students with his doughy body. It wasn’t like Santana needed to eavesdrop outside the office, and it wasn’t like she even needed to be sitting right outside the office, since Principal Figgins’ voice could be heard from all the nearby classrooms, but the glass walls provided a cool surface for Santana to lean against while she filed her nails and listened in. No one would miss her in Art class.
Even Santana was surprised how well her plan worked. In the middle of defending the play, Mr. Schue arrived at the brilliant lie that his playing Rocky was just a brainstorm. “In reality,” he claimed, he’d already commissioned Emma to provide less revealing costumes for Finn, Rachel, and Sam: boxers and an undershirt for Hudson, a slip for Berry, and board shorts and a muscle tee for Evans.
It was a trade-off. Mr. Schue was no longer able to use his role as Rocky to leverage Mrs. Pillsbury into practicing “Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me” in an empty classroom, so Santana expected that hot Dr. Carl wouldn’t be showing up to scream accusations at the glee director. But that also meant that she and Brittany wouldn’t get the chance to creep on the teachers after Cheerios practice, watching them tearing each other’s clothes off from the outside window, which would therefore not lead to them playfully dancing down the hallways followed by some awesome fooling around in Mrs. Castle’s classroom.
But it did mean they’d get to make it up during rehearsals of the song on stage.
* * *
She had to give Rachel credit; she was really dedicated to her craft. In front of her boyfriend-who looked slightly less doughy in his undershirt since the last time Santana’s seen his chest-she passionately sung about losing her virginity to the deliciously muscled Sam-Fabray was a lucky bitch-all while letting him silently put his hands in all her naughty places while grinding up against him.
Santana could see Finn stewing in his seat. Sam had probably just gotten further than he had with Rachel. Granted, she wasn’t paying that much attention, because she was taking advantage of Schuester’s distracted state to overdo her acting with Brittany: rubbing her stockinged legs, petting her arms, fondling the bow on her blouse, positioning herself between Brittany’s legs, actually kissing her neck instead of just miming it, and she did it all on a tiny couch that forced them to remain very close. So, Fabray may be a lucky bitch, but she was a much luckier one.
The reason for Mr. Schue’s distraction was of course the guidance counselor. Ms. Pillsbury was seated in the audience, singing along with Rachel about wanting to be dirty and naughty, nearly as engrossed as the tiny actress, which was saying something, especially for a woman whose entire existence revolved around cleanliness and chastity. He was watching her intently, hardly paying attention to his supposedly cleaned-up version of Rocky Horror. He didn’t see that Rachel’s nipples were protruding through the fabric because she wasn’t wearing a bra under her slip. Or Santana’s “method acting” with Brittany. Or that Sam’s muscle shirt was very, very tight. This was a little more of Santana’s scheming. She’d checked in with Ms. P in her office; the counselor was hard at work not with her regular job but instead planning the costumes for the play. Santana had dropped an insincere but believable apology about her inappropriate comments about her dentist boyfriend, which put her in a good enough mood to agree to put Sam in a medium shiny gold muscle shirt instead of a large. Maybe I’ll see Fabray squirm a little at Rachel getting friendly with another one of her boyfriends.
Brittany seemed receptive to her affections, giggling when Santana put her hands in places that she usually reserved for the bedroom, when they had privacy; places she would avoid even when they were showing off for drunken football players at weekend house parties. Brittany’s eyes were clearly filling with lust as the song progressed, a promise of a fun night in the near future. And maybe Santana did overdo it a bit at the climax of the song, when she began thrusting her hips so hard she’d caused the two of them to tumble off the couch in a tangle of limbs.
The fall was apparently jarring enough to get Mr. Schue’s attention, who call cut on the scene. He told the group to take five, probably to cool himself down from whatever fantasy he was having about Ms. Pillsbury. As Santana and Brittany got themselves untangled and checked for obvious bruises, Rachel descended the stairs in a rather blithe disposition until she noticed Finn’s foul mood. They exchanged words, unwarranted accusations on Finn’s part and appalled justifications on Rachel’s. Santana swore she overheard Rachel claiming she was only thinking of herself during her performance, which had a few disturbing implications of its own.
Brittany seemed distant as Santana tried to pick her up in a show of chivalry. The dress rehearsal of this song was not something the club had gotten to the first time, and Santana was eager to run through it again. Santana followed Brittany’s eyes, seeing a distinct lack of interest from the peanut gallery in either the Finn/Rachel scuffle or Sam’s nervous pacing, but rapt attention on the two of them. Kurt had that knowing look, Artie a lewd grin, and Quinn a suspicious frown.
Brittany turned around as not to face them, whispering in Santana’s ear. “They’re all looking at us. You probably want us to tone it down, right?”
“It’s just the glee club. Who cares what they think?”
“But we’re gonna be doing this in front of everybody: our parents… a bunch of people from school… Coach. They’ll think the wrong thing.”
Santana found it difficult to argue. She wanted to, obviously, but she knew why she’d have trouble in the debate. She knew from whom Brittany had gotten this argument.
This is a step back. I am my own worst enemy.
Chapter 5: A Perfectly Logical Turn of Events