Doing It Right (16.5/19)
Title: Doing It Right, Chapter 16: Just Want Someone to Want Me, Part 2
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. It’s Artie last chance to win over Brittany, and the club holds another round of auditions.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Word Count: ~4400/7500
Spoilers: 2x13 “Comeback”
Author’s Note: I promised my FFN peeps that each chapter would be longer than the previous one. I’m not making that promise again.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
Carl briskly walked through the hallways of McKinley High, entered Emma’s office and stood in front of the door, trapping her inside.
“Emma, you’ve got to talk to me.”
Emma was at her desk. “Carl, I…”
“Sweetie, I want you to come back home. Or at least come back to me. We’ve got a wedding in less than four months and the planner says you’ve been canceling all your appointments. Unless you want me to choose all the details… and frankly, I’m not good at it. It’s quickly turning into a Beach Boys-themed wedding simply because it’s on the beach.”
“I just need some space, Carl.”
“You’ve been alone for almost a week, Sweetheart. Have you been going to your psych appointments? I’m not privy to your records since we’re not married yet.”
Emma just nodded.
“Is it helping at all?”
Emma just shook her head no.
“Emma, Sweetie, I don’t know what to do. You’re obviously hurting and I can’t figure out how I’m supposed to help. Is there something you’re not telling me? About your past?”
“No,” she insisted, “I just… I wasn’t ready and I had convinced myself that I was, and now… I don’t know.”
“Plenty of people regret their first time. But this goes beyond that. Emma, we can’t get married if you’re not ready to be married and all that it entails. Is this about Will? Are you still in love with him?”
“No! This is not about Will, Carl. This is about me and how messed up I am!”
Carl leaned over by Emma’s side. “Sweetheart, you are not messed up. You have a very common condition that you’ve made huge strides in. Except Will tells me you’ve relapsed pretty bad.”
“Will?”
“Yeah, he came to me about you. He was worried, and so am I.”
Emma cowered deeper into her seat. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to be happy. And I want to make sure that it’s me who can give that to you.”
Emma remained silent.
* * *
It was twenty minutes into the scheduled audition time when the first candidate walked in. Santana was surprised to see it was Zira Phillips, her teammate on the track team. It was the first time Santana had seen her out of gym shorts and a tee-shirt; instead, she wore a shiny silk blouse over a pencil skirt. A little dressy; maybe it’s a European thing?
“Lezzie,” she greeted Santana as she walked by through the aisle.
“Limey,” Santana called after her.
Zira got on stage. “So, my apologies for not auditioning earlier. We don’t have glee clubs in England, so I wasn’t aware that it was singing that you did.”
“We’ve done performances at pep rallies,” Will pointed out.
“Don’t have those in England neither. Been skippin’ ‘em. No harm, no foul.” She motioned for Brad to start and began to belt:
A few stolen moments is all that we share
You’ve got your family, and they need you there
Though I’ve tried to resist, being last on your list
But no other man’s gonna do
So I’m saving all my love for you
Mercedes shook her head. “Uh-uh. That girl is not doing Whitney Houston. We’ve already got our fill of chocolate diva. Don’t need none of that in here.”
Mercedes’s opinion was not shared by the rest of the glee club who cheered wildly for the British singer.
After another five minute silence, the next candidate walked in. He was a tall, broad-shouldered boy of Indian descent wearing cargo shorts and soccer jersey. He recounted awkwardly, “Hi, I’m Rajeesh Srinivasan. I’m on the soccer team and play keyboard in the jazz band, and Artie invited me to audition, so this is it.” Artie was deposited on stage by Puck, Mike, and Sam. Rajeesh’s awkwardness disappeared as began to strut on stage, with Artie backing up him on vocals.
I’m so (Caught up)
Got me feelin’ it (Caught up)
I don’t know what it is
But it seems she’s got me twisted
I’m so (Caught up)
Got me feelin’ it (Caught up)
I’m losin’ control
This girl got a hold on me
Mercedes eyes widened. “Uh-huh.” She grabbed Tina’s leg. “That fine boy is singing some Usher. We need all that in here. Why hasn’t Artie introduced us?”
“Why not go introduce yourself and browbeat Artie later?”
“Not a bad idea.”
Rajeesh’s performance was well-received by the club. He bumped fists with Artie and walked down the stairs to fill out a sign-up sheet.
When Faith finally walked into the auditorium with a guitar case in her hand, Santana leapt up. “I was afraid you weren’t coming.” She looked at Faith’s ensemble: a white blouse and blue jeans. It wasn’t the fancy outfit that Zira had shown off, but it worked on her.
“When I told my mom I was doing a solo for choir, she thought she was supposed to take my guitar to church instead of school.”
“Whatever, just get up there. You’d better be awesome because my rep’s on the line.”
“You’re not a people person, are you?”
“Don’t be nervous or whatever. Mr. Schue’s easy to impress and everyone else has been pretty liberal with praise. There: pep talk.”
Faith pulled out her guitar and then spent far too long tuning in Santana’s opinion. She finally announced into the microphone, “Hi, my name’s Faith Jennings, and I’ll be doing my favorite song by Carrie Underwood. I think you’ll all recognize it.”
She was driving last Friday on her way to Cincinnati
On a snow white Christmas Eve
Going home to see her Mama and her Daddy
With the baby in the backseat
Fifty miles to go and she was running low
On faith and gasoline
It’d been a long hard year
She had a lot on her mind and she didn’t pay attention
She was going way too fast
Before she knew it she was spinning
On a thin black sheet of glass
She saw both their lives flash before her eyes
She didn’t even have time to cry
She was so scared
She threw her hands up in the air
Jesus, take the wheel
Take it from my hands
‘Cause I can’t do this on my own
I’m letting go
So give me one more chance
To save me from this road I’m on
Jesus, take the wheel
Santana let out a sigh of relief. Faith was talented in both voice and instrument. At the end of the song, there was the typical cheering. Ms. Holliday turned around in her seat and whispered, “Good catch, Lopez. And what a cutie. Are you two…?”
