Spirit Exchange Fic! Been An Awful Good Girl, for kait_18
Holiday Wish Fulfilled for: kait_18
Title: Been An Awful Good Girl
Rating: PG-13 for typical high school potty mouths
Pairings/Characters: Santana, ensemble, mostly canon couples
Warnings: Up to 2.09
Word count: 4200+
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: Santana is a woman on a mission.
A/N: Been having major issues with handling ensemble pieces ever since Season 2 started, and trying to follow the canon of the show (keyword: try) but this was super fun to write. I tried to veer from the spoilers in the episode summary which seemed to follow a similar plot as the prompt I’ve chosen but I hope this is still to your liking, oh mystery prompter. Thanks to my sister for beta-ing at such short notice and to the Gleefics mods for their never-ending well of patience and understanding ♥
“Alright, Mistress of Darkness, time to talk.”
Tina blinked over the spoon of blueberry yogurt to find a disgruntled looking Santana Lopez staring her down.
Granted, Santana always looked like she was about two seconds away from releasing her inner Cholita but she was probably just stereotyping because she was annoyed now that she couldn't finish her breakfast before Glee practice started, and Rachel was totally going to get on her butt for eating dairy before singing, all because Santana was being her moody self.
So tartly, Tina replied. “Talk about what, exactly?”
It was around that time that Puck and Mike walked into the choir room but before the latter could approach his girlfriend, the Cheerio had fixed such a frightening stare on him that both boys actually took startled steps back. Because even real men knew not to mess with Santana Lopez when she had that look in her eyes.
(Mike just hoped Tina wouldn’t think of him as a wuss.)
“Don’t lie, Gothika. I know people.”
Tina narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest, somehow managing to match the Latina’s fearsome gaze despite the difference in height due to her sitting position and the fact that Santana kinda had a model’s stature… not that she noticed that kind of thing.
“That’s funny,” Tina retorted, eyes flashing. “So do I.”
Santana raised a finely arched eyebrow, not about to be one-upped by the former faux-stutterer.
“I meant actual people, Corpse Bride, not the forces of the undead.”
Still, Tina didn't miss a beat. She might've been super shy, and around that time last year, she would've run away long before Santana Lopez could approach her for a verbal beat down but by no means had she ever been a pushover. “If you don’t explain what you’re talking about, I’ll be forced to make you join them, Toothpick.”
There was utter silence in the room as both girls glared at each other. Mike was pretty sure he saw sparks in the space between them. The band members gave each other perplexed looks, because despite being privy to the rollercoaster of drama that the Glee Club provided, there was no telling what kind of action was going to go down at any given moment. And Puck was being his typical self, the delightful possibility of a girl fight taking place in front of his eyes being the front runner in his thoughts.
Finally, Santana exhaled and unlocked her arms, placing her hands on her hips in the classic Cheerios power pose.
“Did you tell Brittany there was no such thing as Santa Claus?”
“No.”
“Fine.”
And with that, Santana flounced to the other side of the room and took a seat, busying herself with a nail file she’d produced from who-knows-where. Tina had returned to hurriedly finishing her yogurt before Rachel could arrive and it was as if someone had taken a pin and deflated all the tension in the room with one quick prick.
“The hell? They didn’t even tear each other’s tops off,” Puck whispered harshly to Mike who replied by punching his friend on the arm.
Just then, the rest of their quaint little club entered the room with Mr. Schuester coming in last so as to usher them excitedly into their seats. After briefly giving a morose-looking Brittany a nod of acknowledgment, Santana's eyes flicked up to their director, sparing half a second to note the red and green folders in his hand and the gaudy reindeer tie slipped around his neck before snorting to herself.
She trained her attention back to her nail care because God knows just what constituted as exciting for Mr. Boy Band Reject, but she wouldn't be surprised if it involved caroling or old folks' home or-.
Christmas, he had written on the board.
“Come on, guys, where’s your holiday spirit!?” He exclaimed excitedly, as if the single word was supposed to have set off a chain reaction of over-exuberance about the upcoming holiday. Only Rachel looked mildly interested, and if she could have just gotten a word in edgewise, she'd have argued her discontent with the unabashed way Mr. Schuester was just ignoring the other cultural festivities that befell on that particular month, ie. Hanukkah, but one look from Mercedes had her shushing herself. For the time being.
So instead, Will Schuester had twelve faces staring up at him expectantly.
“No? Well, what about this? I have four words for you all…” he said, giving Finn a pointed look. The tall brunette wore his trademark goofy grin as he began a drum roll on his knee. “Secret Santa Song Exchange!”
-
So it turned out Mercedes was right all along. Sometime between the occasional need to roundhouse kick Berry’s nose to an acceptable size, and not gag every time The Restored Virgin formerly known as Quinn and her faithful, boy toy walked into the room, the Glee Club had become a family.
Santana hated it.
The fact that she felt responsible for a bunch of dweebs, all of whom she was pretty sure she wanted to knock out up until the end of last year, was seriously disturbing. Her insides were twisting with... stuff now.
Feelings, or whatever.
Santana looked down at the name on the slip she'd pulled out of the Santa hat before tearing the paper into little pieces and blowing the small pile into Jewfro's face as he walked by, wondering what the chances were of giving him a paper cut to the eye before she spotted her targets for the hour.
"Hey, Lovebirds."
She actually snickered when both boys turned to face her simultaneously. Appearing flustered, Sam made to scratch the back of his head while Finn looked around him to double-check for any couples passing by them that Santana might've been addressing.