“No,” Santana insisted, “she’s a total Jesus freak. Just a friend I made during a little project I was working on.”
“She’s got my vote.”
Santana sat back down, noticing that Brittany had taken an interest in the conversation. She didn’t have time to address her, as she jumped up in her seat to meet Faith. “That was pretty sweet,” she complimented, “Glad you could come out.”
“No problem. I love singing. So I’ll see you around,” she muttered, cautiously inching away from the Latina.
When Santana turned back Jewfro was on stage. “So,” he asked, in that voice that could curdle milk, “Rachel, are you still dating Finn?”
Rachel glared, threading her arm through Finn’s. “Yes, I am.”
“Okay, then,” he answered, walking off stage without another word.
The next candidate to appear on stage was the theater runt, and Santana almost didn’t recognize her, as the girl had apparently changed her hair color from peroxide blonde to mahogany brown overnight, but kept it in the weird prickly bun with a pink plastic orchid stuck in it. She was wearing a blouse with a swirl of colors: purples, yellows, and green; and a short jean skirt with an elaborate flowers-and-vines motif sewn in. She was also wearing a huge pair of snow white clogs which failed to make her look any taller.
She handed sheet music to Brad, who gave it the once over, eyed her, and started playing. Genevieve, oblivious to the entire room, began to sing as if she were having a conversation in song:
Whatever happened to my part?
It was exciting at the start
Now we’re halfway through Act 2
And I’ve had nothing yet to do.
I’ve been offstage for far too long
It’s ages since I had a song
This is one unhappy Diva
The producers have deceived her
There is nothing I can sing from my heart
Whatever Happened to My Part?
I am sick of my career
Always starting second gear
Up to here, with frustration and with fears
I’ve no Grammy no rewards
I’ve no Tony Awards,
I’m constantly replaced with Britney Spears
Brittany began clapping in her seat. Rachel looked absolutely scandalized for reasons known only to herself. The song came to an end and Genevieve bowed in each direction, her eyes focused near the back of the room, when the majority of the club was sparsely dispersed near the front of the house.
When Lauren Zizes walked on stage, Santana was perplexed. Puck had convinced her to join last time not because of her love of music but because her love of his body. Did he ask her to join? I know we have a little bit of club endogamy going on, but we’re not that incestuous, are we? Maybe she’s joining to impress him? Except she already has him hooked.
“This is ‘Sweet Dreams’ by the Eurythmics,” she announced.
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I travel the world
And the seven seas
Everybody’s looking for something.
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused
Santana wasn’t sure what to make of Zizes’s song. Okay, she doesn’t suck. Then again, it’s it possible to suck on this song? The broad girl had injected the emotionless song with not the bleak, ominous feeling one would expect but rather a kind of prideful, victorious aura. It was disquieting. The club clapped politely, and Puck cheered louder in response to the deficit of enthusiasm. Zizes obviously noticed, but had no reaction, and simply exited the stage more assuredly than any of the other candidates had.
Meanwhile, outside the auditorium, Dave Karofsky was hovering near the back doors. He didn’t see his teammate Chris Strando turn the corner. When Strando laid eyes on Karofsky, he scrambled to find the nearest trash can, where he stuffed in the sheet music to Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up”. The noise alerted Karofsky, who jumped just as much as Strando when he saw his friend. “Hey,” he said, lamely. “So, I was thinking about playing a prank on the glee freaks.”
“Yeah, I had the same idea. Those posters are everywhere. What was your idea?”
Karofsky froze. “I was gonna wing it, but now I’m rethinking that idea. Principal Sylvester’s watching me too close. It ain’t worth it.”
Strando was relieved. “No, that makes sense. I probably shouldn’t put myself on her radar either. So, I’m guess we should just head home, right?”
“Yeah, probably a good idea. See you tomorrow, bro.”
“See ya, player.”
Karofsky waited a full thirty seconds and then opened his backpack where there was a printout of the sheet music to Hoobastank’s “The Reason”, which he stuffed back into his backpack and walked off.
* * *
Brittany came to school wearing dressed like Rachel: plaid skirt, knee socks, headband, and an animal sweater depicting a sleeping cat.
Artie wasn’t pleased. “Girl, what’s with this getup? You’re covering everything up! I want people at this school to see what they can’t have ‘cuz I gots it.”
Brittany frowned. “Really, ‘cause, like, all of my thighs are exposed. I pulled the skirt up over my belly button and I’m pretty sure you can see my underwear when I walk.”
“That’s true. And I gots the perfect vantage point,” he muttered, leaning over in his wheelchair to ogle Brittany’s legs. Brittany turned and walked away. “Ooh, this angle ain’t bad either!” When he noticed her body language was indicating anger, he raced after her. “Baby, I’m sorry. What’s wrong?”
Brittany spun around and glared at him. “Why are you acting like this? Are you pretending to be Puck or something? But, you know, black Puck? Or white Puck pretending to be black? Wait, Puck’s already white…”
Seeing that Brittany was on a ramble train, he interrupted, “I’m sorry. I thought maybe I wasn’t giving you enough attention. I figured you’d like the street talk and the pervy glances.”
“Why?” Brittany replied incredulously.
Artie didn’t answer, hoping she’d make the connection. When she didn’t, he asked, “What did you like about me in the first place?”
“You were a really nice guy, Artie.”
“That may have worked in the beginning, but it’s obviously not what you want anymore.”
Brittany bowed her head guiltily. “I’ll see you in glee, Artie. I’m excited about the new people.”
Artie wasn’t even listening. “You would be,” he replied sadly.
* * *
Glee that afternoon got off to a late start. Will had sent out invitations to all the students who’d tried out, but none of them showed up at 3:30.
They’d reluctantly started discussing the anthem that was going to have to be part of their Regionals set list. Rachel listened about ten from various Broadway musicals before she was cut off. When she suggested “Seasons of Love” from Rent, Puck remarked that it sounded gay, and Santana had to slap upside the head. “Bad lesbro! No treat!”