There were none. Crap.
A group of Cheerios giggled at the scene.
"What do you want, Santana?" Smoking hot or not, Finn was still kinda upset. Not at her, just at things in general (aka breaking up with Rachel), but he couldn't help feeling resentful towards Santana.
At least, he thought that was the right term for what he was feeling?
"Chill, Finnocence. You should really be happy now that-." The twisty sensation happened in Santana's gut just then and she shook her head, ponytail bouncing as she turned to address Sam instead.
"Have either of you talked to Britt lately?"
"Uh, she asked me for help with her English homework after Glee but when I told her I used to be dyslexic so I wasn't the best person to ask, she gave me a crumpled recipe for something called the Sue Master Cleanse. And she told me to add sand to it," Sam recalled. A hand fell on his shoulder and Finn was suddenly looking at him very seriously.
"Dude, Miss P-I mean, Mrs. P, she's got pamphlets for that. If you ever need to talk, man," and Finn clasped Sam's shoulder harder, which caused the blond to yelp in slight pain.
Meanwhile, Santana wondered how many brain cells she was losing every second she spent with the two jocks.
"Look, put those DSL of yours to good use and just tell me if either of you told Britt that Santa's imaginary?"
“…Santa's not real?"
"Are you for real, Hudson?"
Finn frowned.
"No, I was kidding. But like, he’s got so many houses to visit and malls to pose at that he had to hire some look-a-likes but the real deal is hanging at his workshop somewhere in the North Pole… what, no?" The brunette turned to Sam who shook his head slowly. When they both turned back to face Santana, she'd already stalked off.
"Dude, really though, I thought you were good after the Rocky Horror show?"
"Finn, I don't have body issues! It's a peech simpedi-dammit!"
-
"Sup Wheels."
Artie's hands flew to his breaks and he let out a muffled noise, soundless compared to the hit of two sneakers skidding against the linoleum floor. Afterward, it was only his erratic breathing that echoed throughout the empty hallway. Santana had literally snuck up on him, her lithe form dropping in from… wait, where had she come from?
"How did you-?"
"Coach makes us play Capture The Flag at night using specialized military-grade equipment while hounding us out with a tranquilizer gun. Last woman standing wins an actual breakfast the next day so you have to get creative if you want them hotcakes. Getting around the school undetected is just another perk of being able-bodied and having above-average athleticism."
Artie scowled and was about to retort with annoyance that skulking around after school wasn’t really adding to the general consensus that she was an alien breed, preying on weak students to suck out their life force but before he could open his mouth, there was a finger hovering over his nose.
"No. Don't say anything. I don't know what happens but every time we perform in Glee Club, all I remember is having a good time and breaking out my Tina Turner dance moves. If you've been slipping things into my water bottle to make me willingly participate in your merry little song and dance shenanigans, and I find out?"
She slid a finger against her throat. Artie subconsciously reached protectively to cover his own.
“And I know you know your science shit, obviously you’d be the first suspect. Anyway, I'm going to make this super simple. You break B's heart, I'll break your face with your own chair."
He's not sure what happens after that, all he remembers is blacking out and waking up in the boys locker room with a Sharpie mustache. He also recalls a faint voice going on about Santa Claus being real, echoing in his head.
For the record, he didn't faint because of Santana. He fainted because he was… tired. Yeah.
-
"Hello, Santana."
The cheerleader in question slouched further into her seat though she continued to scribble out a certain young ingenue's face from last year's yearbook without a pause. Rachel pretended not to notice the new uni-brow she was sporting for the Fruit Sculpting Club photo.
"I'm glad I caught you before your next period. We have a dilemma, and I'm not just talking about our personal issues with each other which involve a certain quarterback and events that have caused such a cataclysmic effect on my life that for a period of time, I considered boarding a bus to the Big Apple and foregoing a proper education. But then I thought about how much stress I'd cause my dads and the fact that I'd lose all my perfect attendance awards to Tina so I reconsidered."
Santana nonchalantly flipped to another page of the annual and continued her defacing without so much as a nod towards Rachel who'd despondently waited for a response before foraging on.
"As one of the leaders of Glee Club, though I'm sure I can argue as being the only one," she muttered to herself before looking up for a derisive snort which she then chose to ignore. "I feel responsible for ensuring we all make an effort in furthering our talents and our confidences not only as a team but individually. "
"Okay, seriously? Do you have an off button, Short Stack?"
"And despite all our differences," Rachel pressed on, "I still care that your voice is expressed, not only in Glee but because of the sensitive matter which I'm about to bring up, as it's especially personal to my own, and my family's, values.
"Santana, I've come to believe the reason that the you're such a bully, take that as you will, is because you have repressed emotions and you've found the perfect, albeit destructive, outlet in using your claws to tear others down. Metaphorically speaking," Rachel added, spotting the nail file sitting by Santana's elbow and hoping she'd already finished using them.
"I understand you may be in denial at the moment, but your actions really do speak louder than words, what with you're request for my services at the beginning of the week, and the real reason you're behaving in such a manner, moreso now than ever is because-,"
And of course, Rachel had to pause for dramatic effect.
"-I think you're in love with Brittany."
"Okay, that's it," Santana said, slamming the yearbook shut and pointing an accusing finger at the petite brunette's nose. "You were the one who told her about the Santa thing, weren't you?"
"W-what? No. But see though? You're changing the subject which is a clear avoidance tactic and exactly what I thought might happen and not only because of I'm kinda psychic, and this came to me in a vision but I was talking to my two gay dads-,"
"Okay, Puck is always going on about 'seeing things' so I'm just gonna go ahead and say it: you Jews need to stop eating the kosher crap."
With those final words, Santana stormed past a bewildered Rachel and the ancient librarian (who'd been looking to shush them since the little loud mouth girl had walked in).
"…She didn't even make fun of my nose this time," Rachel whispered to herself, because she wouldn't be Rachel Berry if she didn't find some sort of silver lining.
-
Mercedes and Quinn had her cornered, and at her weakest too. She was re-applying her make-up and she couldn't just leave with an unfinished face, okay? She was flawless and totally smokin' and that's the way it was gonna stay.
"Rachel tattled," Mercedes started while Quinn stood beside her, rolling her eyes up at the ceiling.
"What? I just told her to take a boat back to old country," Santana sneered, swiping another coat of mascara over her already thick and full (fake) lashes.
"Look, you've been harassing everyone in Glee Club about the Brittany thing. My boyfriend can't think of a song he wants to sing me because-,"
"Wait, how do you know Sam got you?"
"Because I made him trade with Mike who wanted Tina so he traded with Finn but I guess Finn wanted Rachel or whatever so he was looking for Artie and Artie wanted B, naturally," but Quinn stopped when Santana's scowl deepened and Mercedes made the 'cease and desist' motion with her hands. "Anyway, you've scared everyone out of the Christmas spirit. Good job."
Santana groaned and rolled her eyes. "Ugh, enough already. I only did it because some idiot totally blew Christmas for Britt by telling her that Santa isn't real."
Mercedes froze, a deer-in-headlights expression on her face but Santana hadn't yet noticed.
"Like, I even sacrificed my dignity and had Berry stick it in that stupid Glee Club memo thing she makes every week. It's totally a big deal for Britt."
Quinn's perfect eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "That doesn't make any sense. Firstly, you know we don't read those because we use them as nesting for Coach's pet hamster-she's training it to spy on the club-" Quinn explained with yet another eye roll, as an aside to Mercedes, "-and secondly, how do you know Britt wouldn't read it?"
"Britt can't read cursive. And it's not like I could just go announcing-,"
"Uh, Quinn, we have to go now."
"What?"
"Problem?" Santana's eyes narrowed as she waited for her sometimes-nemesis, sometimes-soul sister to respond because she was so sending out sneaky vibes at the moment.
"Um, Santana, is that hair over your lip?"
"What!?"
Mercedes made a run for it, dragging an unwilling Quinn behind her.
-
So Santana was totally onto Mercedes but she'd inadvertently found herself tailing Puck as he headed back from practice.
And his guns were such a turn-on but she was totally mad at him about the Lauren chick. Ahem.
“God, Puckerman, have you been wearing my panties again?”
Puck looked affronted. He was about to object by pulling off the towel he held in place around his waist to prove just how much he wasn’t wearing but Santana continued her tirade.
“I didn’t know you were Schuester’s new pet. I mean, you really went out of your way this time. And not a casualty in sight, except for your sorry self which was, by the way, so not hot. But for real, do wou get a special badge fow being such a good boy?”
She was pretty sure Puck flinched when she switched to the baby voice.
“I was doing a favor for the club, alright? They’ve got my back, and I kinda feel bad for being such an asshole before.”
Santana arched an eyebrow at him but he’d gained his bearings by then and he scoffed instead.
“As if, Lopez, don’t even act like you’re not affected by their voodoo powers of niceness.”
“You mean voodoo powers of manipulation.”
“Whatever, it’s totally working on me. Look, it’s not that I’m not a badass anymore but I’ve been trying it out and it’s kinda working in my favor. I think they’re onto something.“
He was met with a look of complete disbelief. “God, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
“Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head as if to rid her memory of the last two minutes they’d exchanged, “did you tell B that Santa wasn’t real?”
Puck began to shake his head 'no' and a slow smile had crept upon his lips because, sure he was kind of a delinquent sometimes but he wasn't (that) stupid, but before he could tease Santana further, he was interrupted by a hard slam against the boys’ change room door and The Beiste’s voice roaring at them from the other side.
“You have point-three seconds to get decent before I string your hides like a possum after Sunday brunch.”
“And other than the fact that that makes no sense-fine, leaving. We weren’t even doing it this time,” Santana huffed with a roll of the eyes as she sauntered into the gym for Cheerios practice, leaving Puck to deal with one very angry football coach.
-
"Hummel? Why are you-?"
"Shh, it's okay. It doesn't matter that I'm sacrificing my fashion reputation, not to mention my sanity, to possibly be spotter here, but the concern is touching. I didn't think you had it in you to care."
Santana scoffed. "I don't. I was just gonna ask how the hell you're wearing sunglasses, a hat and a parka inside of a Ross without getting arrested."
Kurt glared over the rims of his shades with an unamused look etched on his features. After a brief staredown, he whipped off his sunglasses and sighed dramatically.
"I have something to confess. That's why I asked you to meet me here."
The Cheerio stopped sorting through the racks of hideous maternity dresses and fixed her stare on the latest Warbler. She was like a lioness on the prowl.
Kurt faltered. "I-I've chosen this place for the very purpose that when I reveal my secret, you'll have to reconsider using my face as a Swiffer. I'm sure you wouldn't want to traumatize all the little old ladies and baby mamas."