Anthems from The Who to The Rolling Stones to Queen to The Beatles were thrown out, though none was a clear favorite, and Holly simply wrote them all down with pride.
Finally twenty minutes into practice, Lauren Zizes wandered in. “Sorry, emergency A/V club meeting. What’s up?”
Puck perked up, much to Santana’s dislike. Apparently his stop at Zizestown was going to be an extended stay. The girl suggested something from Twisted Sister once she was brought up to speed.
It wasn’t until practice was dismissed that Santana realized none of the other candidates had shown up. Artie was muttering that Rajeesh had bailed on them to join Anthony Rashad’s garage band. Mercedes looks particularly melancholy at this development. Rachel was passive-aggressively muttering how Genevieve was obviously intimated by her superior talent and then apologized for scaring away so many recruits. Santana didn’t say anything about her recruit, until Brittany brought it up.
“What happened to your… friend? The pretty one who sang about Jesus stealing a car?” She seemed awfully shy.
“I don’t know. I’ll have to confront her about it. By the way, love the new look. Wanna give me some style tips?”
“Yeah!” Brittany beamed.
* * *
Santana came to school with Brittany that morning, both of them dressed in cat sweaters and skirts.
“I think this is the new trend,” Santana remarked, “I look so classy, which really reflects the fact my GPA just jumped above a 3.5. A pair of glasses and I might just have to join the Quiz Bowl team.”
“You’d look hot in glasses.”
“I look hot in everything. We should try dressing like nuns tomorrows.”
“Sexy nuns?”
“I don’t think it’s possible for us to be unsexy nuns.”
Artie rolled up. “Brittany,” he greeted brightly. “Santana,” he greeted darkly.
“Hey, Artie,” Santana greeted brightly, just to spite him, “Do you like our new look? Britts and I are just crazy about pussy cats.”
Artie’s eyes narrowed, but Brittany didn’t pick up on it, just looked down at her shirt. “How can you tell these are girl cats? And what are boy cats called?” Her mouth opened to speculate, but Artie cut her off.
“Tom cats.”
“That must be confusing, all being named Tom.”
“Can we talk about something else?” Artie asked.
“Nah,” Santana replied to Brittany, “They can just go by ‘Thomas’ or ‘Tommy’ or ‘Thomson.’ And then you know that plenty of them have funny names like ‘Macavity’ and ‘Rumpleteazer.’”
“Santana,” Brittany replied dismissively, “That was just a play. Those weren’t real cats. They were furries who mixed up their D.N.A.”
Artie rolled his eyes, “Brittany, babe…” Brittany tensed at the term of endearment. “…do you maybe want to have lunch together in the choir room? I’ve got something cool I want to show you.”
Brittany immediately turned to Santana, who kept her face neutral. Brittany turned back and with a visible lack of enthusiasm, replied, “Sure. I need to get some stuff out of my locker, but I’ll see you there.”
Santana turned to open her own locker. She had everything she needed in her backpack, but hoped to highlight the fact that their lockers were near each other. Artie got the message and rolled off.
“Sorry,” she muttered weakly.
Santana hid her sadness. “For what? It’s just lunch. It doesn’t mean you’re married to him.”
Before Brittany could stumble through expressing her feelings, Rachel walked up, dragging Quinn by the arm behind her. “Ladies, are these or are these not the same style?” She pointed to her own typical style and Quinn, who was also dressed in a skirt and animal sweater.
“Q’s totally rocking the kitty cat look. You seem to think the style is trout.”
“These are obviously betta fish, a colorful, elegant, and exotic breed, not unlike myself.”
“Fish are so last week,” Santana remarked.
On cue, Scott Cooper walked by and threw a Big Quench cup of murky water on Rachel. “It’s salmon time, baby!” he joked, thrusting out the decal on his hockey jersey.
“Wow, and I thought the football jerks were dumb,” Quinn replied.
Santana caught Brittany looking at her expectantly. “Oh, yeah, I’m the type of person who doesn’t let this stand, right?” She turned to Rachel, “Look, Brittany will get you cleaned up, right?” Brittany nodded. “Q, you and me are going to break into the cafeteria and steal a box or two of fish sticks. I think you know why.”
Quinn nodded as Brittany steered Rachel towards the restrooms.
As she watched the pair leave, she noticed Faith down the hallways, so she excused herself from Quinn and raced over to her locker. “You missed practice yesterday.”
“Hi, Santana. I’m not joining. Sorry.”
“Why not? Afraid your popularity going to plunge?”
“It’s not that. My folks won’t let me.”
“Why not?”
Faith sighed. “The real reason I was so late was that I got into an argument with my mom after she dropped my guitar off. She’s heard the rumors about how it got Kurt Hummel driven off.”
“She’s afraid you’ll get bullied?”
She acidly explained, “No, she’s afraid I’ll become one of those ‘deviants’ who got that ‘nice boy’ Dave Karofsky in trouble. Worse, she doesn’t like that ‘that lesbian’ is part of the club.” She resisted making eye contact with Santana.
“Oh.” Santana took a step back.
“Santana…”
“So, that’s it? You don’t approve of me or Kurt?”
“It’s not that. Frankly, I don’t know where I stand on the issue. You seem perfectly nice… basically. And I really don’t know Kurt that well, but I never heard anything negative about him except he was a little full of himself. Outside the ‘fag’ language.”
“Your family thinks that God considers us abominations?”
Faith’s fingers brushed a verse taped to her locker: John 3:16. “God loves everybody, and I believe that. But at the same time I’m told that He hates certain people, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to believe that, too. But I do believe the Bible is truth and ignoring certain passages because I don’t like them is a danger precedent. It’s just an issue I haven’t really reconciled my belief on.”
“That’s a lot of words to say ‘yes’.”
“It’s a lot of words to say I don’t want to hate you for who you are.”
“My parents drag me to mass exactly twice a year, once at midnight in the dead of Ohio winter and once at the crack of dawn on a Sunday when it’s still chilly. At one, I learn about a magical baby born in a barn under a supernova with cows and angels. At the other, I learn that that baby grows up to be a total badass who gets Himself nailed a piece of wood so that all the things I do don’t get me sent to Hell: the mean things… the dumbass things… the really awesome, beautiful things that a bunch of rednecks think are unnatural.”
“I’m sorry, Santana. It seems dumb to me, too. Glee looks like a fun club, even though I kind of disapprove of the songs you guys do at the pep rallies. But it’s not my decision; my parents won’t sign the release form that allows me to go to your competitions. And do you expect me to lie to them about why I stay after school three times a week? It’ll get back to them. They’re very nosy.”
“A kid’s gotta learn to stand up to their parents.”
Faith shrugged, “Someday maybe I’ll learn to overlook that passage in Leviticus. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to follow the Fifth Commandment.”
“‘Don’t kill people’?”
“‘Honor your mother and father.’ I think Catholics renumber them.”
“I think you don’t fully understand the Protestant Reformation.”
Faith chuckled to herself. “I don’t suppose you want to be my friend.”
“Ask me again when you’re not afraid of me turning you to the dark side.” Santana walked away. Faith watched her go, staring a little more intently than she thought ought to at Santana’s skirt.
: : :
Santana had enough of Brittany’s constant pouting. She held an intervention for her in the library during lunch. Technically, since she didn’t invite all of Brittany’s friends and family, it was more of a confrontation.
Now that they were alone in a secluded part of the library, she asked, “Brittany, do you know why I asked you here?”
“Not really. There’s only two reasons you ever invite me to the library. The first is to deface the yearbook. The second is… something we don’t do anymore.”
“Sweetie, it’s been a week since Artie asked you for a second chance. Do you want to be with him?”
Tears filled Brittany’s eyes. “I just… promised him after Valentine’s Day that I would really consider staying with him.”
“Sweetie, you gave it your all. Artie can’t fulfill all your needs.”
“You mean sexy things?”
“Is it sexy things?” Santana already knew the answer to that question.
Brittany nodded. “He’s so sweet and tender, but… it’s not enough.”
“Brittany, I know what I said before, but I can’t stand seeing you like this. You asked me why you couldn’t have us both, why things couldn’t be like they used to be, and I told you that it was because I couldn’t share. Sweetie, what I can’t do is have a little of you but not have it all. So, this is me admitting defeat. If you want me on the side, I’ll up for it. It’s up to you whether you tell Artie.”
“No, that wouldn’t be right.” Santana frowned, but Brittany had more to say. “I’m going to break up with him. For good.”
Santana’s heart leapt. This is going better than planned; I was just gonna seduce her. She let Brittany, who obviously had a lot of words backed up in her brain, continue.
“I love Artie. I really do. He’s so kind and so wonderful to me. He makes me feel wanted. But I’m not sure I want him anymore. Not the way I should if he’s my boyfriend. I’m not saying I just have ebonic feelings for him, but my girly feelings aren’t strong enough.” She struggled to hold something in, but failed, “I miss you and I love you and I’m not saying I love you better than, I’m just saying I love you…”
“Differently.”
Brittany nodded.
Santana was almost incapable of containing her excitement. No, seriously, this is everything. This could like be the moment where I’ve fixed everything. She like seconds away from her asking to be with me. Mission accomplished!
Santana continued the conversation's downward descent. “It’s going to be hard on Artie no matter what. He’s really attached to you. For a while, he’s going to be mad at you. But not forever. He and Tina may not exactly be good friends, but they’re civil and they’ve moved on. You guys will too. I don’t want you to worry about his feelings, though. Think about your own feelings.” She went in for the kill, placing her hand on top of Brittany’s. “You know you can come to me for anything. For everything. I’ll give you everything Artie gave you, and more if I can manage it.” Her hand started to snake up Brittany’s forearm.
Brittany pulled her arm away. “Thank you, Santana, but we can’t start dating.”
“Wait, what?” This conversation took a sharp turn in the wrong direction.
“This is a serious adult-ish relationship. I can’t just jump from boyfriend to girlfriend. I owe it to Artie. I need a little bit of time.”
Santana leaned her head back in frustration. “God, you’re so noble,” she said it like it was a dirty word. She calmly admitted, “I’ve been waiting for you for longer than you could imagine. What’s another week or two? We’re talking a week or two, right?”
It was Brittany’s turn to place her hand on Santana’s arm. “Very soon, Santana. I can’t just jump between your legs yet.”
Santana chuckled. “You mean into my arms?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I do plan on jumping between your legs, though.”
She said it so casually, Santana almost didn’t catch it. “Wait, what?” This conversation has too many twists and turns.
“I’m on the rebound,” Brittany explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Santana, haven’t you heard? Sex isn’t dating.”
Author’s Note: If lets_duet wasn’t up to her ass in prompts, I’d have her write a nice Brittany/Santana sexy-times snippet.
So, what are the odds that the same four ladies who Santana approached last week would all be talented singers (and Zizes) who all decide to try out? In the real word, infinitesimally small. On Glee, one hundred percent. But why create all these characters and not use them, i.e. have them join glee? Because there’s no need. Not everything works out on the show either. If I ever do a Season 3 AU, I’ll probably include some of these characters.
Chapter 17: In Vino Varietas
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. It’s Artie last chance to win over Brittany, and the club holds another round of auditions.
Pairing: Santana/Brittany
Word Count: ~4400/7500
Spoilers: 2x13 “Comeback”
Author’s Note: I promised my FFN peeps that each chapter would be longer than the previous one. I’m not making that promise again.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
Carl briskly walked through the hallways of McKinley High, entered Emma’s office and stood in front of the door, trapping her inside.
“Emma, you’ve got to talk to me.”
Emma was at her desk. “Carl, I…”
“Sweetie, I want you to come back home. Or at least come back to me. We’ve got a wedding in less than four months and the planner says you’ve been canceling all your appointments. Unless you want me to choose all the details… and frankly, I’m not good at it. It’s quickly turning into a Beach Boys-themed wedding simply because it’s on the beach.”