"Would you just get on with it, Boy Wonder?"
"Right. Well, Mercedes and I took Brittany shopping last weekend, y'know, making fun of all the ugly dressers, doing some Christmas shopping. And before I continue, I'm going to have to ask you to put down the clothes hanger. Thank you.
"As I was saying, we were having ourselves a-."
"-Gay?"
"Fun, old time and as we were passing Santa's Workshop, I…I might've revealed to Brittany that Jolly Ol' Saint Nick isn't real."
The Latina's eyes jaws locked.
"Santana, peace! Truce! Look," he said, waving a white handkerchief in the air. "I didn't realize what a sensitive topic it was until almost everyone flooded my inbox with tales of your terrifying, if not touching acts of terror. Mercedes and Tina are my first drafts into Dalton should a bloodbath occur."
"Assuming you survived today?"
"Yes, assuming that. Meep."
-
She’d snuck into Brittany’s room through the window, unable to help the slightly guilty feeling that swept over her from their last exchange on Brittany's bed (haunted by the ghosts of their sweet lady kisses… and she's officially watched too many telenovelas with her mom).
"It was Kurt," said a voice, which caused Santana to curse into her scarf as she smacked her head against the sill.
“And I’m not mad at him. But I’m glad you were being so nice about it. Sam and Mike told me you were trying to find out who ruined my Christmas.”
Brittany was sitting in ridiculous Woodstock pyjamas, a small envelope in her hand and a dazed expression on her face. Which wasn't totally off from standard Brittany fare save the fact that her lips were turned down in the slightest of frowns.
“Which was really nice because I thought you were mad at me,” Brittany stated, curling herself into a ball by the foot of her bed. "You stopped coming to my window, and crawling inside, waiting by the light of the-."
"B, you totally ditched me for what's-his-face."
"But you used to leave me for Puck, like, all the time."
"But it doesn't mean anything.” Santana replied, loud enough to startle Brittany to silence. She was jarred by the snappiness in her own voice, and so many feelings and thoughts in her head and Santana gave a frustrated sigh before taking a seat on the edge of Brittany’s bed, swiping a cookie as her butt hit the mattress.
(Sorry, Santa but Miss Lopez needs ta gets her chocolate chip on.)
After stewing on the crumbly snack for a few seconds, Santana took a swig of the milk and finally exhaled with some relief. The whole time, she could make out Brittany in her peripheral fighting to speak out, probably against her eating the snacks meant for the fat man, if the name card was anything to go by.
But she was finally calm and her voice had lost its edginess when she spoke again.
“Look, I’m not mad, Britt. That’s kinda like being mad at a puppy.”
“A really stupid puppy?”
The corners of Santana’s lips tightened into a fond smirk.
“No way. You’re totally cool, Britt.”
The two friends grinned at each other but a few second later, Santana found her cheeks flushed with heat. She reached into her bag and after a moment, pulled out a teddy bear clad in full Santa regalia. Brittany’s eyes widened and she impatiently reached for the toy, hugging it close.
“Oh my gosh, my very own Santa.”
“Yeah, well, now you have your own so you can tell other people to frick off about him, okay?” She held a pinky out towards the blonde who linked it with hers without question. Her heart swelled and her insides turned to mush but she was pretty sure that was just all the burgers and ice cream she'd ingested in the last week. Holiday stress or whatever. “I know you’re dating Artie but you’re still my girl, right, B?”
Santana pretended not to notice the shimmer in Brittany’s eyes.
"Always,” the blonde replied warmly before tugging on her friend's wrist and pulling her into a tight hug. Santana squeezed back, resting her head on the taller blonde's shoulder.
“I got you something too, San. Here," she said, pushing the envelope towards Santana, who gingerly took it in her hands and began to tear it open, encourage by Brittany's grin. "It was supposed to be for Santa because my little sister said I needed to stop drawing him sombreros. I already have, like, three."
Brittany paused and waited for Santana's reaction as a picture of the two of them taken some time last year, faces pressed against each others as they proudly held up shiny new 'Best Friends' charms, slipped out of the envelope.
This time, it was Brittany who caught a pair of shiny eyes as she met her best friend's gaze.
“Merry Christmas.”
Santana practically tackled Brittany to the bed with a crushing hug, and then just as fast, she pulled herself back before turning sharply for the window.
"I have to go, cousins are coming down soon for our Noche Buena. You can totes come over and pig out with me if you're not busy with your boy toy. God, I'm getting a freakin' cold or something."
The words were tossed casually over her shoulder and with that, Santana had slipped back into the night.
Alone in her room, Brittany glanced sideways at the empty platter and the half-drunk glass of milk on her bedside table. Then, a slow smile formed on her lips and she crawled back into bed, hugging Santana’s present tight
"Thank you, Santa."
Epilogue
Mr. Schuester stared at his Glee club with a dumbfounded look on his face.
"How is it possible that Rachel is the only person who prepared a song for today's exchange?"
"Oh, it's alright, Mr. Schuester. I've prepared twelve songs for each one of my fellow Glee clubbers."
"You're singing one to yourself?"
Rachel grinned sheepishly.
-
Prompter #38
1. Brittany/Santana: Someone from Glee tells Britt Santa isn't real and Santana coaxes the entire club into making her believe.
3. Ensemble: Mr. Schue assigns the kids a secret Santa song exchange.
Things you DON'T want in your story: Smut. I just want some pure, fluffy, candy cane sweetness. I prefer canon pairings.