“I just need some space, Carl.”
“You’ve been alone for almost a week, Sweetheart. Have you been going to your psych appointments? I’m not privy to your records since we’re not married yet.”
Emma just nodded.
“Is it helping at all?”
Emma just shook her head no.
“Emma, Sweetie, I don’t know what to do. You’re obviously hurting and I can’t figure out how I’m supposed to help. Is there something you’re not telling me? About your past?”
“No,” she insisted, “I just… I wasn’t ready and I had convinced myself that I was, and now… I don’t know.”
“Plenty of people regret their first time. But this goes beyond that. Emma, we can’t get married if you’re not ready to be married and all that it entails. Is this about Will? Are you still in love with him?”
“No! This is not about Will, Carl. This is about me and how messed up I am!”
Carl leaned over by Emma’s side. “Sweetheart, you are not messed up. You have a very common condition that you’ve made huge strides in. Except Will tells me you’ve relapsed pretty bad.”
“Will?”
“Yeah, he came to me about you. He was worried, and so am I.”
Emma cowered deeper into her seat. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to be happy. And I want to make sure that it’s me who can give that to you.”
Emma remained silent.
* * *
It was twenty minutes into the scheduled audition time when the first candidate walked in. Santana was surprised to see it was Zira Phillips, her teammate on the track team. It was the first time Santana had seen her out of gym shorts and a tee-shirt; instead, she wore a shiny silk blouse over a pencil skirt. A little dressy; maybe it’s a European thing?
“Lezzie,” she greeted Santana as she walked by through the aisle.
“Limey,” Santana called after her.
Zira got on stage. “So, my apologies for not auditioning earlier. We don’t have glee clubs in England, so I wasn’t aware that it was singing that you did.”
“We’ve done performances at pep rallies,” Will pointed out.
“Don’t have those in England neither. Been skippin’ ‘em. No harm, no foul.” She motioned for Brad to start and began to belt:
A few stolen moments is all that we share
You’ve got your family, and they need you there
Though I’ve tried to resist, being last on your list
But no other man’s gonna do
So I’m saving all my love for you
Mercedes shook her head. “Uh-uh. That girl is not doing Whitney Houston. We’ve already got our fill of chocolate diva. Don’t need none of that in here.”
Mercedes’s opinion was not shared by the rest of the glee club who cheered wildly for the British singer.
After another five minute silence, the next candidate walked in. He was a tall, broad-shouldered boy of Indian descent wearing cargo shorts and soccer jersey. He recounted awkwardly, “Hi, I’m Rajeesh Srinivasan. I’m on the soccer team and play keyboard in the jazz band, and Artie invited me to audition, so this is it.” Artie was deposited on stage by Puck, Mike, and Sam. Rajeesh’s awkwardness disappeared as began to strut on stage, with Artie backing up him on vocals.
I’m so (Caught up)
Got me feelin’ it (Caught up)
I don’t know what it is
But it seems she’s got me twisted
I’m so (Caught up)
Got me feelin’ it (Caught up)
I’m losin’ control
This girl got a hold on me
Mercedes eyes widened. “Uh-huh.” She grabbed Tina’s leg. “That fine boy is singing some Usher. We need all that in here. Why hasn’t Artie introduced us?”
“Why not go introduce yourself and browbeat Artie later?”
“Not a bad idea.”
Rajeesh’s performance was well-received by the club. He bumped fists with Artie and walked down the stairs to fill out a sign-up sheet.
When Faith finally walked into the auditorium with a guitar case in her hand, Santana leapt up. “I was afraid you weren’t coming.” She looked at Faith’s ensemble: a white blouse and blue jeans. It wasn’t the fancy outfit that Zira had shown off, but it worked on her.
“When I told my mom I was doing a solo for choir, she thought she was supposed to take my guitar to church instead of school.”
“Whatever, just get up there. You’d better be awesome because my rep’s on the line.”
“You’re not a people person, are you?”
“Don’t be nervous or whatever. Mr. Schue’s easy to impress and everyone else has been pretty liberal with praise. There: pep talk.”
Faith pulled out her guitar and then spent far too long tuning in Santana’s opinion. She finally announced into the microphone, “Hi, my name’s Faith Jennings, and I’ll be doing my favorite song by Carrie Underwood. I think you’ll all recognize it.”
She was driving last Friday on her way to Cincinnati
On a snow white Christmas Eve
Going home to see her Mama and her Daddy
With the baby in the backseat
Fifty miles to go and she was running low
On faith and gasoline
It’d been a long hard year
She had a lot on her mind and she didn’t pay attention
She was going way too fast
Before she knew it she was spinning
On a thin black sheet of glass
She saw both their lives flash before her eyes
She didn’t even have time to cry
She was so scared
She threw her hands up in the air
Jesus, take the wheel
Take it from my hands
‘Cause I can’t do this on my own
I’m letting go
So give me one more chance
To save me from this road I’m on
Jesus, take the wheel
Santana let out a sigh of relief. Faith was talented in both voice and instrument. At the end of the song, there was the typical cheering. Ms. Holliday turned around in her seat and whispered, “Good catch, Lopez. And what a cutie. Are you two…?”
“No,” Santana insisted, “she’s a total Jesus freak. Just a friend I made during a little project I was working on.”
“She’s got my vote.”
Santana sat back down, noticing that Brittany had taken an interest in the conversation. She didn’t have time to address her, as she jumped up in her seat to meet Faith. “That was pretty sweet,” she complimented, “Glad you could come out.”
“No problem. I love singing. So I’ll see you around,” she muttered, cautiously inching away from the Latina.
When Santana turned back Jewfro was on stage. “So,” he asked, in that voice that could curdle milk, “Rachel, are you still dating Finn?”
Rachel glared, threading her arm through Finn’s. “Yes, I am.”
“Okay, then,” he answered, walking off stage without another word.