Title: Been An Awful Good Girl
Rating: PG-13 for typical high school potty mouths
Pairings/Characters: Santana, ensemble, mostly canon couples
Warnings: Up to 2.09
Word count: 4200+
Disclaimer: This Glee fanfiction is based upon the television show of the same name. All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of Ryan Murphy Productions and 20th Century Fox Television.
Summary: Santana is a woman on a mission.
A/N: Been having major issues with handling ensemble pieces ever since Season 2 started, and trying to follow the canon of the show (keyword: try) but this was super fun to write. I tried to veer from the spoilers in the episode summary which seemed to follow a similar plot as the prompt I’ve chosen but I hope this is still to your liking, oh mystery prompter. Thanks to my sister for beta-ing at such short notice and to the Gleefics mods for their never-ending well of patience and understanding ♥
“Alright, Mistress of Darkness, time to talk.”
Tina blinked over the spoon of blueberry yogurt to find a disgruntled looking Santana Lopez staring her down.
Granted, Santana always looked like she was about two seconds away from releasing her inner Cholita but she was probably just stereotyping because she was annoyed now that she couldn't finish her breakfast before Glee practice started, and Rachel was totally going to get on her butt for eating dairy before singing, all because Santana was being her moody self.
So tartly, Tina replied. “Talk about what, exactly?”
It was around that time that Puck and Mike walked into the choir room but before the latter could approach his girlfriend, the Cheerio had fixed such a frightening stare on him that both boys actually took startled steps back. Because even real men knew not to mess with Santana Lopez when she had that look in her eyes.
(Mike just hoped Tina wouldn’t think of him as a wuss.)
“Don’t lie, Gothika. I know people.”
Tina narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest, somehow managing to match the Latina’s fearsome gaze despite the difference in height due to her sitting position and the fact that Santana kinda had a model’s stature… not that she noticed that kind of thing.
“That’s funny,” Tina retorted, eyes flashing. “So do I.”
Santana raised a finely arched eyebrow, not about to be one-upped by the former faux-stutterer.
“I meant actual people, Corpse Bride, not the forces of the undead.”
Still, Tina didn't miss a beat. She might've been super shy, and around that time last year, she would've run away long before Santana Lopez could approach her for a verbal beat down but by no means had she ever been a pushover. “If you don’t explain what you’re talking about, I’ll be forced to make you join them, Toothpick.”
There was utter silence in the room as both girls glared at each other. Mike was pretty sure he saw sparks in the space between them. The band members gave each other perplexed looks, because despite being privy to the rollercoaster of drama that the Glee Club provided, there was no telling what kind of action was going to go down at any given moment. And Puck was being his typical self, the delightful possibility of a girl fight taking place in front of his eyes being the front runner in his thoughts.
Finally, Santana exhaled and unlocked her arms, placing her hands on her hips in the classic Cheerios power pose.
“Did you tell Brittany there was no such thing as Santa Claus?”
“No.”
“Fine.”
And with that, Santana flounced to the other side of the room and took a seat, busying herself with a nail file she’d produced from who-knows-where. Tina had returned to hurriedly finishing her yogurt before Rachel could arrive and it was as if someone had taken a pin and deflated all the tension in the room with one quick prick.
“The hell? They didn’t even tear each other’s tops off,” Puck whispered harshly to Mike who replied by punching his friend on the arm.
Just then, the rest of their quaint little club entered the room with Mr. Schuester coming in last so as to usher them excitedly into their seats. After briefly giving a morose-looking Brittany a nod of acknowledgment, Santana's eyes flicked up to their director, sparing half a second to note the red and green folders in his hand and the gaudy reindeer tie slipped around his neck before snorting to herself.
She trained her attention back to her nail care because God knows just what constituted as exciting for Mr. Boy Band Reject, but she wouldn't be surprised if it involved caroling or old folks' home or-.
Christmas, he had written on the board.
“Come on, guys, where’s your holiday spirit!?” He exclaimed excitedly, as if the single word was supposed to have set off a chain reaction of over-exuberance about the upcoming holiday. Only Rachel looked mildly interested, and if she could have just gotten a word in edgewise, she'd have argued her discontent with the unabashed way Mr. Schuester was just ignoring the other cultural festivities that befell on that particular month, ie. Hanukkah, but one look from Mercedes had her shushing herself. For the time being.
So instead, Will Schuester had twelve faces staring up at him expectantly.
“No? Well, what about this? I have four words for you all…” he said, giving Finn a pointed look. The tall brunette wore his trademark goofy grin as he began a drum roll on his knee. “Secret Santa Song Exchange!”
-
So it turned out Mercedes was right all along. Sometime between the occasional need to roundhouse kick Berry’s nose to an acceptable size, and not gag every time The Restored Virgin formerly known as Quinn and her faithful, boy toy walked into the room, the Glee Club had become a family.
Santana hated it.
The fact that she felt responsible for a bunch of dweebs, all of whom she was pretty sure she wanted to knock out up until the end of last year, was seriously disturbing. Her insides were twisting with... stuff now.
Feelings, or whatever.
Santana looked down at the name on the slip she'd pulled out of the Santa hat before tearing the paper into little pieces and blowing the small pile into Jewfro's face as he walked by, wondering what the chances were of giving him a paper cut to the eye before she spotted her targets for the hour.
"Hey, Lovebirds."
She actually snickered when both boys turned to face her simultaneously. Appearing flustered, Sam made to scratch the back of his head while Finn looked around him to double-check for any couples passing by them that Santana might've been addressing.