The next candidate to appear on stage was the theater runt, and Santana almost didn’t recognize her, as the girl had apparently changed her hair color from peroxide blonde to mahogany brown overnight, but kept it in the weird prickly bun with a pink plastic orchid stuck in it. She was wearing a blouse with a swirl of colors: purples, yellows, and green; and a short jean skirt with an elaborate flowers-and-vines motif sewn in. She was also wearing a huge pair of snow white clogs which failed to make her look any taller.
She handed sheet music to Brad, who gave it the once over, eyed her, and started playing. Genevieve, oblivious to the entire room, began to sing as if she were having a conversation in song:
Whatever happened to my part?
It was exciting at the start
Now we’re halfway through Act 2
And I’ve had nothing yet to do.
I’ve been offstage for far too long
It’s ages since I had a song
This is one unhappy Diva
The producers have deceived her
There is nothing I can sing from my heart
Whatever Happened to My Part?
I am sick of my career
Always starting second gear
Up to here, with frustration and with fears
I’ve no Grammy no rewards
I’ve no Tony Awards,
I’m constantly replaced with Britney Spears
Brittany began clapping in her seat. Rachel looked absolutely scandalized for reasons known only to herself. The song came to an end and Genevieve bowed in each direction, her eyes focused near the back of the room, when the majority of the club was sparsely dispersed near the front of the house.
When Lauren Zizes walked on stage, Santana was perplexed. Puck had convinced her to join last time not because of her love of music but because her love of his body. Did he ask her to join? I know we have a little bit of club endogamy going on, but we’re not that incestuous, are we? Maybe she’s joining to impress him? Except she already has him hooked.
“This is ‘Sweet Dreams’ by the Eurythmics,” she announced.
Sweet dreams are made of this
Who am I to disagree?
I travel the world
And the seven seas
Everybody’s looking for something.
Some of them want to use you
Some of them want to get used by you
Some of them want to abuse you
Some of them want to be abused
Santana wasn’t sure what to make of Zizes’s song. Okay, she doesn’t suck. Then again, it’s it possible to suck on this song? The broad girl had injected the emotionless song with not the bleak, ominous feeling one would expect but rather a kind of prideful, victorious aura. It was disquieting. The club clapped politely, and Puck cheered louder in response to the deficit of enthusiasm. Zizes obviously noticed, but had no reaction, and simply exited the stage more assuredly than any of the other candidates had.
Meanwhile, outside the auditorium, Dave Karofsky was hovering near the back doors. He didn’t see his teammate Chris Strando turn the corner. When Strando laid eyes on Karofsky, he scrambled to find the nearest trash can, where he stuffed in the sheet music to Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up”. The noise alerted Karofsky, who jumped just as much as Strando when he saw his friend. “Hey,” he said, lamely. “So, I was thinking about playing a prank on the glee freaks.”
“Yeah, I had the same idea. Those posters are everywhere. What was your idea?”
Karofsky froze. “I was gonna wing it, but now I’m rethinking that idea. Principal Sylvester’s watching me too close. It ain’t worth it.”
Strando was relieved. “No, that makes sense. I probably shouldn’t put myself on her radar either. So, I’m guess we should just head home, right?”
“Yeah, probably a good idea. See you tomorrow, bro.”
“See ya, player.”
Karofsky waited a full thirty seconds and then opened his backpack where there was a printout of the sheet music to Hoobastank’s “The Reason”, which he stuffed back into his backpack and walked off.
* * *
Brittany came to school wearing dressed like Rachel: plaid skirt, knee socks, headband, and an animal sweater depicting a sleeping cat.
Artie wasn’t pleased. “Girl, what’s with this getup? You’re covering everything up! I want people at this school to see what they can’t have ‘cuz I gots it.”
Brittany frowned. “Really, ‘cause, like, all of my thighs are exposed. I pulled the skirt up over my belly button and I’m pretty sure you can see my underwear when I walk.”
“That’s true. And I gots the perfect vantage point,” he muttered, leaning over in his wheelchair to ogle Brittany’s legs. Brittany turned and walked away. “Ooh, this angle ain’t bad either!” When he noticed her body language was indicating anger, he raced after her. “Baby, I’m sorry. What’s wrong?”
Brittany spun around and glared at him. “Why are you acting like this? Are you pretending to be Puck or something? But, you know, black Puck? Or white Puck pretending to be black? Wait, Puck’s already white…”
Seeing that Brittany was on a ramble train, he interrupted, “I’m sorry. I thought maybe I wasn’t giving you enough attention. I figured you’d like the street talk and the pervy glances.”
“Why?” Brittany replied incredulously.
Artie didn’t answer, hoping she’d make the connection. When she didn’t, he asked, “What did you like about me in the first place?”
“You were a really nice guy, Artie.”
“That may have worked in the beginning, but it’s obviously not what you want anymore.”
Brittany bowed her head guiltily. “I’ll see you in glee, Artie. I’m excited about the new people.”
Artie wasn’t even listening. “You would be,” he replied sadly.
* * *
Glee that afternoon got off to a late start. Will had sent out invitations to all the students who’d tried out, but none of them showed up at 3:30.
They’d reluctantly started discussing the anthem that was going to have to be part of their Regionals set list. Rachel listened about ten from various Broadway musicals before she was cut off. When she suggested “Seasons of Love” from Rent, Puck remarked that it sounded gay, and Santana had to slap upside the head. “Bad lesbro! No treat!”
Anthems from The Who to The Rolling Stones to Queen to The Beatles were thrown out, though none was a clear favorite, and Holly simply wrote them all down with pride.
Finally twenty minutes into practice, Lauren Zizes wandered in. “Sorry, emergency A/V club meeting. What’s up?”
Puck perked up, much to Santana’s dislike. Apparently his stop at Zizestown was going to be an extended stay. The girl suggested something from Twisted Sister once she was brought up to speed.