There were none. Crap.
A group of Cheerios giggled at the scene.
"What do you want, Santana?" Smoking hot or not, Finn was still kinda upset. Not at her, just at things in general (aka breaking up with Rachel), but he couldn't help feeling resentful towards Santana.
At least, he thought that was the right term for what he was feeling?
"Chill, Finnocence. You should really be happy now that-." The twisty sensation happened in Santana's gut just then and she shook her head, ponytail bouncing as she turned to address Sam instead.
"Have either of you talked to Britt lately?"
"Uh, she asked me for help with her English homework after Glee but when I told her I used to be dyslexic so I wasn't the best person to ask, she gave me a crumpled recipe for something called the Sue Master Cleanse. And she told me to add sand to it," Sam recalled. A hand fell on his shoulder and Finn was suddenly looking at him very seriously.
"Dude, Miss P-I mean, Mrs. P, she's got pamphlets for that. If you ever need to talk, man," and Finn clasped Sam's shoulder harder, which caused the blond to yelp in slight pain.
Meanwhile, Santana wondered how many brain cells she was losing every second she spent with the two jocks.
"Look, put those DSL of yours to good use and just tell me if either of you told Britt that Santa's imaginary?"
“…Santa's not real?"
"Are you for real, Hudson?"
Finn frowned.
"No, I was kidding. But like, he’s got so many houses to visit and malls to pose at that he had to hire some look-a-likes but the real deal is hanging at his workshop somewhere in the North Pole… what, no?" The brunette turned to Sam who shook his head slowly. When they both turned back to face Santana, she'd already stalked off.
"Dude, really though, I thought you were good after the Rocky Horror show?"
"Finn, I don't have body issues! It's a peech simpedi-dammit!"
-
"Sup Wheels."
Artie's hands flew to his breaks and he let out a muffled noise, soundless compared to the hit of two sneakers skidding against the linoleum floor. Afterward, it was only his erratic breathing that echoed throughout the empty hallway. Santana had literally snuck up on him, her lithe form dropping in from… wait, where had she come from?
"How did you-?"
"Coach makes us play Capture The Flag at night using specialized military-grade equipment while hounding us out with a tranquilizer gun. Last woman standing wins an actual breakfast the next day so you have to get creative if you want them hotcakes. Getting around the school undetected is just another perk of being able-bodied and having above-average athleticism."
Artie scowled and was about to retort with annoyance that skulking around after school wasn’t really adding to the general consensus that she was an alien breed, preying on weak students to suck out their life force but before he could open his mouth, there was a finger hovering over his nose.
"No. Don't say anything. I don't know what happens but every time we perform in Glee Club, all I remember is having a good time and breaking out my Tina Turner dance moves. If you've been slipping things into my water bottle to make me willingly participate in your merry little song and dance shenanigans, and I find out?"
She slid a finger against her throat. Artie subconsciously reached protectively to cover his own.
“And I know you know your science shit, obviously you’d be the first suspect. Anyway, I'm going to make this super simple. You break B's heart, I'll break your face with your own chair."
He's not sure what happens after that, all he remembers is blacking out and waking up in the boys locker room with a Sharpie mustache. He also recalls a faint voice going on about Santa Claus being real, echoing in his head.
For the record, he didn't faint because of Santana. He fainted because he was… tired. Yeah.
-
"Hello, Santana."
The cheerleader in question slouched further into her seat though she continued to scribble out a certain young ingenue's face from last year's yearbook without a pause. Rachel pretended not to notice the new uni-brow she was sporting for the Fruit Sculpting Club photo.
"I'm glad I caught you before your next period. We have a dilemma, and I'm not just talking about our personal issues with each other which involve a certain quarterback and events that have caused such a cataclysmic effect on my life that for a period of time, I considered boarding a bus to the Big Apple and foregoing a proper education. But then I thought about how much stress I'd cause my dads and the fact that I'd lose all my perfect attendance awards to Tina so I reconsidered."
Santana nonchalantly flipped to another page of the annual and continued her defacing without so much as a nod towards Rachel who'd despondently waited for a response before foraging on.
"As one of the leaders of Glee Club, though I'm sure I can argue as being the only one," she muttered to herself before looking up for a derisive snort which she then chose to ignore. "I feel responsible for ensuring we all make an effort in furthering our talents and our confidences not only as a team but individually. "
"Okay, seriously? Do you have an off button, Short Stack?"
"And despite all our differences," Rachel pressed on, "I still care that your voice is expressed, not only in Glee but because of the sensitive matter which I'm about to bring up, as it's especially personal to my own, and my family's, values.
"Santana, I've come to believe the reason that the you're such a bully, take that as you will, is because you have repressed emotions and you've found the perfect, albeit destructive, outlet in using your claws to tear others down. Metaphorically speaking," Rachel added, spotting the nail file sitting by Santana's elbow and hoping she'd already finished using them.
"I understand you may be in denial at the moment, but your actions really do speak louder than words, what with you're request for my services at the beginning of the week, and the real reason you're behaving in such a manner, moreso now than ever is because-,"
And of course, Rachel had to pause for dramatic effect.
"-I think you're in love with Brittany."
"Okay, that's it," Santana said, slamming the yearbook shut and pointing an accusing finger at the petite brunette's nose. "You were the one who told her about the Santa thing, weren't you?"