It wasn’t until practice was dismissed that Santana realized none of the other candidates had shown up. Artie was muttering that Rajeesh had bailed on them to join Anthony Rashad’s garage band. Mercedes looks particularly melancholy at this development. Rachel was passive-aggressively muttering how Genevieve was obviously intimated by her superior talent and then apologized for scaring away so many recruits. Santana didn’t say anything about her recruit, until Brittany brought it up.
“What happened to your… friend? The pretty one who sang about Jesus stealing a car?” She seemed awfully shy.
“I don’t know. I’ll have to confront her about it. By the way, love the new look. Wanna give me some style tips?”
“Yeah!” Brittany beamed.
* * *
Santana came to school with Brittany that morning, both of them dressed in cat sweaters and skirts.
“I think this is the new trend,” Santana remarked, “I look so classy, which really reflects the fact my GPA just jumped above a 3.5. A pair of glasses and I might just have to join the Quiz Bowl team.”
“You’d look hot in glasses.”
“I look hot in everything. We should try dressing like nuns tomorrows.”
“Sexy nuns?”
“I don’t think it’s possible for us to be unsexy nuns.”
Artie rolled up. “Brittany,” he greeted brightly. “Santana,” he greeted darkly.
“Hey, Artie,” Santana greeted brightly, just to spite him, “Do you like our new look? Britts and I are just crazy about pussy cats.”
Artie’s eyes narrowed, but Brittany didn’t pick up on it, just looked down at her shirt. “How can you tell these are girl cats? And what are boy cats called?” Her mouth opened to speculate, but Artie cut her off.
“Tom cats.”
“That must be confusing, all being named Tom.”
“Can we talk about something else?” Artie asked.
“Nah,” Santana replied to Brittany, “They can just go by ‘Thomas’ or ‘Tommy’ or ‘Thomson.’ And then you know that plenty of them have funny names like ‘Macavity’ and ‘Rumpleteazer.’”
“Santana,” Brittany replied dismissively, “That was just a play. Those weren’t real cats. They were furries who mixed up their D.N.A.”
Artie rolled his eyes, “Brittany, babe…” Brittany tensed at the term of endearment. “…do you maybe want to have lunch together in the choir room? I’ve got something cool I want to show you.”
Brittany immediately turned to Santana, who kept her face neutral. Brittany turned back and with a visible lack of enthusiasm, replied, “Sure. I need to get some stuff out of my locker, but I’ll see you there.”
Santana turned to open her own locker. She had everything she needed in her backpack, but hoped to highlight the fact that their lockers were near each other. Artie got the message and rolled off.
“Sorry,” she muttered weakly.
Santana hid her sadness. “For what? It’s just lunch. It doesn’t mean you’re married to him.”
Before Brittany could stumble through expressing her feelings, Rachel walked up, dragging Quinn by the arm behind her. “Ladies, are these or are these not the same style?” She pointed to her own typical style and Quinn, who was also dressed in a skirt and animal sweater.
“Q’s totally rocking the kitty cat look. You seem to think the style is trout.”
“These are obviously betta fish, a colorful, elegant, and exotic breed, not unlike myself.”
“Fish are so last week,” Santana remarked.
On cue, Scott Cooper walked by and threw a Big Quench cup of murky water on Rachel. “It’s salmon time, baby!” he joked, thrusting out the decal on his hockey jersey.
“Wow, and I thought the football jerks were dumb,” Quinn replied.
Santana caught Brittany looking at her expectantly. “Oh, yeah, I’m the type of person who doesn’t let this stand, right?” She turned to Rachel, “Look, Brittany will get you cleaned up, right?” Brittany nodded. “Q, you and me are going to break into the cafeteria and steal a box or two of fish sticks. I think you know why.”
Quinn nodded as Brittany steered Rachel towards the restrooms.
As she watched the pair leave, she noticed Faith down the hallways, so she excused herself from Quinn and raced over to her locker. “You missed practice yesterday.”
“Hi, Santana. I’m not joining. Sorry.”
“Why not? Afraid your popularity going to plunge?”
“It’s not that. My folks won’t let me.”
“Why not?”
Faith sighed. “The real reason I was so late was that I got into an argument with my mom after she dropped my guitar off. She’s heard the rumors about how it got Kurt Hummel driven off.”
“She’s afraid you’ll get bullied?”
She acidly explained, “No, she’s afraid I’ll become one of those ‘deviants’ who got that ‘nice boy’ Dave Karofsky in trouble. Worse, she doesn’t like that ‘that lesbian’ is part of the club.” She resisted making eye contact with Santana.
“Oh.” Santana took a step back.
“Santana…”
“So, that’s it? You don’t approve of me or Kurt?”
“It’s not that. Frankly, I don’t know where I stand on the issue. You seem perfectly nice… basically. And I really don’t know Kurt that well, but I never heard anything negative about him except he was a little full of himself. Outside the ‘fag’ language.”
“Your family thinks that God considers us abominations?”
Faith’s fingers brushed a verse taped to her locker: John 3:16. “God loves everybody, and I believe that. But at the same time I’m told that He hates certain people, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to believe that, too. But I do believe the Bible is truth and ignoring certain passages because I don’t like them is a danger precedent. It’s just an issue I haven’t really reconciled my belief on.”
“That’s a lot of words to say ‘yes’.”
“It’s a lot of words to say I don’t want to hate you for who you are.”
“My parents drag me to mass exactly twice a year, once at midnight in the dead of Ohio winter and once at the crack of dawn on a Sunday when it’s still chilly. At one, I learn about a magical baby born in a barn under a supernova with cows and angels. At the other, I learn that that baby grows up to be a total badass who gets Himself nailed a piece of wood so that all the things I do don’t get me sent to Hell: the mean things… the dumbass things… the really awesome, beautiful things that a bunch of rednecks think are unnatural.”
“I’m sorry, Santana. It seems dumb to me, too. Glee looks like a fun club, even though I kind of disapprove of the songs you guys do at the pep rallies. But it’s not my decision; my parents won’t sign the release form that allows me to go to your competitions. And do you expect me to lie to them about why I stay after school three times a week? It’ll get back to them. They’re very nosy.”