"W-what? No. But see though? You're changing the subject which is a clear avoidance tactic and exactly what I thought might happen and not only because of I'm kinda psychic, and this came to me in a vision but I was talking to my two gay dads-,"
"Okay, Puck is always going on about 'seeing things' so I'm just gonna go ahead and say it: you Jews need to stop eating the kosher crap."
With those final words, Santana stormed past a bewildered Rachel and the ancient librarian (who'd been looking to shush them since the little loud mouth girl had walked in).
"…She didn't even make fun of my nose this time," Rachel whispered to herself, because she wouldn't be Rachel Berry if she didn't find some sort of silver lining.
-
Mercedes and Quinn had her cornered, and at her weakest too. She was re-applying her make-up and she couldn't just leave with an unfinished face, okay? She was flawless and totally smokin' and that's the way it was gonna stay.
"Rachel tattled," Mercedes started while Quinn stood beside her, rolling her eyes up at the ceiling.
"What? I just told her to take a boat back to old country," Santana sneered, swiping another coat of mascara over her already thick and full (fake) lashes.
"Look, you've been harassing everyone in Glee Club about the Brittany thing. My boyfriend can't think of a song he wants to sing me because-,"
"Wait, how do you know Sam got you?"
"Because I made him trade with Mike who wanted Tina so he traded with Finn but I guess Finn wanted Rachel or whatever so he was looking for Artie and Artie wanted B, naturally," but Quinn stopped when Santana's scowl deepened and Mercedes made the 'cease and desist' motion with her hands. "Anyway, you've scared everyone out of the Christmas spirit. Good job."
Santana groaned and rolled her eyes. "Ugh, enough already. I only did it because some idiot totally blew Christmas for Britt by telling her that Santa isn't real."
Mercedes froze, a deer-in-headlights expression on her face but Santana hadn't yet noticed.
"Like, I even sacrificed my dignity and had Berry stick it in that stupid Glee Club memo thing she makes every week. It's totally a big deal for Britt."
Quinn's perfect eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "That doesn't make any sense. Firstly, you know we don't read those because we use them as nesting for Coach's pet hamster-she's training it to spy on the club-" Quinn explained with yet another eye roll, as an aside to Mercedes, "-and secondly, how do you know Britt wouldn't read it?"
"Britt can't read cursive. And it's not like I could just go announcing-,"
"Uh, Quinn, we have to go now."
"What?"
"Problem?" Santana's eyes narrowed as she waited for her sometimes-nemesis, sometimes-soul sister to respond because she was so sending out sneaky vibes at the moment.
"Um, Santana, is that hair over your lip?"
"What!?"
Mercedes made a run for it, dragging an unwilling Quinn behind her.
-
So Santana was totally onto Mercedes but she'd inadvertently found herself tailing Puck as he headed back from practice.
And his guns were such a turn-on but she was totally mad at him about the Lauren chick. Ahem.
“God, Puckerman, have you been wearing my panties again?”
Puck looked affronted. He was about to object by pulling off the towel he held in place around his waist to prove just how much he wasn’t wearing but Santana continued her tirade.
“I didn’t know you were Schuester’s new pet. I mean, you really went out of your way this time. And not a casualty in sight, except for your sorry self which was, by the way, so not hot. But for real, do wou get a special badge fow being such a good boy?”
She was pretty sure Puck flinched when she switched to the baby voice.
“I was doing a favor for the club, alright? They’ve got my back, and I kinda feel bad for being such an asshole before.”
Santana arched an eyebrow at him but he’d gained his bearings by then and he scoffed instead.
“As if, Lopez, don’t even act like you’re not affected by their voodoo powers of niceness.”
“You mean voodoo powers of manipulation.”
“Whatever, it’s totally working on me. Look, it’s not that I’m not a badass anymore but I’ve been trying it out and it’s kinda working in my favor. I think they’re onto something.“
He was met with a look of complete disbelief. “God, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
“Anyway,” she continued, shaking her head as if to rid her memory of the last two minutes they’d exchanged, “did you tell B that Santa wasn’t real?”
Puck began to shake his head 'no' and a slow smile had crept upon his lips because, sure he was kind of a delinquent sometimes but he wasn't (that) stupid, but before he could tease Santana further, he was interrupted by a hard slam against the boys’ change room door and The Beiste’s voice roaring at them from the other side.
“You have point-three seconds to get decent before I string your hides like a possum after Sunday brunch.”
“And other than the fact that that makes no sense-fine, leaving. We weren’t even doing it this time,” Santana huffed with a roll of the eyes as she sauntered into the gym for Cheerios practice, leaving Puck to deal with one very angry football coach.
-
"Hummel? Why are you-?"
"Shh, it's okay. It doesn't matter that I'm sacrificing my fashion reputation, not to mention my sanity, to possibly be spotter here, but the concern is touching. I didn't think you had it in you to care."
Santana scoffed. "I don't. I was just gonna ask how the hell you're wearing sunglasses, a hat and a parka inside of a Ross without getting arrested."
Kurt glared over the rims of his shades with an unamused look etched on his features. After a brief staredown, he whipped off his sunglasses and sighed dramatically.
"I have something to confess. That's why I asked you to meet me here."
The Cheerio stopped sorting through the racks of hideous maternity dresses and fixed her stare on the latest Warbler. She was like a lioness on the prowl.
Kurt faltered. "I-I've chosen this place for the very purpose that when I reveal my secret, you'll have to reconsider using my face as a Swiffer. I'm sure you wouldn't want to traumatize all the little old ladies and baby mamas."