“A kid’s gotta learn to stand up to their parents.”
Faith shrugged, “Someday maybe I’ll learn to overlook that passage in Leviticus. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to follow the Fifth Commandment.”
“‘Don’t kill people’?”
“‘Honor your mother and father.’ I think Catholics renumber them.”
“I think you don’t fully understand the Protestant Reformation.”
Faith chuckled to herself. “I don’t suppose you want to be my friend.”
“Ask me again when you’re not afraid of me turning you to the dark side.” Santana walked away. Faith watched her go, staring a little more intently than she thought ought to at Santana’s skirt.
: : :
Santana had enough of Brittany’s constant pouting. She held an intervention for her in the library during lunch. Technically, since she didn’t invite all of Brittany’s friends and family, it was more of a confrontation.
Now that they were alone in a secluded part of the library, she asked, “Brittany, do you know why I asked you here?”
“Not really. There’s only two reasons you ever invite me to the library. The first is to deface the yearbook. The second is… something we don’t do anymore.”
“Sweetie, it’s been a week since Artie asked you for a second chance. Do you want to be with him?”
Tears filled Brittany’s eyes. “I just… promised him after Valentine’s Day that I would really consider staying with him.”
“Sweetie, you gave it your all. Artie can’t fulfill all your needs.”
“You mean sexy things?”
“Is it sexy things?” Santana already knew the answer to that question.
Brittany nodded. “He’s so sweet and tender, but… it’s not enough.”
“Brittany, I know what I said before, but I can’t stand seeing you like this. You asked me why you couldn’t have us both, why things couldn’t be like they used to be, and I told you that it was because I couldn’t share. Sweetie, what I can’t do is have a little of you but not have it all. So, this is me admitting defeat. If you want me on the side, I’ll up for it. It’s up to you whether you tell Artie.”
“No, that wouldn’t be right.” Santana frowned, but Brittany had more to say. “I’m going to break up with him. For good.”
Santana’s heart leapt. This is going better than planned; I was just gonna seduce her. She let Brittany, who obviously had a lot of words backed up in her brain, continue.
“I love Artie. I really do. He’s so kind and so wonderful to me. He makes me feel wanted. But I’m not sure I want him anymore. Not the way I should if he’s my boyfriend. I’m not saying I just have ebonic feelings for him, but my girly feelings aren’t strong enough.” She struggled to hold something in, but failed, “I miss you and I love you and I’m not saying I love you better than, I’m just saying I love you…”
“Differently.”
Brittany nodded.
Santana was almost incapable of containing her excitement. No, seriously, this is everything. This could like be the moment where I’ve fixed everything. She like seconds away from her asking to be with me. Mission accomplished!
Santana continued the conversation's downward descent. “It’s going to be hard on Artie no matter what. He’s really attached to you. For a while, he’s going to be mad at you. But not forever. He and Tina may not exactly be good friends, but they’re civil and they’ve moved on. You guys will too. I don’t want you to worry about his feelings, though. Think about your own feelings.” She went in for the kill, placing her hand on top of Brittany’s. “You know you can come to me for anything. For everything. I’ll give you everything Artie gave you, and more if I can manage it.” Her hand started to snake up Brittany’s forearm.
Brittany pulled her arm away. “Thank you, Santana, but we can’t start dating.”
“Wait, what?” This conversation took a sharp turn in the wrong direction.
“This is a serious adult-ish relationship. I can’t just jump from boyfriend to girlfriend. I owe it to Artie. I need a little bit of time.”
Santana leaned her head back in frustration. “God, you’re so noble,” she said it like it was a dirty word. She calmly admitted, “I’ve been waiting for you for longer than you could imagine. What’s another week or two? We’re talking a week or two, right?”
It was Brittany’s turn to place her hand on Santana’s arm. “Very soon, Santana. I can’t just jump between your legs yet.”
Santana chuckled. “You mean into my arms?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I do plan on jumping between your legs, though.”
She said it so casually, Santana almost didn’t catch it. “Wait, what?” This conversation has too many twists and turns.
“I’m on the rebound,” Brittany explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Santana, haven’t you heard? Sex isn’t dating.”
Author’s Note: If lets_duet wasn’t up to her ass in prompts, I’d have her write a nice Brittany/Santana sexy-times snippet.
So, what are the odds that the same four ladies who Santana approached last week would all be talented singers (and Zizes) who all decide to try out? In the real word, infinitesimally small. On Glee, one hundred percent. But why create all these characters and not use them, i.e. have them join glee? Because there’s no need. Not everything works out on the show either. If I ever do a Season 3 AU, I’ll probably include some of these characters.
- Zira sang “Saving All My Love For You” by Whitney Houston, the same song Alexandra Burke auditioned for The X Factor with.
- Rajeesh, based on the cut character from the original pilot, who I would cast Anoop Desai for, sang Usher’s “Caught Up”, which one of the songs Desai sang for American Idol.
- Faith’s song was Carrie Underwood’s “Jesus Take the Wheel”; because it’s the most obvious popular country song with overt religious undertones.
- Genevieve sang “A Diva’s Lament (What Happened to My Part?)” from Spamalot, because Lauren Lopez only does independent musicals and it fits well into Genevieve’s meta-theater beliefs.
- Lauren Zizes performed Eurhymic’s “Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)”. I chose it because it fits Ashley Fink’s need for speak-singing and Zizes would sing the chorus ironically.
- I had Karofsky considering performing “The Reason” by Hoobastank for obvious reasons. He’s a (sympathetic) villain and I particularly despise Hoobastank’s name. The song’s not half-bad, though.
- I had Strando planning on singing “Never Gonna Give You Up” by Rick Astley, because Glee really ought to Rick-Roll the television audience at some point and Strando was meant to be a class clown character. Then again, I’ve heard the cast really want to do “Friday” by Rebecca Black, which is worse.
Chapter 17: In Vino Varietas