"Would you just get on with it, Boy Wonder?"
"Right. Well, Mercedes and I took Brittany shopping last weekend, y'know, making fun of all the ugly dressers, doing some Christmas shopping. And before I continue, I'm going to have to ask you to put down the clothes hanger. Thank you.
"As I was saying, we were having ourselves a-."
"-Gay?"
"Fun, old time and as we were passing Santa's Workshop, I…I might've revealed to Brittany that Jolly Ol' Saint Nick isn't real."
The Latina's eyes jaws locked.
"Santana, peace! Truce! Look," he said, waving a white handkerchief in the air. "I didn't realize what a sensitive topic it was until almost everyone flooded my inbox with tales of your terrifying, if not touching acts of terror. Mercedes and Tina are my first drafts into Dalton should a bloodbath occur."
"Assuming you survived today?"
"Yes, assuming that. Meep."
-
She’d snuck into Brittany’s room through the window, unable to help the slightly guilty feeling that swept over her from their last exchange on Brittany's bed (haunted by the ghosts of their sweet lady kisses… and she's officially watched too many telenovelas with her mom).
"It was Kurt," said a voice, which caused Santana to curse into her scarf as she smacked her head against the sill.
“And I’m not mad at him. But I’m glad you were being so nice about it. Sam and Mike told me you were trying to find out who ruined my Christmas.”
Brittany was sitting in ridiculous Woodstock pyjamas, a small envelope in her hand and a dazed expression on her face. Which wasn't totally off from standard Brittany fare save the fact that her lips were turned down in the slightest of frowns.
“Which was really nice because I thought you were mad at me,” Brittany stated, curling herself into a ball by the foot of her bed. "You stopped coming to my window, and crawling inside, waiting by the light of the-."
"B, you totally ditched me for what's-his-face."
"But you used to leave me for Puck, like, all the time."
"But it doesn't mean anything.” Santana replied, loud enough to startle Brittany to silence. She was jarred by the snappiness in her own voice, and so many feelings and thoughts in her head and Santana gave a frustrated sigh before taking a seat on the edge of Brittany’s bed, swiping a cookie as her butt hit the mattress.
(Sorry, Santa but Miss Lopez needs ta gets her chocolate chip on.)
After stewing on the crumbly snack for a few seconds, Santana took a swig of the milk and finally exhaled with some relief. The whole time, she could make out Brittany in her peripheral fighting to speak out, probably against her eating the snacks meant for the fat man, if the name card was anything to go by.
But she was finally calm and her voice had lost its edginess when she spoke again.
“Look, I’m not mad, Britt. That’s kinda like being mad at a puppy.”
“A really stupid puppy?”
The corners of Santana’s lips tightened into a fond smirk.
“No way. You’re totally cool, Britt.”
The two friends grinned at each other but a few second later, Santana found her cheeks flushed with heat. She reached into her bag and after a moment, pulled out a teddy bear clad in full Santa regalia. Brittany’s eyes widened and she impatiently reached for the toy, hugging it close.
“Oh my gosh, my very own Santa.”
“Yeah, well, now you have your own so you can tell other people to frick off about him, okay?” She held a pinky out towards the blonde who linked it with hers without question. Her heart swelled and her insides turned to mush but she was pretty sure that was just all the burgers and ice cream she'd ingested in the last week. Holiday stress or whatever. “I know you’re dating Artie but you’re still my girl, right, B?”
Santana pretended not to notice the shimmer in Brittany’s eyes.
"Always,” the blonde replied warmly before tugging on her friend's wrist and pulling her into a tight hug. Santana squeezed back, resting her head on the taller blonde's shoulder.
“I got you something too, San. Here," she said, pushing the envelope towards Santana, who gingerly took it in her hands and began to tear it open, encourage by Brittany's grin. "It was supposed to be for Santa because my little sister said I needed to stop drawing him sombreros. I already have, like, three."
Brittany paused and waited for Santana's reaction as a picture of the two of them taken some time last year, faces pressed against each others as they proudly held up shiny new 'Best Friends' charms, slipped out of the envelope.
This time, it was Brittany who caught a pair of shiny eyes as she met her best friend's gaze.
“Merry Christmas.”
Santana practically tackled Brittany to the bed with a crushing hug, and then just as fast, she pulled herself back before turning sharply for the window.
"I have to go, cousins are coming down soon for our Noche Buena. You can totes come over and pig out with me if you're not busy with your boy toy. God, I'm getting a freakin' cold or something."
The words were tossed casually over her shoulder and with that, Santana had slipped back into the night.
Alone in her room, Brittany glanced sideways at the empty platter and the half-drunk glass of milk on her bedside table. Then, a slow smile formed on her lips and she crawled back into bed, hugging Santana’s present tight
"Thank you, Santa."
Epilogue
Mr. Schuester stared at his Glee club with a dumbfounded look on his face.
"How is it possible that Rachel is the only person who prepared a song for today's exchange?"
"Oh, it's alright, Mr. Schuester. I've prepared twelve songs for each one of my fellow Glee clubbers."
"You're singing one to yourself?"
Rachel grinned sheepishly.
-
Prompter #38
1. Brittany/Santana: Someone from Glee tells Britt Santa isn't real and Santana coaxes the entire club into making her believe.
3. Ensemble: Mr. Schue assigns the kids a secret Santa song exchange.
Things you DON'T want in your story: Smut. I just want some pure, fluffy, candy cane sweetness. I prefer canon pairings.